The Horseman on the Roof by Jean Giono Page B

valley.
    The little boy marched very pluckily at Angelo’s side and was never in doubt about the direction to take. The young woman had a watch. It was three in the morning.
    Daybreak began around four. It illuminated a vast, undulating wilderness. “All the better,” said Angelo. “Here we can walk in peace. Besides, the main road must be on our left, in that sort of gully full of slumbering mists. Let’s not worry, but push ahead. The most important thing now is to find a farm where the four of us can get something to eat.” And he very solemnly congratulated the little boy; he knew that they are braver and bolder than men as soon as they are taken seriously. He wanted him to be able to go on marching gallantly. Besides, Angelo had taken a great fancy to him, and there was every reason to congratulate him; all night long he had proved an unerring guide.
    Nevertheless, Angelo, with three days’ growth of beard, his face all streaked with runnels of dried sweat and his shirt torn by brambles, did not seem to inspire great confidence in his companions. He noticed this when he met the green eyes of the young woman. Luckily, he had very handsome summer boots, of fine supple leather even though they were varnished, and so well-fitting that it was impossible to believe he had stolen them. “That’s precisely why I paid Giuseppe a hundred francs for them,” he thought; “I need a passport that I can use. Yet I can’t push them into her face.” He tried to talk about them, but all he managed to do was to convince the young woman that he was vexed at spoiling such fine boots on the cutting stones of the hills, and she proposed right away to give him back his horse.
    â€œI’m an idiot,” he said. “Sit quietly where you are. I was trying to give you good reasons for believing that I’m as decent a fellow as your saucepan dealer. I always overdo it. You’d have learned quickly enough, without my boots, that my one idea is to help you, and you’d have been the first to laugh at the anxiety I saw in your eyes just now when you observed my miserable getup. What makes me so clumsy is that I always want to please people absolutely. Nine times out of ten, that makes them take me for what I’m not. I really am a colonel; that’s not a joke. Only, like you, for three days I’ve been trying to get out of this infernal countryside, full of cowards and heroes, each more terrible than the other. And I’ve been through some very nasty moments.”
    The young woman, who happened to have fine green eyes, smiled and said that she wasn’t afraid. It was evident that she did not believe the part about the colonel. Her smile, which was indeed charming, said that she had better things to do than dispute its truth, and like a Madonna she clasped the sleeping body of the little girl to her.
    The sun was completely up when they perceived, nestling in the folds of a small valley, a farm close by three terraces of olives and a big field of lucerne.
    Angelo halted his party under an ilex. The little girl was sleeping so deeply that she barely opened her eyes when she was lifted down from the horse and laid on the ground.
    â€œHere’s the first house with a smoking chimney,” said Angelo; “we’re in luck. You stay here; I’ll go down and ask for something to eat at a good price. Don’t worry about anything; I’ve got money.”
    The house was closed; even barricaded, it seemed; but for the smoke rising from the chimney one might have thought it deserted. Angelo called. A window opened and a man appeared, pointing a shotgun. “On your way,” he said.
    â€œI’m certainly not ill,” said Angelo, “and I’ve got a woman and two children up there under that tree, you can see them from here. They haven’t eaten for two days. Sell me a little bread and cheese; I’ll pay whatever you