D. 1066), and depict
for the reader, almost with the accuracy of a photograph, its grotesque
proportions. It stands on a bank, in a prominent position, by the
roadside; a rude contrast to the surrounding scenery. Presently there
comes up an old cantonnier in a blouse and heavy sabots, who has just
returned from mending the roads; he takes off his cap, crosses himself
devoutly, and kneels down to pray. The sun shines upon the cross and
upon the kneeling figure; the soft wind plays about them, the bank is
lovely with wild flowers; there are purple hills beyond, and a company
of white clouds careering through space. But the old man sees nothing
but the cross, he has no eyes for the beauty of landscape, no ear for
the music of the birds or the voices of nature; he sees nothing but the
image of his Saviour, he kneels as he knelt in childhood before the
cross, he clasps his worn hands, and prays, with many repetitions,
words which evidently bring comfort to his soul. In a few minutes the
old man rises and puts on his cap, with a brass plate on it with the
number of his canton, produces a little can of soup and bread and sits
down on the bank to breakfast; ending by unrolling a morsel of tobacco
from a crumpled paper, putting it into his mouth and going fast asleep.
[Illustration]
Many more such scenes we could record, but they are more fitted for the
pencil than the pen; the artist can easily fill his sketch-book without
going far from Avranches.
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