As Bellombre had said the night
before, affairs were brightening with the troupe; good fortune had
come at last, and the hard times they had met and struggled against
so bravely and uncomplainingly were among the things of the past. The
receipts of the previous evening--for there had been some money taken
in, as well as plentiful stores of edibles--added to Bellombre's
pistoles, made a good round sum, and the chariot of Thespis, so
deplorably bare of late, was now amply provisioned. Not to do things by
halves, their generous host lent to the comedians two stout farm horses,
with a man to drive them into Poitiers, and bring them back home again.
They had on their gala-day harness, and from their gaudily-painted,
high-peaked collars hung strings of tiny bells, that jingled cheerily
at every firm, regular step of the great, gentle creatures. So our
travellers set out in high feather, and their entry into Poitiers,
though not so magnificent as Alexander's into Babylon, was still in
very fine style indeed. As they threaded their way through the narrow,
tortuous streets of that ancient town, the noise of their horses' iron
shoes ringing out against the rough stone pavement, and the clatter of
their wheels drew many inmates of the houses they passed to the windows,
and a little crowd collected around them as they stood waiting for
admission before the great entrance door of the Armes de France; the
driver, meanwhile, cracking his whip till it sounded like a volley of
musketry, to which the horses responded by shaking their heads, and
making all the little bells about them jingle sharply and merrily.
Pages:
213
214
215
216
217
218
219
220
221
222
223
224
225
226
227
228
229
230
231
232
233
234
235
236
237