The Miserable World

Chapter 27 Part One (26)
I have travelled twelve leagues.
Can you？——if I pay？'
'I would not refuse，'said the peasant，'to lodge any respectable man who would pay me.
But why do you not go to the inn？'
'There is no room.'
'Bah!

Impossible
This is neither a fair nor a market day.Have you been to Labarre？'
'Yes.'
'Well? '
The traveller replied with embarrassment：

'I do not know.He did not receive me.'
'Have you been to What's-his-name's，in the Rue Chaffaut？'
The stranger's embarrassment increased；he stammered，'He did not receive me either.'
The peasant's countenance assumed an expression of distrust；he surveyed the newcomer from head to feet，and suddenly exclaimed，with a sort of shudder：——

'Are you the man？——'
He cast a fresh glance upon the stranger，took three steps backwards，placed the lamp on the table，and took his gun down from the wall.
Meanwhile，at the words，Are you the man？the woman had risen，had clasped her two children in her arms，and had taken refuge precipitately behind her husband，staring in terror at the stranger，with her bosom uncovered，and with frightened eyes，as she murmured in a low tone，'Tso-maraude.'[1]
[1]Patois of the French Alps：

chat de maraude，rascally marauder.
All this took place in less time than it requires to picture it to one's self.
After having scrutinized the man for several moments，as one scrutinizes a viper，the master of the house returned to the door and said：——

'Clear out！'
'For pity's sake，a glass of water，'said the man.
'A shot from my gun！'said the peasant.
Then he closed the door violently，and the man heard him shoot two large bolts.
A moment later，the window-shutter was closed，and the sound of a bar of iron which was placed against it was audible outside.
Night continued to fall.
A cold wind from the Alps was blowing.By the light of the expiring day the stranger perceived，in one of the gardens which bordered the street，a sort of hut，which seemed to him to be built of sods.
He climbed over the wooden fence resolutely，and found himself in the garden.
He approached the hut；its door consisted of a very low and narrow aperture，and it resembled those buildings which road-laborers construct for themselves along the roads.
He thought without doubt，that it was，in fact，the dwelling of a road-laborer；he was suffering from cold and hunger，but this was，at least，a shelter from the cold.This sort of dwelling is not usually occupied at night.
He threw himself flat on his face，and crawled into the hut.
It was warm there，and he found a tolerably good bed of straw.
He lay，for a moment，stretched out on this bed，without the power to make a movement，so fatigued was he.
Then，as the knapsack on his back was in his way，and as it furnished，moreover，a pillow ready to his hand，he set about unbuckling one of the straps.
At that moment，a ferocious growl became audible.
He raised his eyes.
The head of an enormous dog was outlined in the darkness at the entrance of the hut.
It was a dog's kennel.
He was himself vigorous and formidable；he armed himself with his staff，made a shield of his knapsack，and made his way out of the kennel in the best way he could，not without enlarging the rents in his rags.
He left the garden in the same manner，but backwards，being obliged，in order to keep the dog respectful，to have recourse to that manoeuvre with his stick which masters in that sort of fencing designate as la rose couverte.
When he had，not without difficulty，repassed the fence，and found himself once more in the street，alone，without refuge，without shelter，without a roof over his head，chased even from that bed of straw and from that miserable kennel，he dropped rather than seated himself on a stone，and it appears that a passer-by heard him exclaim，'I am not even a dog！'
He soon rose again and resumed his march.
He went out of the town，hoping to find some tree or haystack in the fields which would afford him shelter.
He walked thus for some time，with his head still drooping.When he felt himself far from every human habitation，he raised his eyes and gazed searchingly about him.
He was in a field.Before him was one of those low hills covered with close-cut stubble，which，after the harvest，resemble shaved heads.
The horizon was perfectly black.
This was not alone the obscurity of night；it was caused by very low-hanging clouds which seemed to rest upon the hill itself，and which were mounting and filling the whole sky.
Meanwhile，as the moon was about to rise，and as there was still floating in the zenith a remnant of the brightness of twilight，these clouds formed at the summit of the sky a sort of whitish arch，whence a gleam of light fell upon the earth.
The earth was thus better lighted than the sky，which produces a particularly sinister effect，and the hill，whose contour was poor and mean，was outlined vague and wan against the gloomy horizon.The whole effect was hideous，petty，lugubrious，and narrow.
There was nothing in the field or on the hill except a deformed tree，which writhed and shivered a few paces distant from the wayfarer.
This man was evidently very far from having those delicate habits of intelligence and spirit which render one sensible to the mysterious aspects of things；nevertheless，there was something in that sky，in that hill，in that plain，in that tree，which was so profoundly desolate，that after a moment of immobility and revery he turned back abruptly.
There are instants when nature seems hostile.
He retraced his steps；the gates of D——were closed.
D——，which had sustained sieges during the wars of religion，was still surrounded in 1815 by ancient walls flanked by square towers which have been demolished since.
He passed through a breach and entered the town again.
It might have been eight o'clock in the evening.
As he was not acquainted with the streets，he recommenced his walk at random.
In this way he came to the prefecture，then to the seminary.As he passed through the Cathedral Square，he shook his fist at the church.
(End of this chapter)