From Bentley's Miscellany. THE ROAD-SIDE INN AT CHAMPLON. I. BY DUDLEY Ar a point in the forest of the Ardennes, where the high roads from Marche to Bastogne and from St. Hubert to La Roche intersect each other, there stood some years ago a solitary house, the owner of which was an elderly man, a widower, with an only daughter, whose occupation was that of an aubergiste. The place where he lived was called Champlon, and with the exception of one or two woodcutters' huts, which lay in the depths of the forest, not a single habitation existed for miles around. No signboard swung above the door to indicate to the approaching traveller the "good entertainment" that was to be had within, but all along the front of the building ran an inscription in tall, slender, black letters upon a white ground, which, answering the same purpose, said: "Ici on donne à boire et à manger; loge à pied et à cheval," with the intimation that the house was kept by "Jean Duroc." In default, however, of a sign, the auberge of Champlon was painted outside-as is very much the custom in many parts of Belgium -in the most glaring colors, red, yellow, and blue striving for the mastery. Yet this gaudy style of decoration was not attractive: on the contrary, it wore, in some measure, a forbidding aspect, the result in all likelihood of a too violent contrast with the scenery near. That scenery was both wild and beautiful. Its beauty arose chiefly from the magnificent foliage of oak and beech by which the house was, on three sides, surrounded; its wildness from the broad, far-stretching heath that opened out towards the south in the direction of Bastogne and the Luxembourg country. Loneliness was the great characteristic of the spot, and it would be difficult to say which solitude seemed the greater-the dark and apparently impenetrable forest, or the uncon COSTELLO. fined moor on which no shepherd tended his flock, and where no trace of human life was visible. That a site so removed from the business of the world should have been chosen for the exercise of an innkeeper's calling, may appear strange enough to those who only associate with it ideas of bustle and activity, of frequent arrivals and a constant succession of guests; but to such as consider that the true purpose of an inn is to minister to wants which cannot be supplied elsewhere, the choice of the locality will be looked upon as very far from excep tionable. So, at least, thought the accidental wayfarers who, journeying between the towns of the thinly-populated Ardennes, found the distances too great to be tra versed by them in a single day; and this, perhaps, might have had something to do with the reasons of Jean Duroc when he established himself at Champlon. Pure philanthropy, unassociated with the slightest tinge of personal interest, is, however, so very scarce a commodity, that it is expecting a little too much to meet with it in an aubergiste, and Jean Duroc might possibly have been influenced by other motives. Lonely as the place appeared it was not, after all, an absolute solitude: the diligence from Luxembourg to Liége and its correspondant the opposite way, passed once in every twenty-four hours, and now and then the carriages of travellers of some pretension would take that route and halt for an hour's refreshment; those, also, who journeyed on horseback, found it convenient at times to put up their beasts in the stables at Champlon and rest there themselves for the night. It was not, perhaps, easy to make a fortune out of scant opportunities like these, but the country innkeeper has generally another string to his bow, in the shape of the farm-land which he cultivates; and a moderate clearing at the edge of the forest seemed entirely to suffice for all the house- | banks of that famous river all the way from hold necessities of Jean Duroc, with the Liége to Sedan, and wishing to complete exception of the contents of his cellar, for his tour of that part of the country by a which he was able to pay in hard cash, visit to the Ardennes, had recrossed the money for that and other purposes being Belgian frontier at Bouillon, and proceedalways at his command. This might either ing by St. Hubert, purposed to make his be the remnant of what he brought into way through the forest to La Roche, and the country when he acquired the house then follow the course of that picturesque and land where he now lived, or the ac- stream the Ourthe, and so terminate his cumulation of his gains during several pedestrian journey at the place from years; but from whatever source derived, whence he set out. A pebble, however, he was never unprovided with means. stopped his progress. At a short distance There were few, indeed, to notice this fact, from Champlon, where a brawling torrent for Jean Duroc had no neighbors, but crossed his path, he trod awry upon some when he did occasionally make a purchase stepping-stones, twisted his ankle, and at Marche, where he was well enough pulled up lame. He tried to get on, but known, the dealers there noticed with the pain was so great he was forced to resatisfaction that the innkeeper of Champ- linquish the attempt, and sat down by the lon never asked for credit, but gave them road-side till it had in some degree abated. argent comptant for all he bought. On Meantime the shades of evening deepened, the same terms, no doubt, were