"I should think," said Ned, "if they are making oil, they might afford enough to grease their wheels."
"So should I. Look at those women, Ned," pointing to three who were bearing off sacks on their shoulders, filled with olives. "What a way that is, lading women, and letting asses and mules stand still!"
Great were the surprise and delight of the boys, upon approaching, to recognize in the peasant who had first attracted their attention Gabriel Quesnard, with whom they had become quite familiar, as he had often been to the vessel with eggs, poultry, and vegetables, and the captain had always invited him to eat with him. It was also from him they had bought the honey a few days before.
Gabriel welcomed them most warmly. He could speak English fluently, having had constant intercourse with English and American captains for many years of his youth, when he was a porter at Marseilles; nevertheless, he seemed highly gratified when Ned addressed him in the peculiar dialect of Provence.
"I am most happy to see you, citizens," said he. Quesnard was a thorough radical, a believer in fraternity and equality, and an ardent member of the very party that had pulled down convents, levelled distinctions, destroyed the Bastile, executed the king, guillotined nobles, and turned France upside down. But, for all that, he possessed a kind and generous nature, and was a most excellent husband and father. Though without education, he was a shrewd, discerning man, thoroughly versed in all the local politics and traditions of his country. If he could neither read nor write, he had nevertheless thought much, listened well, and observed closely, been a constant attendant at the assemblies of the people, and an actor in all the terrible scenes of the first years of the revolution. Like many others of the more reflective and intelligent portion of the inhabitants of the southern provinces, he was satisfied when those abominable extortions, levied upon the peasantry both by clergy and nobles under the name of "seignioral rights," or, as it was sometimes called, "the servitude of the soil," were swept away, joined the more moderate party, who thought blood enough had been shed, and were opposed to the savage fanatics, who, in the name of liberty, slew all whom they either hated or feared.
"You find us busy, citizens," he said; "for it is the olive-harvest, and we are later about it than common; but it is now nearly time to leave work. You will go with me to my poor house, and pass the night."
"We thank you kindly," said Ned; "but we are sailors, accustomed to being out of doors, and all kinds of exposure. After being so long penned up on shipboard, we wish to stretch our limbs, see the country, and crops, how the people live, and have made up our minds to sleep on the side of yonder hill, in this sweet air."
"It is winter-time, and the nights are long and cool."
"This weather is summer to us. We came from a country where the winters are severe. We have blankets, and are used to sleeping on the soft side of a plank."
"But your food, citizens."