pon the banks
of the Garonne, which Mons. Sligniac has lent me, and where I now sit
rhapsodising all these affairs.

--Let me collect myself, and pursue my journey.

Chapter 4.X.

I am glad of it, said I, settling the account with myself, as I walk'd
into Lyons--my chaise being all laid higgledy-piggledy with my baggage
in a cart, which was moving slowly before me--I am heartily glad, said
I, that 'tis all broke to pieces; for now I can go directly by water
to Avignon, which will carry me on a hundred and twenty miles of my
journey, and not cost me seven livres--and from thence, continued I,
bringing forwards the account, I can hire a couple of mules--or asses,
if I like, (for nobody knows me,) and cross the plains of Languedoc for
almost nothing--I shall gain four hundred livres by the misfortune clear
into my purse: and pleasure! worth--worth double the money by it. With
what velocity, continued I, clapping my two hands together, shall I fly
down the rapid Rhone, with the Vivares on my right hand, and Dauphiny
on my left, scarce seeing the ancient cities of Vienne, Valence,
and Vivieres. What a flame will it rekindle in the lamp, to snatch a
blushing grape from the Hermitage and Cote roti, as I shoot by the foot
of them! and what a fresh spring in the blood! to behold upon the banks
advancing and retiring, the castles of romance, whence courteous knights
have whilome rescued the distress'd--and see vertiginous, the rocks, the
mountains, the cataracts, and all the hurry which Nature is in with all
her great works about her.

As I went on thus, methought my chaise, the wreck of which look'd
stately enough at the first, insensibly grew less and less in its
size; the freshness of the painting was no more--the gilding lost its
lustre--and the whole affair appeared so poor in my eyes--so sorry!--so
contemptible! and, in a word, so much worse than the abbess of
Andouillets' itself--that I was just opening my mouth to give it to the
devil--when a pert vamping chaise-undertaker, stepping nimbly across
the street, demanded if Monsieur would have his chaise refitted--No,
no, said I, shaking my head sideways--Would Monsieur choose to sell
it? rejoined the undertaker--With all my soul, said I--the iron work is
worth forty livres--and the glasses worth forty more--and the leather
you may take to live on.

What a mine of wealth, quoth I, as he counted me the money, has this
post-chaise brought me in? And this is my usual m