We, too, being only passers by, must leave Autun in haste. The autumn sun was setting, and the ruby mists of evening were creeping up the purple slopes of the Morvan, as the train steamed out of the station. Our compartment was quite unlit, and gradually, as night fell, darkness enwrapped us so completely that we could not so much as see a hand held before the face. When we drew up at Epinac, a bent old woman, standing huddled up on the platform, peered into the compartment, in a futile endeavour to see what it might contain. She called the guard. They both looked in. "Fait ben noir" (very dark), she muttered. He shrugged his shoulders. The old woman wandered off vacantly. Third class fare on a monopoly railway does not entitle you to light; and she knew it. Along the darkened train ran a legend that they were buying oil and wick in the town. We waited, waited, long enough for them to have bought up the whole town and the one beyond it. But no light came, until, southward, I saw a faint, silvery glimmer. Then I knew what we were waiting for. There is no charge for moonlight—not even on that railway. But it was still dark as pitch. With a jerk the train began to move out; a large parcel, the property of a young French girl in front of me, fell down upon the head of her small and sleepy nephew, Madelon, who howled plaintively. The soldier in the corner, compelled by the presence of ladies to refrain, for an hour past, from indulging in his ruling passion, could contain himself no longer. He spat voluminously, vociferously, like a hen clucking. Almost as loudly Madelon sucked at a lozenge bestowed for the soothing of the bruised head. As the moon rose, the darkness paled. I could just see Madelon regarding complacently the lozenge that he had removed from his mouth.
"Madelon, Madelon, how many times have I told you not to take things from your mouth when you are eating? Once in, they must stay in. Veux tu m'obéir." The rich sucking noise ceased, to be followed by the light breathing of a child asleep. We stopped at another station. Not content with the moon, people put their heads out of the windows, and clamoured for light. They chaffed the station-master; they ragged the guard. Like rabbits the men ran up and down over the roofs of the carriages. Five porters gathered in a little woe-begone group, and looked on vacantly. But no light came. A tin trumpet blew, and the train started. An hour later we were climbing the hills of the Côte d'Or and dropping down into the eastern plain. That is how we left Autun.
Footnotes:
[50] "Impressions of Provence," pp. 118-121.
[51] P. G. Hamerton. "The Mount," p. 115.
[52] "Autun et ses Monuments."
[53] "Autun et ses Monuments," pp. 143-147. For full description of the tomb of Lazarus, see p. 148.
[54] P. G. Hamerton. "The Mount," p. 167.
[55] "Autun et ses Monuments," p. 153.