My heart sank when I saw Montrevel, where the landlady of Pont d’Ain had said we should be “pas mal,” and the poor woman, with fear in her face, told me she had never lodged travellers before. However, when I had groped after her up the dark ladder-staircase, and passed the room in which slept the whole family, three dogs included, we found one better than I expected, as it was large as a barn, and clean, though damp, as never used save for festivals, wedding, or christening. We made a good fire on the one lonely dog, and got supper, whose best dish was one of roasted chestnuts, and dry sheets over hard, moist mattresses, the beds being there for ornament. To the stable, while D—— stood there to see the horses fed, came a peasant in blue frock and striped night-cap, who watched, in respect and some awe, Fanny’s demeanour, never of the quietest when she is curried, and at last said, “Those animals have far more sense than we have.” D—— thought from his face that might easily be, and said, “Very true;” but with another look of admiration he returned to the charge, and said, “Vous venez de travailler à Bourg,” which D——, not quite comprehending, explanations followed; and it came out that he thought we belonged to Franconi’s troop (as did I suppose the fat man at the café) and were all four performers.
Left Montrevel for Tournus, the greater part of the way a desolate flat, beneath the cold fog, broken by a few hills, long as uninteresting. The peasants of La Bresse are a quiet though uncouth set of people; their miserable habitations cleaner than those of the more northern provinces of France. Met no one save a group of gipsies, on whom we came as I walked to warm myself down one of these quasi mountains, Fanny following like a spaniel. They were gathered beneath an ancient oak, the older people cooking, a handsome youth touching a guitar, and a girl, with the dark fine features of her race, gazing at him as did the large dog, whose head rested on her knee. Outside the bridge of Tournus, found at a café the stout old gentleman, Madame Lalouet’s pensionnaire, who, on our former visit, provided us with a château and private theatre. We shook hands, and he told us we should be welcome at the inn, as indeed we found on our arrival, for it is one of the very best on the road.
Left Tournus for Chalons the 14th November, in cold fog and drizzling rain; the view of the town and its towers, and the windings of the Saône, which I thought pretty when we rode here on a sunny morning, having lost its charm now, seen through the mist which lay heavily on the few leafless trees, and the waves of mud of the straight road before us. Before reaching Chalons we came again on the broken, bad pavé; the sides of the road impassable, as our horses slipped or sunk into the heavy ground almost to the knee. Arrived at the Hôtel du Parc; uncomfortable as before.
15th November.
A lovely morning, though the fog overtook us, and the last of our rides which possessed any interest; for, after Chagny’s plain and pavé, we entered the valley, and passed the ruins of La Rochepot; they had less beauty in the gleam of November sunshine, and clouds and mist hid the plains of Bresse, and the line of snowy mountains which terminated the view. The moor beyond, soaked by autumnal rains, was too heavy to canter over; and the oak wood, beyond Givry, exhibits now but a few brown leaves, clinging mournfully to twigs almost bare. Recognized by postilions who met us on the road in April, and arrived at Arnay le Duc by moonlight.
16th November.
As it rains now every other day, it rained this morning, and our hostess as we left her shrugged her shoulders at our insanity. We hoped to pass Rouvray and reach Avallon, but when two leagues and a half from Roche en Breuil, Grizzy dropped a hind shoe, and we were retarded by the necessity of leading her thither, for in the two wretched villages we rode through, there was no farrier. Entering Rouvray, Fanny dropped one of hers put on at Florence, and we went to and were well received at the Ancienne Poste, our old quarters.
17th November.
Wished to get on to Auxerre, for the day was warm and lovely, but to do so took unwisely our host’s advice, and a short cut by an abandoned route, where we sank into mud, and scrambled over stones and rode through a deep stream, till at the first village we reached we were very happy to inquire the way to join the high road again, and thus doubling instead of saving distance, and climbing the long hills of Burgundy, it was already dark when we reached St. Bris. We reckoned on the moon, but she was hid in heavy clouds till we reached Vermenton, where, her light no longer needed, she shone forth splendidly.