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Stevenson, Robert Louis, 1850-1894

"St. Ives, Being the Adventures of a French Prisoner in England"

The tired animals, who could scarce put the one foot
before the other, paid no attention to his cruelty; and I continued
without effort to maintain my position alongside, smiling to myself
at the futility of his attempts, and at the same time pricked with
curiosity as to why he made them. I made no such formidable a
figure as that a man should flee when I accosted him; and my
conscience not being entirely clear, I was more accustomed to be
uneasy myself than to see others timid. Presently he desisted, and
put back his whip in the holster with the air of a man vanquished.
'So you would run away from me?' said I. 'Come, come, that's not
English.'
'Beg pardon, master: no offence meant,' he said, touching his hat.
'And none taken!' cried I. 'All I desire is a little gaiety by the
way.'
I understood him to say he didn't 'take with gaiety.'
'Then I will try you with something else,' said I. 'Oh, I can be
all things to all men, like the apostle! I dare to say I have
travelled with heavier fellows than you in my time, and done
famously well with them. Are you going home?'
'Yes, I'm a goin' home, I am,' he said.
'A very fortunate circumstance for me!' said I. 'At this rate we
shall see a good deal of each other, going the same way; and, now I
come to think of it, why should you not give me a cast? There is
room beside you on the bench.


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