three men on the bummel(三个闲逛的人)-第44节
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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 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
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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 fault I find；〃 said
Harris。 〃Myself； I should have liked a few more greengages。〃
〃Here is a man coming up the hill；〃 I observed； 〃who looks like a
native。 Maybe； he will know where we can find some more greengages。〃
〃He walks well for an old chap；〃 remarked Harris。
He certainly was climbing the hill at a remarkable pace。 Also； so far
as we were able to judge at that distance； he appeared to be in a
remarkably cheerful mood； singing and shouting at the top of his voice；
gesticulating； and waving his arms。
〃What a merry old soul it is；〃 said Harris； 〃it does one good to watch
him。 But why does he carry his stick over his shoulder？ Why doesn't
he use it to help him up the hill？〃
〃Do you know； I don't think it is a stick；〃 said George。
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〃What can it be； then？〃 asked Harris。
〃Well； it looks to me；〃 said George； 〃more like a gun。〃
〃You don't think we can have made a mistake？〃 suggested Harris。
〃You don't think this can be anything in the nature of a private orchard？〃
I said： 〃Do you remember the sad thing that happened in the South
of France some two years ago？ A soldier picked some cherries as he
passed a house； and the French peasant to whom the cherries belonged
came out； and without a word of warning shot him dead。〃
〃But surely you are not allowed to shoot a man dead for picking fruit；
even in France？〃 said George。
〃Of course not；〃 I answered。 〃It was quite illegal。 The only excuse
offered by his counsel was that he was of a highly excitable disposition；
and especially keen about these particular cherries。〃
〃I recollect something about the case；〃 said Harris； 〃now you mention
it。 I believe the district in which it happenedthe 'Commune；' as I think
it is calledhad to pay heavy compensation to the relatives of the deceased
soldier； which was only fair。〃
George said： 〃I am tired of this place。 Besides； it's getting late。〃
Harris said： 〃If he goes at that rate he will fall and hurt himself。
Besides； I don't believe he knows the way。〃
I felt lonesome up there all by myself； with nobody to speak to。
Besides； not since I was a boy； I reflected； had I enjoyed a run down a
really steep hill。 I thought I would see if I could revive the sensation。 It
is a jerky exercise； but good； I should say； for the liver。
We slept that night at Barr； a pleasant little town on the way to St。
Ottilienberg； an interesting old convent among the mountains； where you
are waited upon by real nuns； and your bill made out by a priest。 At Barr；
just before supper a tourist entered。 He looked English； but spoke a
language the like of which I have never heard before。 Yet it was an
elegant and fine…sounding language。 The landlord stared at him blankly；
the landlady shook her head。 He sighed； and tried another； which
somehow recalled to me forgotten memories； though； at the time； I could
not fix it。 But again nobody understood him。
〃This is damnable；〃 he said aloud to himself。
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〃Ah； you are English！