obtained and it appeared very probable that he the bright silks and trinkets which adorned would have to pass the night in the forest. his daughter Antoinette, whose personal Henri de Gourville-so the young Frenchappearance, especially when she wore her man was named-was fond enough of adholiday costume, was the theme of admira- venture, but to "coucher à la belle étoile" tion of all who saw her. This praise was with a sprained ankle, did not exactly enfully justified, for her beauty was of a very ter into his ideas of pleasant peregrination. rare kind, and she knew well how to en- He shouted, therefore, as loud as he could, hance its effect, and many a traveller, as in the hope, though it was but faint, that he parted from the inn, carried with him some cottager might hear him, and come a remembrance of Jean Duroc's daughter, to his assistance. He was more successful which did not very rapidly subside. But than he had much right to expect, for at Antoinette had other than mere casual the third cry he gave, an answering voice admirers. Michel Latrobe and Pierre replied, and presently, through the gloom, Fargeau, the conducteurs of the two dili- he saw a man approaching. It was a gences alluded to, were lovers, who hesi- wood-cutter, who, accompanied by his tated not to declare themselves, though dog, was returning homeward along the neither could truly boast that he had gained road by which Henri de Gourville intendany advantage over his rival, for her smiles ed to have proceeded. To his inquiry as were equally bestowed on each. To greet to whether any gîte was near where he with soft words and smiling glances all could obtain a bed, he was agreeably surshe met, appeared, indeed, to be the mis- prised to learn that only half a mile-"un sion of Antoinette Duroc, and a philoso- petit quart de lieue"-separated him from phical observer might have regretted that the best auberge in the forest. The man the sphere of her influence was, of neces- had good reason for calling it the best, sity, so contracted; but, perhaps, it was since it was the only one, but at that mowide enough. The aubergiste himself was ment Henri de Gourville was not overnice also a man of popular manners, so that the about the shelter it afforded, his principal chance visitant to his house invariably re-object being to secure a roof for his head joiced in the good fortune that had conducted him to such an oasis in the desert. The autumn of 18- was waning away, when a young Frenchman, whom the reputation of the beautiful scenery of the Meuse had lured from Paris, found himself late one evening on one of the roads that led to Champlon. Travelling on foot, with his knapsack at his back and his sketchbook in his hand, he had ascended by the VOL. XXXVII.-NO. I. and rest for his damaged limb. Half a mile, however, is infinite space for one who is unable to walk a yard, and if the woodcutter, whom he promised a five-franc piece for his pains, had not consented to carry him on his back to Champlon, daylight might have dawned before he reached that hospitable threshold. As it was, he arrived there in about twenty minutes, not, it must be admitted, in the most tri 9 umphant style, for pick-a-back consorts ill with dignity, but in safety, which was the more material thing. "Here is a gentleman, Monsieur Duroc," said the wood-cutter, entering the kitchen of the auberge with the live burden which had replaced his own load of fagots "here is a gentleman who has hurt himself on the road from St. Hubert, and wants a bed, and most likely a supper, for at this time of night, you see, one is mostly hungry." "He can have both and welcome," said the master of the house, coming forward from the wood-fire which was blazing briskly on the hearth. "Gently, François! Here, sir, lower yourself into this chair for the moment; you shall be moved into the salon immediately. Antoinette!" "I am here, father," replied a voice so sweet, that, forgetting the pain which he felt, Henri de Gourville hastily looked towards the door by which the speaker entered. The bright light of the beechen fire fell full upon the slender figure of a tall girl, revealing, if not her features in their full expression, enough to show that beauty was certainly her portion. "I am here, father," she repeated, "what do you desire ?" "My child," said the aubergiste, "François, the wood-cutter of La Fosse, has brought in a gentleman who has met with an accident. Let the best bed up-stairs be got ready, while I see to his hurt, and what else he may require." 66 "My good friend," said Henri de Gourville, now that I am in this chair, I don't feel in any hurry to leave it; we will talk about bed by-and-by. It is no great accident, only a sprained ankle, which prevented me from walking any further. If mademoiselle will be good enough to give me a little vinegar and warm water to bathe it, I dare say I shall manage very well." "Oh, willingly, sir," returned Antoinette, in the same soft accents as before. "I am sure whatever my father and I can do we will-with the very greatest plea must not remain in such a place as this, and you know he cannot walk. Our ménage, sir," he continued, addressing Henri, "is a very small one-my daughter and myself, that is all-except a stable-man who also works on the few acres that I call my own. But, thanks to the bon Dieu, we need no more, for