Lavengro by George Borrow (read me a book txt) 📕

for your fall, you must bear it as lightly as you can. I will tie the horses amongst those trees, and then we will all betake us to the hollow below.” “And what’s to become of my chaise?” said the postillion, looking ruefully on the fallen vehicle. “Let us leave the chaise for the present,” said I; “we can be of no use to it.” “I don’t like to leave my chaise lying on the ground in this weather,” said the man; “I love my chaise, and him whom it belongs to.” “You are quite right to be fond of yourself,” said I, “on which account I advise you to seek shelter from the rain as soon as possible.” “I was not talking of myself,” said the man, “but my master, to whom the chaise belongs.” “I thought you called the chaise yours,” said I. “That’s my way of speaking,” said the man; “but the chaise is my master’s, and a better master does not live. Don’t you think we could manage to raise up the chaise?” “And what is to become of the horses?” said I. “I love my horses well enough,” said the man; “but they will take less harm than the chaise. We two can never lift up that chaise.” “But we three can,” said Belle; “at least, I think so; and I know where to find two poles which will assist us.” “You had better go to the tent,” said I, “you will be wet through.” “I care not for a little wetting,” said Belle; “moreover, I have more gowns than one⁠—see you after the horses.” Thereupon, I led the horses past the mouth of the dingle, to a place where a gap in the hedge afforded admission to the copse or plantation, on the southern side. Forcing them through the gap, I led them to a spot amidst the trees, which I deemed would afford them the most convenient place for standing; then, darting down into the dingle, I brought up a rope, and also the halter of my own nag, and with these fastened them each to a separate tree in the best manner I could. This done, I returned to the chaise and the postillion. In a minute or two Belle arrived with two poles, which, it seems, had long been lying, overgrown with brushwood, in a ditch or hollow behind the plantation. With these both she and I set to work in endeavouring to raise the fallen chaise from the ground.

We experienced considerable difficulty in this undertaking; at length, with the assistance of the postillion, we saw our efforts crowned with success⁠—the chaise was lifted up, and stood upright on three wheels.

“We may leave it here in safety,” said I, “for it will hardly move away on three wheels, even supposing it could run by itself; I am afraid there is work here for a wheelwright, in which case I cannot assist you; if you were in need of a blacksmith it would be otherwise.” “I don’t think either the wheel or the axle is hurt,” said the postillion, who had been handling both; “it is only the linchpin having dropped out that caused the wheel to fly off; if I could but find the linchpin! though, perhaps, it fell out a mile away.” “Very likely,” said I; “but never mind the linchpin, I can make you one, or something that will serve: but I can’t stay here any longer, I am going to my place below with this young gentlewoman, and you had better follow us.” “I am ready,” said the man; and after lifting up the wheel and propping it against the chaise, he went with us, slightly limping, and with his hand pressed to his thigh.

As we were descending the narrow path, Belle leading the way, and myself the last of the party, the postillion suddenly stopped short, and looked about him. “Why do you stop?” said I. “I don’t wish to offend you,” said the man; “but this seems to be a strange place you are leading me into; I hope you and the young gentlewoman, as you call her, don’t mean me any harm⁠—you seemed in a great hurry to bring me here.” “We wished to get you out of the rain,” said I, “and ourselves too; that is, if we can, which I rather doubt, for the canvas of a tent is slight shelter in such a rain; but what harm should we wish to do you?” “You may think I have money,” said the man, “and I have some, but only thirty shillings, and for a sum like that it would be hardly worth while to⁠—” “Would it not?” said I; “thirty shillings, after all, are thirty shillings, and for what I know, half a dozen throats may have been cut in this place for that sum at the rate of five shillings each; moreover, there are the horses, which would serve to establish this young gentlewoman and myself in housekeeping, provided we were thinking of such a thing.” “Then I suppose I have fallen into pretty hands,” said the man, putting himself in a posture of defence; “but I’ll show no craven heart; and if you attempt to lay hands on me, I’ll try to pay you in your own coin. I’m rather lamed in the leg, but I can still use my fists; so come on both of you, man and woman, if woman this be, though she looks more like a grenadier.”

“Let me hear no more of this nonsense,” said Belle; “if you are afraid, you can go back to your chaise⁠—we only seek to do you a kindness.”

“Why, he was just now talking of cutting throats,” said the man. “You brought it on yourself,” said Belle; “you suspected us, and he wished to pass a joke upon you; he would not hurt a hair of your head, were your coach laden with gold, nor would I.” “Well,” said the man, “I