"La Crau? les cailloux?" Ah! no, there was no one who could give me any information about them here. "But at Miramas——"
Miramas! But that was miles along the line!
Monsieur le Chef de Gare looked at me pityingly. True, but he understood I was inquiring about the stones of La Crau.
So I was——!
"Eh bien, il y a des entrepreneurs a Miramas——"
Then I understood. He thought I wanted to enter into negotiations for buying stones for building or other purposes.
When at last he took in the situation he shook his head and shrugged his shoulders as a French official shrugs when he regards your case as at once foolish and hopeless.
To arrive en pleine Crau one must go at least five kilometres. It did seem hopeless indeed, for even if disposed for the lonely walk, there would not have been time to go and return in time to catch the only reasonable train back to Arles. I had made many efforts already to accomplish this project, and all had failed through inaccurate directions of this nature. Naturally there were no excursion trains to the Crau. Still I could not resign myself to failure. Was there no trap, no inn where I could hire something to drive in? I didn't care what it was.
This grand indifference seemed to strike an answering spark. Well, there was a little mas (farm) over the way. The farmer had an old dog-cart that he drove in; perhaps I might make an arrangement with him.
Monsieur le Chef de Gare pointed to a barn opposite where I found an old cart, the farmer, several labourers, and a lot of dogs.