you understand, monsieur, that the life we lead here is very simple." "It seems very comfortable, however," replied Henri, whose eyes instinctively followed the movements of Antoinette"very comfortable-charming I should say-that is, I mean, extremely pleasant, to have only-not to be troubled with stupid servants, who are always in the way, and never do what one wishes." There was a little confusion in these remarks, but Monseur Duroc answered as if he felt their full value. "Exactly, sir," he said. "That is quite my opinion. For in my etat of an aubergiste I could not feel at ease if I did not see myself that my guests were properly attended. Be careful, François, not to jerk the chair suddenly-there-steady, across the passage, keep the light near us, Antoinette!" With these directions the removal of Monsieur de Gourville into the salon was effected without trouble. The wood-cutter was then dismissed, and Henri was left alone with his attentive host and his beautiful daughter. Their first care was to relieve the pain of his swollen foot, Antoinette's own hands fomenting the suffering part, while Jean Duroc, who stood by with the necessary appliances, repeatedly thanked le bon Dieu that nothing worse had happened. "If monsieur had unfortunately broken his leg he should have been in despair, for there was not a surgeon within five leagues. To-morrow, he made no doubt, monsieur would be able to resume his journey, and then all would be well. But monsieur, as François had said, must be hungry as well as tired. It was fortunately the best season of the year for the table: he had a hare and several grives in the larder, besides some of the excellent mutton for which the Ardennes was famous,-so that monsieur would find plenty to eat; and then, for wine, he had a quality that could not be surpassed in Paris itself." "That may very well be," said Henri, laughing, "for I, who have lived in Paris a good deal, know perfectly that the most execrable stuff is drunk there under the very falsest pretences." "Ah, those great cities!" exclaimed Monsieur Duroc, lifting up his eyes. "But temptations abound in them which cannot exist in the country. We are simple and honest here, and that is all we can say for ourselves. Come, Antoinette, monsieur's supper, and then, let us hope, a good night's repose." "I have certainly fallen on my legs here, though one of them is not very sound at present," soliloquised Henri, when Jean Duroc and his daughter had left the room. "Here is an aubergiste, than whom it is impossible to find anybody more pious, with an excellent bill of fare, and a daughter like an angel! What magnificent eyes she has! Monsieur Duroc, too, must have been a handsome man in his day; but I don't like his mouth; it is too small and well-formed; hers is like it--indeed, she resembles her father-but a pretty mouth is by no means an objection in a woman. What is her age now? I should say about two or three-and-twenty. I wonder she is not married! But that is the misfortune of living in such an out-ofthe-way place as this: there is nobody good enough for her. And yet, to judge by her dress, one would think she expected the arrival of a lover at every moment. I had no notion there was so much beauty in this part of Belgium; she deserves to have been born at Bruges !" expression in those large dark eyes of hers; yes, I must be very careful, or I shall be doing some mischief here." This was a somewhat hasty conclusion to arrive at, but whether the handsome young Parisian were right or wrong, it is quite clear that " some mischief" had been done already, or he would scarcely have felt so thankful for the accident that promised to make a prisoner of him for the next few days-a sprained ankle being, as he speedily discovered, a positive obstacle to immediate pedestrianism. He expressed this opinion to Monsieur Duroc when the latter made his appearance to ask him what wine he would be pleased to order with his supper, and not content with naming one sufficing reason, offered another. He was, he said, just at the end of the money which he had provided for his excursion, and to obtain more it was necessary that he should send to Liége, where a sum sufficient for the next three months' expenses, as he intended to pass some time in Brussels,-had been lodged in a banker's hands. If Monsieur Duroc, therefore, had no objection, he proposed to stay at the auberge until he could procure as much as he might require from Liégeotherwise, though he should travel with reluctance and some inconvenience, he must endeavor to find a conveyance, and remain for a short time, he feared, a debtor for the accommodation he had received at Champlon. Henri de Gourville pursued this train of thought till it was interrupted by the pre- To this statement, which was not literparations for his promised supper. These ally true, Henri de Gourville having still were made by Antoinette, whose empresse- a few louis in his possession, Monsieur ment to make the traveller comfortable Duroc replied, with great civility, that as was at least as great as that of her father, to any trifling expense which monsieur and it is not to be supposed that her ef might incur during the time he rested at forts were less successful. The girl's the auberge, that was a matter of not the manners, indeed, were as prepossessing as slightest consequence; and