three men on the bummel(三个闲逛的人)-第39部分
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yelling babies； swells fighting pantaloons； sausages and harlequins；
buttered slides and clowns。 As the Fraulein of the pan touched the door it
flew open； as though all the spirits of sin had been pressed against it；
waiting。 Two pigs and a chicken rushed into the room； a cat that had
been sleeping on a beer…barrel spluttered into fiery life。 The Fraulein
threw her pan into the air and lay down on the floor。 The gentleman with
the brick sprang to his feet； upsetting the table before him with everything
upon it。
One looked to see the cause of this disaster： one discovered it at once
in the person of a mongrel terrier with pointed ears and a squirrel's tail。
The landlord rushed out from another door； and attempted to kick him out
of the room。 Instead； he kicked one of the pigs； the fatter of the two。 It
was a vigorous； well…planted kick； and the pig got the whole of it； none of
it was wasted。 One felt sorry for the poor animal； but no amount of
sorrow anyone else might feel for him could compare with the sorrow he
felt for himself。 He stopped running about； he sat down in the middle of
the room； and appealed to the solar system generally to observe this unjust
thing that had come upon him。 They must have heard his complaint in
the valleys round about； and have wondered what upheaval of nature was
taking place among the hills。
As for the hen it scuttled； screaming； every way at once。 It was a
marvellous bird： it seemed to be able to run up a straight wall quite
easily； and it and the cat between them fetched down mostly everything
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that was not already on the floor。 In less than forty seconds there were
nine people in that room； all trying to kick one dog。 Possibly； now and
again； one or another may have succeeded； for occasionally the dog would
stop barking in order to howl。 But it did not discourage him。
Everything has to be paid for； he evidently argued； even a pig and chicken
hunt； and； on the whole； the game was worth it。
Besides； he had the satisfaction of observing that； for every kick he
received； most other living things in the room got two。 As for the
unfortunate pigthe stationary one； the one that still sat lamenting in the
centre of the roomhe must have averaged a steady four。 Trying to kick
this dog was like playing football with a ball that was never therenot
when you went to kick it； but after you had started to kick it； and had gone
too far to stop yourself； so that the kick had to go on in any case； your only
hope being that your foot would find something or another solid to stop it；
and so save you from sitting down on the floor noisily and completely。
When anybody did kick the dog it was by pure accident； when they were
not expecting to kick him； and； generally speaking； this took them so
unawares that； after kicking him； they fell over him。 And everybody；
every half…minute； would be certain to fall over the pig the sitting pig； the
one incapable of getting out of anybody's way。
How long the scrimmage might have lasted it is impossible to say。 It
was ended by the judgment of George。 For a while he had been seeking
to catch； not the dog but the remaining pig； the one still capable of activity。
Cornering it at last； he persuaded it to cease running round and round the
room； and instead to take a spin outside。 It shot through the door with
one long wail。
We always desire the thing we have not。 One pig； a chicken； nine
people； and a cat； were as nothing in that dog's opinion compared with the
quarry that was disappearing。 Unwisely； he darted after it； and George
closed the door upon him and shot the bolt。
Then the landlord stood up； and surveyed all the things that were lying
on the floor。
〃That's a playful dog of yours；〃 said he to the man who had come in
with the brick。
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〃He is not my dog；〃 replied the man sullenly。
〃Whose dog is it then？〃 said the landlord。
〃I don't know whose dog it is；〃 answered the man。
〃That won't do for me； you know；〃 said the landlord； picking up a
picture of the German Emperor； and wiping beer from it with his sleeve。
〃I know it won't；〃 replied the man； 〃I never expected it would。 I'm
tired of telling people it isn't my dog。 They none of them believe me。〃
〃What do you want to go about with him for； if he's not your dog？〃
said the landlord。 〃What's the attraction about him？〃
〃I don't go about with him；〃 replied the man； 〃he goes about with me。
He picked me up this morning at ten o'clock； and he won't leave me。 I
thought I had got rid of him when I came in here。 I left him busy killing
a duck more than a quarter of an hour away。 I'll have to pay for that； I
expect； on my way back。〃
〃Have you tried throwing stones at him？〃 asked Harris。
〃Have I tried throwing stones at him！〃 replied the man；
contemptuously。 〃I've been throwing stones at him till my arm aches
with throwing stones； and he thinks it's a game； and brings them back to
me。 I've been carrying this beastly brick about with me for over an hour；
in the hope of being able to drown him； but he never comes near enough
for me to get hold of him。 He just sits six inches out of reach with his
mouth open； and looks at me。〃
〃It's the funniest story I've heard for a long while；〃 said the landlord。
〃Glad it amuses somebody；〃 said the man。
We left him helping the landlord to pick up the broken things； and
went our way。 A dozen yards outside the door the faithful animal was
waiting for his friend。 He looked tired； but contented。 He was
evidently a dog of strange and sudden fancies； and we feared for the
moment lest he might take a liking to us。 But he let us pass with
indifference。 His loyalty to this unresponsive man was touching； and we
made no attempt to undermine it。
Having completed to our satisfaction the Black Forest； we journeyed
on our wheels through Alt Breisach and Colmar to Munster； whence we
started a short exploration of the Vosges range； where； according to the
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present German Emperor； humanity stops。 Of old； Alt Breisach； a rocky
fortress with the river now on one side of it and now on the otherfor in
its inexperienced youth the Rhine never seems to have been quite sure of
its way；must； as a place of residence； have appealed exclusively to the
lover of change and excitement。 Whoever the war was between； and
whatever it was about； Alt Breisach was bound to be in it。 Everybody
besieged it； most people captured it； the majority of them lost it again；
nobody seemed able to keep it。 Whom he belonged to； and what he was；
the dweller in Alt Breisach could never have been quite sure。 One day he
would be a Frenchman； and then before he could learn enough French to
pay his taxes he would be an Austrian。 While trying to discover what
you did in order to be a good Austrian； he would find he was no longer an
Austrian； but a German； though what particular German out of the dozen
must always have been doubtful to him。 One day he would discover that
he was a Catholic； the next an ardent Protestant。 The only thing that
could have given any stability to his existence must have been the
monotonous necessity of paying heavily for the privilege of being
whatever for the moment he was。 But when one begins to think of these
things one finds oneself wondering why anybody in the Middle Ages；
except kings and tax collectors； ever took the trouble to live at all。
For variety and beauty； the Vosges will not compare with the hills of
the Schwarzwald。 The advantage about them from the tourist's point of
view is their superior poverty。 The Vosges peasant has not the
unromantic air of contented prosperity that spoils his vis… a…vis across the
Rhine。 The villages and farms possess more the charm of decay。
Another point wherein the Vosges district excels is its ruins。 Many of its
numerous castles are perched where you might think only eagles would
care to build。 In others； commenced by the Romans and finished by the
Troubadours； covering acres with the maze of their still standing walls；
one may wander for hours。
The fruiterer and greengrocer is a person unknown in the Vosges。 Most
things of that kind gr
