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Weyman, Stanley John, 1855-1928

"From the Memoirs of a Minister of France"

I confess that the loneliness of the house,
and the dreary waste that surrounded it (which seemed to exclude
the idea of trickery) were not without their effect on my
spirits; and that as I dismounted and approached the door, I felt
a kind of chill not remarkable under the circumstances.
But the courage of the gentleman differs from that of the vulgar
in that he fears yet goes; and I lifted the latch, and entered
boldly. The scene which met my eyes inside was sufficiently
commonplace to reassure me. At the farther end of a long bare
room, draughty, half-lighted, and having an earthen floor, yet
possessing that air of homeliness which a wood fire never fails
to impart, sat a single traveller; who had drawn his small table
under the open chimney, and there, with his feet almost in the
fire, was partaking of a poor meal of black bread and onions. He
was a tall, spare man, with sloping shoulders and a long sour
face, of which, as I entered, he gave me the full benefit.
I looked round the room, but look as I might I could see no one
else, nor anything that explained what we had witnessed and I
accosted the man civilly, wishing him good evening.


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