A Little Swiss Sojourn | Page 4

was chiefly
employed about the grounds; in-doors his use was mostly to mount the
peculiar clogs used for the purpose, and rub the waxed floors till they
shone. These floors were very handsome, of hard woods prettily inlaid;
and Louis produced an effect upon them that it seemed a pity to mar
with muddy shoes.

I do not speak of Alexis, the farmer, who appeared in domestic
exigencies; but my picture would be incomplete without the portrait of
Poppi. Poppi was the large house-dog, who in early life had intended to
call himself Puppy, but he naturally pronounced it with a French accent.
He was now far from young, but he was still Poppi. I believe he was
the more strictly domestic in his habits because an infirmity of temper
had betrayed him into an attack upon a neighbor, or a neighbor's dog,
and it was no longer safe for him to live much out-of-doors. The
confinement had softened his temper, but it had rendered him
effeminate and self-indulgent. He had, in fact, been spoiled by the
boarders, and he now expected to be present at meals, and to be fed
with choice morsels from their plates. As the cold weather came on he
developed rheumatism, and demanded our sympathy as well as our
hospitality. If Elise in waiting on table brushed him with her skirts, he
set up a lamentable cry, and rushed up to the nearest guest, and put his
chin on the table for his greater convenience in being comforted. At a
dance which we had one evening Poppi insisted upon being present,
and in his efforts to keep out of the way and in the apprehensions he
suffered he abandoned himself to moans and howls that sometimes
drowned the piano.
Yet Poppi was an amiable invalid, and he was on terms of perfect
friendship with the cats, of which there were three
generations--Boulette, Boulette's mother, and Boulette's grandmother.
They were not readily distinguishable from one another, and I really
forget which it was that used to mount to the dining-room window
without, and paw the glass till we let her in; but we all felt that it was a
great accomplishment, and reflected credit upon us.
VI
The vineyard began immediately behind the laurels that enclosed the
house, and at a little distance, where the mountain began to lift from the
narrow plateau, stood the farmer's stone cottage, with the stables and
the wine-vaults under the same roof. Mademoiselle gave us grapes
from her vines at dinner, and the walnut-trees seemed public property,
though I think one was not allowed to knock the nuts off, but was only

free of the windfalls. A little later they were all gathered, and on a
certain night the girls and the young men of the village have the custom
to meet and make a frolic of cracking them, as they used in husking
corn with us. Then the oil is pressed out, and the commune apportions
each family its share, according to the amount of nuts contributed. This
nut oil imparts a sentiment to salad which the olive cannot give, and
mushrooms pickled in it become the most delicious and indigestible of
all imaginable morsels. I have had dreams from those pickled
mushrooms which, if I could write them out, would make my fortune as
a romantic novelist.
The Swiss breakfast was our old friend the Italian breakfast, with butter
and Gruyère cheese added to the milk and coffee. We dined at one
o'clock, and at six or seven we supped upon a meal that had left off
soup and added tea, in order to differ from the dinner. For all this, with
our rooms, we paid what we should have paid at a New Hampshire
farm-house; that is, a dollar a day each.
But the air was such as we could not have got in New Hampshire for
twice the money. It restored one completely every twenty-four hours,
and it not only stimulated but supported one throughout the day. Our
own air is quite as exciting, but after stirring one up, it leaves him to
take the consequences, whereas that faithful Swiss air stood by and
helped out the enterprise. I rose fresh from my forenoon's writing and
eager to walk; I walked all afternoon, and came in perfectly fresh to
supper. One can't speak too well of the Swiss air, whatever one says of
the Swiss sun.
[Illustration: Post-office, Villeneuve]
VII
Whenever it came out, or rather whenever the rain stopped, we pursued
our explorations of the neighborhood. It had many interesting features,
among which was the large Hôtel Byron, very attractive and almost
empty, which we passed every day on our way to the post-office in
Villeneuve, and noted two pretty American shes in eye-glasses playing
croquet amid