The Fat and the Thin | Page 6

the horses, left to themselves, had continued
plodding along with lowered heads, at a regular though lazy pace,
which the ascent of the slope now slackened. The sleeping waggoners,
wrapped in woollen cloaks, striped black and grey, and grasping the
reins slackly in their closed hands, were stretched at full length on their
stomachs atop of the piles of vegetables. Every now and then, a gas
lamp, following some patch of gloom, would light up the hobnails of a
boot, the blue sleeve of a blouse, or the peak of a cap peering out of the
huge florescence of vegetables--red bouquets of carrots, white bouquets
of turnips, and the overflowing greenery of peas and cabbages.
And all along the road, and along the neighbouring roads, in front and
behind, the distant rumbling of vehicles told of the presence of similar
contingents of the great caravan which was travelling onward through
the gloom and deep slumber of that matutinal hour, lulling the dark city
to continued repose with its echoes of passing food.
Madame Francois's horse, Balthazar, an animal that was far too fat, led
the van. He was plodding on, half asleep and wagging his ears, when
suddenly, on reaching the Rue de Longchamp, he quivered with fear
and came to a dead stop. The horses behind, thus unexpectedly checked,
ran their heads against the backs of the carts in front of them, and the
procession halted amidst a clattering of bolts and chains and the oaths
of the awakened waggoners. Madame Francois, who sat in front of her

vehicle, with her back to a board which kept her vegetables in position,
looked down; but, in the dim light thrown to the left by a small square
lantern, which illuminated little beyond one of Balthazar's sheeny
flanks, she could distinguish nothing.
"Come, old woman, let's get on!" cried one of the men, who had raised
himself to a kneeling position amongst his turnips; "it's only some
drunken sot."
Madame Francois, however, had bent forward and on her right hand
had caught sight of a black mass, lying almost under the horse's hoofs,
and blocking the road.
"You wouldn't have us drive over a man, would you?" said she,
jumping to the ground.
It was indeed a man lying at full length upon the road, with his arms
stretched out and his face in the dust. He seemed to be remarkably tall,
but as withered as a dry branch, and the wonder was that Balthazar had
not broken him in half with a blow from his hoof. Madame Francois
thought that he was dead; but on stooping and taking hold of one of his
hands, she found that it was quite warm.
"Poor fellow!" she murmured softly.
The waggoners, however, were getting impatient.
"Hurry up, there!" said the man kneeling amongst the turnips, in a
hoarse voice. "He's drunk till he can hold no more, the hog! Shove him
into the gutter."
Meantime, the man on the road had opened his eyes. He looked at
Madame Francois with a startled air, but did not move. She herself now
thought that he must indeed be drunk.
"You mustn't stop here," she said to him, "or you'll get run over and
killed. Where were you going?"

"I don't know," replied the man in a faint voice.
Then, with an effort and an anxious expression, he added: "I was going
to Paris; I fell down, and don't remember any more."
Madame Francois could now see him more distinctly, and he was truly
a pitiable object, with his ragged black coat and trousers, through the
rents in which you could espy his scraggy limbs. Underneath a black
cloth cap, which was drawn low over his brows, as though he were
afraid of being recognised, could be seen two large brown eyes,
gleaming with peculiar softness in his otherwise stern and harassed
countenance. It seemed to Madame Francois that he was in far too
famished a condition to have got drunk.
"And what part of Paris were you going to?" she continued.
The man did not reply immediately. This questioning seemed to
distress him. He appeared to be thinking the matter over, but at last said
hesitatingly, "Over yonder, towards the markets."
He had now, with great difficulty, got to his feet again, and seemed
anxious to resume his journey. But Madame Francois noticed that he
tottered, and clung for support to one of the shafts of her waggon.
"Are you tired?" she asked him.
"Yes, very tired," he replied.
Then she suddenly assumed a grumpy tone, as though displeased, and,
giving him a push, exclaimed: "Look sharp, then, and climb into my
cart. You've made us lose a lot of time. I'm going to the markets, and
I'll turn you out there with my vegetables."
Then, as