Chapter 61 stick in five wheels

At that time, the postal services from Arras to Montreuil-sur-Mer still used small box cars of the Empire era.The box car was a small two-wheeled cart with orange leather on the inside, and the body was suspended on coiled springs. It had only two seats, one for the postman and the other for passengers.The wheels are equipped with the kind of long hubs that hinder people, so that the next car must keep a certain distance from it, and the kind of cars can still be seen on German roads today.The mail box is a large rectangular box, which is installed at the rear of the car and is integrated with the body.The box was painted black and the body was painted yellow.

There is an indescribably hunchbacked appearance about that car, and there is nothing like it today; we see that car passing by from afar, or see it crawling along the road on the horizon, they are just like, I Presumably, those insects with thin white waists and huge rears that people call termites.But they go pretty fast.The box car leaves Arras at one o'clock in the evening after the arrival of the mail from Paris, and arrives at Montreuil-sur-Mer just before five o'clock in the morning. That night, as it was going into the city, the boxcar going to Montreuil-sur-Mer via Esdam, at the corner of a street, hit a small car from the opposite direction, which was drawn by a white horse. There was only one man in a cloak inside.There was a rather violent bump against the wheels of the cart, and the postman told the man to stop, but the driver would not listen, but hurried on as usual and continued on his way.

"What a ghostly impatient man!" said the postman. The man who hastened to that degree is the one whom we have just seen struggling, and indeed deserves pity. Where is he going?He can't say.Why is he in a hurry?he does not know.He walked aimlessly.What direction?It must have been Arras, but he might be going elsewhere.Sometimes, he thought he would do that, and he shuddered.He sank into that kind of night, like sinking into an abyss.Something was pushing him, something was pulling him.What is in his heart probably no one can tell at this time, but in the future everyone will understand.Who has never once in his life entered such a dark cave?

Besides, he hadn't made up his mind at all, hadn't made up his mind at all, hadn't chosen at all, wasn't prepared at all.All the movements of his mind are uncertain.He is exactly what he was at the beginning. Why did he go to Arras? He repeated in his mind what he had said to himself when he booked the car with Scotfryer: "No matter what the result is, it is absolutely advisable to see it with your own eyes and judge those things for yourself"; , you should also understand the situation"; "Without observation and research, you can't make any decisions"; "If you are far away, you will always exaggerate things. Once you see the scoundrel Shangmadi, your conscience may be greatly shaken." If you relax, you can let him go to suffer torture in your place”; “Of course Javert will be there, as well as those old convicts Bravet, Chenijie, and Ghoshbai. Although they knew him before, but now they are determined to will not recognize him"; "Pfft! Fancy!" "Javert is still completely asleep"; "All guesses and all doubts are concentrated on Shangmadi, and guesses and doubts are the most stubborn things”; “therefore there is absolutely no danger”.

It was an unlucky moment, of course, but he was not affected; in short, however dangerous his fate may be, he held it in his own hands; he was the master of his fate.He stuck to that idea. In fact, to tell the truth, he preferred not to go to Arras. But he went. While he was thinking, he whipped the horse, which kept steady and stomped forward at two and a half leagues an hour. The more the car moved forward, the more his heart retreated. By daybreak he was in flat country, with Montreuil-sur-Mer far behind him.He looked at the whitening of the sky; he looked, but didn't see, all kinds of cold scenes at dawn in winter passed before his eyes one by one.Morning, like evening, has its phantoms.He didn't see them, but the black shadows of those trees and hills seemed to pass through his body, unconsciously adding an indescribable desolation to his tense mood.

Every time he passed a lonely house that was sometimes near the road, he said to himself: "There must be people sleeping in the beds there!" Horseshoes, copper bells, and wheels all made soft and monotonous sounds along the way.Those things sound very pleasant to happy people, but feel infinitely desolate to sad people. It was broad daylight when he arrived at Estan.He stopped in front of an inn to let the horse breathe, and ordered buckwheat to be brought to him. The horse, Scouffrell had already said, was a Boulogne colt, with a head and belly too large, a neck too short, but a broad chest, broad rump, dry, slender legs, strong feet, and a good-looking appearance. Quiet and well-built; that fine beast covered five leagues in two hours without a drop of sweat on its rump.

