XVI
In the whole catalogue of those whiffling vexations which come puffing across a manвАЩs canvass, there is not one of a more teasing and tormenting nature, than this particular one which I am going to describeвБ†вЄЇвБ†and for which (unless you travel with an avance-courier, which numbers do in order to prevent it)вБ†вЄЇвБ†there is no help: and it is this.
That be you in never so kindly a propensity to sleepвБ†вЄЇвБ†though you are passing perhaps through the finest countryвБ†вАФupon the best roads, and in the easiest carriage for doing it in the worldвБ†вЄЇвБ†nay, was you sure you could sleep fifty miles straight forwards, without once opening your eyesвБ†вАФnay, what is more, was you as demonstratively satisfied as you can be of any truth in Euclid, that you should upon all accounts be full as well asleep as awakeвБ†вЄЇвБ†nay, perhaps betterвБ†вЄЇвБ†Yet the incessant returns of paying for the horses at every stage,вБ†вЄЇвБ†with the necessity thereupon of putting your hand into your pocket, and counting out from thence three livres fifteen sous (sous by sous), puts an end to so much of the project, that you cannot execute above six miles of it (or supposing it is a post and a half, that is but nine)вБ†вЄЇвБ†were it to save your soul from destruction.
вАФIвАЩll be even with вАЩem, quoth I, for IвАЩll put the precise sum into a piece of paper, and hold it ready in my hand all the way: вАЬNow I shall have nothing to do,вАЭ said I (composing myself to rest), вАЬbut to drop this gently into the postboyвАЩs hat, and not say a word.вАЭвБ†вЄЇвБ†Then there wants two sous more to drinkвБ†вЄЇвБ†or there is a twelve sous piece of Louis XIV which will not passвБ†вАФor a livre and some odd liards to be brought over from the last stage, which Monsieur had forgot; which altercations (as a man cannot dispute very well asleep) rouse him: still is sweet sleep retrievable; and still might the flesh weigh down the spirit, and recover itself of these blowsвБ†вАФbut then, by heaven! you have paid but for a single postвБ†вАФwhereas вАЩtis a post and a half; and this obliges you to pull out your book of post-roads, the print of which is so very small, it forces you to open your eyes, whether you will or no: Then Monsieur le Cur√© offers you a pinch of snuffвБ†вЄЇвБ†or a poor soldier shows you his legвБ†вЄЇвБ†or a shaveling his boxвБ†вЄЇвБ†or the priestess of the cistern will water your wheelsвБ†вЄЇвБ†they do not want itвБ†вЄЇвБ†but she swears by her priesthood (throwing it back) that they do:вБ†вЄЇвБ†then you have all these points to argue, or consider over in your mind; in doing of which, the rational powers get so thoroughly awakenedвБ†вЄЇвБ†you may get вАЩem to sleep again as you can.
It was entirely owing to one of these misfortunes, or I had passвАЩd clean by the stables of ChantillyвБ†вЄЇвБ†
вЄЇвБ†But the postilion first affirming, and then persisting in it to my face, that there was no mark upon the two sous piece, I openвАЩd my eyes to be convincedвБ†вАФand seeing the mark upon it as plain as my noseвБ†вАФI leapвАЩd out of the chaise in a passion, and so saw everything at Chantilly in spite.вБ†вЄЇвБ†I tried it but for three posts and a half, but believe вАЩtis the best principle in the world to travel speedily upon; for as few objects look very inviting in that moodвБ†вАФyou have little or nothing to stop you; by which means it was that I passed through St.¬†Dennis, without turning my head so much as on one side towards the AbbyвБ†вЄЇвБ†
вЄЇвБ†Richness of their treasury! stuff and nonsense!вБ†вЄЇвБ†bating their jewels, which are all false, I would not give three sous for any one thing in it, but JaidasвАЩs lanternвБ†вЄЇвБ†nor for that either, only as it grows dark, it might be of use.