three men on the bummel-第31部分

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explanation　of　the　thing　to　be　possible。　　I　recollect　a　Fraulein
entering　the　room　from　the　kitchen　with　a　pan　in　her　hand。　　I　saw
her　cross　to　the　outer　door。　　The　next　moment　the　whole　room　was　in
an　uproar。　　One　was　reminded　of　those　pantomime　transformation
scenes　where；　from　among　floating　clouds；　slow　music；　waving
flowers；　and　reclining　fairies；　one　is　suddenly　transported　into
the　midst　of　shouting　policemen　tumbling　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　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。

〃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　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　grow　wild；　and　are　to　be　had　for　the
picking。　　It　is　difficult　to　keep　to　any　programme　when　walking
through　the　Vosges；　the　temptation　on　a　hot　day　to　stop　and　eat
fruit　generally　being　too　strong　for　resistance。　　Raspberries；　the
most　delicious　I　have　ever　tasted；　wild　strawberries；　currants；　and
gooseberries；　grow　upon　the　hill…sides　as　black…berries　by　English
lanes。　　The　Vosges　small　boy　is　not　called　upon　to　rob　an　orchard；
he　can　make　himself　ill　without　sin。　　Orchards　exist　in　the　Vosges
mountains　in　plenty；　but　to　trespass　into　one　for　the　purpose　of
stealing　fruit　would　be　as　foolish　as　for　a　fish　to　try　and　get
into　a　swimming　bath　without　paying。　　Still；　of　course；　mistakes　do
occur。

One　afternoon　in　the　course　of　a　climb　we　emerged　upon　a　plateau；
where　we　lingered　perhaps　too　long；　eating　more　fruit　than　may　have
been　good　for　us；　it　was　so　plentiful　around　us；　so　varied。　　We
commenced　with　a　few　late　strawberries；　and　from　those　we　passed　to
raspberries。　　Then　Harris　found　a　greengage…tree　with　some　early
fruit　upon　it；　just　perfect。

〃This　is　about　the　best　thing　we　have　struck；〃　said　George；　〃we　had
better　make　the　most　of　this。〃　　Which　was　good　advice；　on　the　face
of　it。

〃It　is　a　pity；〃　said　Harris；　〃that　the　pears　are　still　so　hard。〃

He　grieved　about　this　for　a　while；　but　later　on　came　across　some
remarkably　fine　yellow　plums　and　these　consoled　him　somewhat。

〃I　suppose　we　are　still　a　bit　too　far　north　for　pineapples；〃　said
George。　　〃I　feel　I　could　just　enjoy　a　fresh　pineapple。　　This
commonplace　fruit　palls　upon　one　after　a　while。〃

〃Too　much　bush　fruit　and　not　enough　tree；　is　the