He didn't get out of the car.The groom who brought buckwheat to feed the horses suddenly squatted down to check the left wheel. "Are you going to go this far?" said the man. Almost still in a dream, he answered: "how?" "Did you come from afar?" the boy asked again. "Five leagues from here." "oops!" "Why did you say 'oops'?" The boy bent down again, paused for a while, looked at the wheel carefully, then stood up and said: "Because the wheel traveled five leagues just now, perhaps rightly, but now it never travels a quarter of a league."

He jumped out of the car. "What do you say, my friend?" "I say it's a miracle of God that you've traveled five leagues, and that you don't roll your horse and man into the ditch on the side of the road. See for yourself." That wheel did suffer badly.The post box car had broken two spokes and cracked a piece of the hub, and the helix was no longer standing. "My friend," he said to the stable boy, "is there a wheeler here?" "Of course there is, sir." "Please do me a favor and go find him." "He's over there, just two steps away. Hey! Master Bujaya!"

Master Bujaya, the wheelwright, was at his door, and he came to check the wheel, putting on an ugly face, just like a surgeon studying a broken leg. "Can you fix this wheel at once?" "Okay, sir." "When can I go on the road again?" "tomorrow." "tomorrow!" "There's a full day's work here. Is there something urgent, sir?" "Very urgent. I must be on my way within an hour at the latest." "Impossible, sir." "I will give you as much money as you want." "impossible." "In two hours, then."

"It won't work today. I'll have to redo two spokes and a hub. Sir won't be able to go till tomorrow." "I can't wait until tomorrow. If you don't fix that wheel, you can get another one, okay?" "How?" "Are you the master wheelwright?" "Of course, sir." "Don't you have a wheel to sell me? I can go right away." "A spare wheel?" "Yes." "I didn't have any wheels for your cart. Wheels always come in pairs. Two wheels don't make a pair by chance." "In that case, sell me a pair of wheels."

