Par.
1 1 | last summer on the banks of the Seine, several leagues
2 1 | I made the acquaintance of one of my neighbors, a man
3 1 | the acquaintance of one of my neighbors, a man between
4 2 | walking along the banks of the Seine I asked him to
5 3 | profound, unknown, a land of mirages and phantasmagoria,
6 3 | fact, the most sinister of cemeteries, one in which
7 4 | and this eternal motion of flowing water is more terrible
8 4 | to me than the high waves of the ocean.~
9 5 | in its bosom vast tracts of blue where those who are
10 5 | it sparkles in the light of the rising sun and gently
11 6 | The poet says, speaking of the ocean,~
12 8 | Deep waves, the dread of kneeling mothers' hearts!~
13 13| tragedies told by the roaring of the waves.~
14 14| you have asked for some of my recollections, I will
15 14| recollections, I will tell you of a singular adventure that
16 15| Mother Lafon's house, and one of my closest friends, Louis
17 15| was living in the village of C., two leagues further
18 18| the current, to the end of the chain, and then stopped,
19 18| almost imperceptible lapping of the water against the bank,
20 18| I noticed taller groups of reeds which assumed strange
21 19| those nocturnal singers of the marsh, were silent.~
22 20| although I was a noted colorer of pipes, I could not smoke;
23 20| began to sing. The sound of my voice was distressing
24 20| presently the slight motion of the boat disturbed me. It
25 20| lurches, from bank to bank of the river, touching each
26 20| drawing her to the surface of the water and lifting her
27 21| something at the bottom of the river and I could not
28 21| stream to change the position of the anchor. It was no use,
29 21| situation. I could not dream of breaking this chain, or
30 21| riveted at the bows to a piece of wood as thick as my arm.
31 21| my pipe. I had a bottle of rum; I drank two or three
32 22| little knock at the side of the boat. I gave a start,
33 22| doubtless, caused by some piece of wood borne along by the
34 23| could perceive only the tops of the reeds, and farther off
35 23| which were formed by groups of Italian poplars. I was as
36 23| to the waist in a cloud of cotton of singular whiteness,
37 23| waist in a cloud of cotton of singular whiteness, and
38 23| whiteness, and all sorts of strange fancies came into
39 23| the thick fog, was full of strange creatures which
40 23| beside myself, I thought of swimming away from the place.
41 23| by the feet to the bottom of these black waters.~
42 25| what there was to be afraid of. My brave "ego" ridiculed
43 25| day, the existence in us of two rival personalities,
44 26| stretch with expectation. Of what? I did not know, but
45 26| occurred to a fish to jump out of the water, as often happens,
46 27| again. I took up my bottle of rum and took several pulls.
47 27| might towards all the points of the compass in succession.
48 28| myself out at the bottom of the boat. I remained there
49 28| and looked over the edge of the boat. I was dazzled
50 28| possible to see. It was one of those phantasmagoria of
51 28| of those phantasmagoria of fairyland, one of those
52 28| phantasmagoria of fairyland, one of those sights described by
53 29| the dazzling brilliance of snow. One saw nothing but
54 29| full moon, in the midst of a bluish, milky sky.~
55 30| and mournful metallic note of the bullfrogs. Strange to
56 30| afraid. I was in the midst of such an unusual landscape
57 31| down and the sky was full of clouds. The water lapped
58 31| pitch dark. I drank the rest of the rum, then listened,
59 31| trembled, to the rustling of the reeds and the foreboding
60 31| and the foreboding sound of the river. I tried to see,
61 32| came near and I told him of my ill-luck. He rowed his
62 32| rowed his boat alongside of mine and, together, we pulled
63 32| gray, rainy and cold, one of those days that bring one
64 32| hailed it. The man on board of her joined his efforts to
65 32| board. It was the corpse of an old women with a big
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