with respect her person, and Henri de Gourville very to the means of travelling, there was the soon arrived at the conclusion that he had diligence every day to Liége, though, to never seen so charming a creature. It be sure, it was generally full, and the only might be vanity, or it might be something way to secure a place in it was by sending less presumptuous, but it appeared to him word to Arlon. But, on the other hand, that he had made an impression on the he begged monsieur to consider that it aubergiste's daughter, "for"-he argued might be the cause of permanent injury to to himself during her momentary absence him if he used his foot too soon; that as -"she could hardly, I think, be so ex-long as monsieur chose to honor Chamtremely attentive to every chance passenger: it is not kindness only, but really almost tenderness, this often-repeated inquiry as to the pain I suffer; and then the way in which she asks the question, the sweetness of her voice, and the singular plon with his presence it would be a great satisfaction both to himself and daughter; that, thanks to the bon Dieu, he (Duroc) was not, after all, a poor man, and stood in no need of daily payment; and, finally, that if monsieur preferred, for his own reasons, to write to Liége for money, either of the diligence conducteurs-who were both perfectly honest-could be trusted to bring back any amount he might think proper to send for. In any case, he (Duroc) should be delighted to place himself entirely at monsieur's disposal. As nothing could be more satisfactory than this reply, Henri de Gourville at once announced his intention of profiting by the opportunity of sending to Liége, instead of setting out for that place himself; the arrangements could be made next day. And now he would thank his host to bring him a bottle of that fine wine he had spoken of; he left the choice of it entirely to Monsieur Duroc. Antoinette had entered the room while Henri was speaking, and at these last words her eyes were bent inquiringly on her father, who, answering her look, observed: "No, my child, you have enough to do this evening with your cuisine, you will find it famous, monsieur, I promise you, -I will go to the cellar myself. I know the kind I am sure that will please our guest." If Antoinette had not turned away her head as her father spoke, Henri de Gourville might have read something in her countenance which would assuredly have given him cause for fresh conjecture, but whether it would have disturbed or confirmed the ideas he had already indulged in, is a question that I shall not at present discuss. Let us finish the events of the evening: the supper and wine were both as good as Monsieur Duroc had boasted; the traveller's bed was far better than could have been expected in the heart of the Ardennes; and the traveller himself slept as well as if he had been at the Hôtel de l'Europe at Liége, which is one of the best I ever put up at. It may be questioned, however, whether his sleep would have been quite so sound had he overheard the brief conversation which took place between Jean Duroc and his daughter in the room beneath him, after he had been assisted to his Jean Duroc did not this time return an immediate answer. "I am thinking," at last he muttered. After another pause he continued: "It is Michel Latrobe who comes up from Luxembourg to-morrow, is it not? Yes, I remember, I saw him on his way down this afternoon. Which do you like best, Antoinette-Michel or Pierre ?" "I care for neither," she answered; "but if I had to choose between them, Michel is much the better tempered, and the best-looking of the two." "Ah, but Pierre Fargeau is the cleverer fellow. He is the man to do what I want just now; so I must wait another day." "Wait? For what ?" "No matter- -at present." "But"-she spoke with unaccustomed hesitation-" will he"-she pointed upwards-"will he-come down-to-morrow morning ?" Jean Duroc regarded his daughter with a look of strange meaning. "To-morrow? Ah-and next day too, perhaps." Antoinette returned her father's glance with one of deep scrutiny. She said nothing more, however, but, taking a light, went up-stairs. At Henri de Gourville's door she paused; her hand was on the latch for a moment, she then withdrew it, and noiselessly crossed the corridor to her own room. When morning dawned she was still sitting by her bedside, with her own door just ajar. At that hour she came forth, once more stopped to listen at the head of the staircase, and then with a sigh which seemed to relieve her bosom of a heavy weight, descended to her daily avocations. II. ALTHOUGH it would have been by no means advisable, and indeed, scarcely possible for Henri de Gourville to have continued his journey on foot, he found his sprained ankle so much better next morning, that it was necessary for him to feign rather more lameness than he felt, in order to justify his proposed stay at the auberge. This was not exactly in accordance with the "careful" plan on which he had determined the night before, but consistency in a young gentleman of five-and-twenty, "Perhaps not," he replied. who happened, moreover, to have fallen in "Your purpose, then, at last is love, is rather too much to expect of changed?" she said. chamber. "Was that the same wine, father?" she asked; "it did not produce the usual effect." French human nature. |