"Sir, wheels don't fit every vehicle." "Maybe try it." "It's no use, sir. I've got only ox-wheels for sale, and we're a small place here." "Do you have a car for me to rent?" The master wheelwright saw at a glance that his small car was rented.He shrugged. "They rented the car to you, and you took good care of it! I wouldn't rent it to you if I had one." "So, sell it to me?" "I didn't sell it." "What! Not a broken car? You can see that I'm not hard to talk to." "We're a little place. In the shed over there," went on the wheelmaker, "I have an old floppy bike that a gentleman in the town gave me to keep until the third of every month. The 16th is only used once. I may as well rent it to you, what business is that to me? But the gentleman must not see it go by; besides, it is a floppy cart, and must have two horses no." "I can use the post office horse." "Where is sir going?" "To Arras." "And is sir coming today?" "Yes." "A horse from the post office?" "Why not?" "Supposing the husband arrives at four o'clock tonight, is that all right?" "No way." "Just, you know, there's something to say, in the words of the horse at the post office . . . Does sir have a passport?" "Have." "Then, with the horses from the post office, Monsieur can't get to Arras before tomorrow. We're on a side road. The changing station is doing a bad job, and the horses are in the fields. The plowing season has begun. Everyone. Strong horses are needed, and the post office and other places are looking for horses everywhere. You have to wait at least three or four hours at every changing station. And you can only go slowly. There are many slopes to climb." "Well, I'll go on horseback. Untie the cart, please. I can get a set of saddles around here." "Certainly. But will the horse be saddled?" "Really, you remind me. The horse won't be saddled." "So……" "In this village, I can always find a horse for rent." "A horse that walks all the way to Arras?" "correct." "You must have a horse of the kind we can't find here. First of all, you must buy it, because we don't know you. But there is neither for sale nor rent, five hundred francs, a thousand francs. Not good. You can't find a horse like that." "what to do?" "It's better, honest man, to tell the truth, I'll fix your wheel and you don't go until tomorrow." "Tomorrow is too late." "Holy Mother!" "Is there no mail here for Arras? When did it pass?" "Tonight. Those two boxcars go on and off at night." "What! You'll have to work a day to fix that wheel?" "One day, and a whole day!" "What about two workers?" "It won't work with ten!" "What if we tied those two spokes together with a rope?" "Tie the spokes, yes. Tie the hubs, no. And the tires are broken." "Are there taxis in town?" "No." "Any other wheelwrights?" The groom and master wheelwright shook their heads at the same time and replied: "No." He felt a great joy. It is obvious that God arranged it from it.It is God's will to break the wheel and stop him halfway.He was still unconvinced by this first revelation. He had just tried his best to find out the possibility of continuing to move forward. He had faithfully and carefully thought of all methods. He has nothing to blame himself for.If he doesn't go far, it's none of his business.That was no longer his fault, not a matter of his conscience, but God's will. He let out a breath.For the first time since Javert's visit, he let out a long and pleasant breath.It seemed to him that the iron hand that had gripped his heart for twenty hours had just loosened. He seemed to feel that now God was on his side and had revealed his will. He told himself that he had done all he could, and that now he had no choice but to turn back with a clear conscience. If his conversation with the wheeler had taken place in one of the inn rooms, and no one else had been present, and no one had heard them, the matter might have come to a halt, and the twists and turns we are about to read would have been impossible. Yes, but that conversation took place in the street.Handovers on the street will inevitably attract some spectators around to watch the excitement, and there are people who love to watch the excitement anytime, anywhere.While he was questioning the wheelwright, some passers-by stopped around them.Among them was a young boy, who was also ignored at the time, and after listening for a few minutes, he left the group and ran away. The traveler, after going through the thought activities we just mentioned, was about to turn back the way he came, when the child came back.Another old woman followed him. "Sir," said the old woman, "my boy told me you wanted to rent a car." That simple word from the old woman the boy had brought with him immediately made him sweat profusely.He seemed to see the hand that had let go of him reappear in the shadow behind him, ready to grab him again. He replied: "Yes, good mother, I'm looking for a cab." He hastily added: "But there are no cars here." "Yes." The woman said. "Where will it be?" asked the wheelwright. "In my house," replied the old woman. He was taken aback.The deadly hand seized him again. The old woman did have a wicker car under a shed.The wheelwright and the servant at the inn were very displeased when they saw that their business could not be done, and they said something like this: "It's a horrible wreck", "It's mounted directly on the axles", "Those seats do hang in the car with some straps", "Water leaks in it", "The wheels are rusted, And it's all rusted from damp", "It doesn't seem likely it'll go any farther than this little car", "A real wreck!", "This gentleman would be fooled if he went in one of those cars". All that was true, but that wreck, that wreck, that thing, anyway, would roll on its wheels, and roll to Arras. He paid the rent she asked for, left the cart at the wheelwright's house for him to repair, agreed to come back to pick it up later, harnessed the white horse to the cart, got into the cart, and walked on again. that way. As the car started to move, he admitted to himself how light and pleasant it had been just now to think that he would not have to go where he was going again.He examined the cheerfulness angrily, finding it absurd.Turn back, why be happy?In any case, he is free to go or not.No one forced him. Besides, nothing happens to him that he doesn't want to happen to. He was walking out of Esdan, when a human voice shouted to him: "Stop! Stop!" He stopped the car with a quick movement, and there seemed to be a sense of impatience and nervousness, similar to hope, in that movement. It was the old woman's child. "Sir," he said, "I found this car for you." "So what?" "You haven't given me anything yet." Give alms everywhere.And he was so willing to give alms, but at this moment he felt that such extravagant expectations were excessive and ugly. "Ah! Is that so, little monster!" said he. "You'll get nothing!" He whipped the horse and walked away in a hurry. He has been delayed for too long in Estan, and he wants to catch up with time.That pony is very strong, and one can be used as two when pulling a cart, but it was February weather, it was raining, and the road was bad.Moreover, it was no longer that small car, this car was really hard to pull and very heavy.There are still many slopes to climb. It took him almost four hours to walk from Estanne to Saint-Pol.Four hours and five miles. On entering Saint-Pol, he untied his horse at the first inn he saw, and had it taken to the stables.While the horses ate, he did as he had promised Scouffrell, and stood by the trough.He thought of something sad and rambling. The proprietress of the inn came to the stable. "Sir, don't you eat lunch?" "Ah, yes," he said, "I'd love to eat it." He followed the cheerful, fresh-faced woman.She led him into a low hall with tables covered with oilcloth napkins. "Hurry up, please," he added, "I've got to go. I'm in a hurry." A fat Flemish serving girl hurriedly set the table.Looking at the girl, he felt a little relieved. "I'm sorry for that," he thought. "I didn't eat breakfast." Food is brought.He hastily picked up a piece of bread, took a big bite, and then slowly put it on the table without moving it. A coachman was eating at another table.He said to the man: "Why is their bread so bitter here?" The driver, a German, did not hear. He went back to the stable and stood beside the horse. At the end of an hour he left Saint-Pol, and made his way to Dank, which was five leagues from Arras. What did he do along the way?What do you think of?As in the morning, he watched the trees, the sod roofs of the houses, the plowed fields - appear and disappear before his eyes, disappearing again at every turn.That kind of appreciation is sometimes comforting, and it can almost make people forget everything.For the first and last time in his life, he looked at the thousands of scenery, nothing could be more depressing than this!To travel is to live and die at any time.Perhaps he is in the most twilight state of his mind, and he is comparing life with those changing scenes.Everything in life disappears before our eyes at any time, and darkness and light alternate with each other; The corner of the road; suddenly, people are old.We suddenly felt that everything was dark, we saw a dark door, the dark horse of life that we used to gallop stopped, and we saw a vague and unknown person unload it in the darkness the bridle. Towards dusk some children from school saw the traveler enter Dunk.Really, that's the season of the year when the days are short and the nights are long.He didn't stop in Dank.As he drove out of the country, a roadman laying stones on the road looked up and said: "The horse is tired enough." The poor animal could only go slowly. "Are you going to Arras?" said the road worker again. "yes." "Going like this, I'm afraid you won't arrive too early." He reined in his horse and asked the road worker: "How far is it from here to Arras?" "Almost seven leagues." "Where? The postal brochure says only five leagues and a quarter." "Ah!" the road worker went on, "don't you know that we are repairing the road? If you walk a quarter of an hour from here, you will see that the road is broken. There is no way to go over it." "Really?" "You can turn left, take the road that leads to Galancy, cross the river, and when you get to Cambran, turn right again, and that's the road from Mont-Saint-Arras to Arras." "But it's getting dark, and I'm going to go the wrong way." "Aren't you a local?" "no." "You don't know it well, and it's all a fork in the road. Well, sir," went on the roadman, "do you want me to advise you? Your horse is tired, and you go back to Dunk. There's a home there. Good inn. Spend the night there and go to Arras to-morrow." "I must reach Arras tonight." "That's another matter. Then, you still go to the inn, and a side horse. The groom can also lead you on the path." He accepted the road worker's suggestion, turned back, and half an hour later, he passed the place again, but with a strong horse, he ran over at a fast trot.A groom sat on the shaft to lead the way. But he felt that time had been lost. It was completely dark. They went fork in the road.The road is very bad.The car fell from this rut ​​to that rut.He said to the guide: "Run as fast as before, and the drink will be doubled." The car fell into a pothole, and the crossbar that tied the harness to the front of the car was broken by the shock. "Sir," said the guide, "the crossbar is broken. I don't know how to harness my horse. The road is too difficult to walk at night. If you will go back to Dunk and sleep, we can get to Arras early in the morning." He replied: "Have you got a rope and a knife?" "Yes, sir." He cut a branch and made a bar for the harness. That delayed another twenty minutes, but they set off at a run. The plain is bleak.The low-hanging thick fog, like smoke, coiled and crawled on the hills.A whitish afterglow is reflected in the floating clouds.Gusts of wind blew from the sea, and in every corner of the horizon there was a sound as if furniture were being dragged.Everything that was looming was a sight of terror.How many things are trembling in the blanket of night air! He was attacked by cold air.He hadn't eaten since last night.He vaguely recalled the scene of walking at night in the wilderness outside the city of Digne.That was eight years ago, but it seems like yesterday. He heard the bell ringing in the distance, and asked the young man, saying: "What time is it?" "It's seven o'clock, sir. By eight we shall be in Arras. We have only three leagues to go." At this time, he thought this way for the first time, and he wondered why he hadn't thought this way before: he had spent so much effort, maybe it was just in vain, and he didn't even know the time of the trial; at least he should first Just ask, it's really a bit embarrassing to just go forward like this without knowing whether it will be beneficial or not.Then he calculated in his mind: the court usually starts at nine o'clock in the morning; this case will not take long; the matter of stealing apples will be over soon; the rest is just how to prove who he is There was a problem; after four or five pieces of evidence had been presented the lawyers had little to say; and by the time he came the case was all closed. The guide whipped the horse.They crossed the river, and Mount Sant'Arro fell behind them. The night was getting darker.