We said good evening to the bagmen and walked out into the
street. 'Up the hill or down?' asked Jinks, and I explained to him
very clearly that, since rivers followed the bottoms of their
valleys, we should be safe in going downhill if we wanted to find the
bridge. And I'd scarcely said the words before it flashed across me
that I was drunk as Chloe.
"Here's another thing.--I'd never been drunk before, and I haven't
been drunk since: but all the same I knew that this wasn't the least
like ordinary drunkenness: it was too--what shall I say?--too
brilliant. The whole town of Bergerac belonged to me: and, what was
better, it was lit so that I could steer my way perfectly, although
the street seemed to be quite amazingly full of people, jostling and
chattering. I turned to call Jinks's attention to this, and was
saying something about a French crowd--how much cheerfuller it was
than your average English one--when all of a sudden Jinks wasn't
there! No, nor the crowd! I was alone on Bergerac bridge, and I
leaned with both elbows on the parapet and gazed at the Dordogne
flowing beneath the moon.
"It was not an ordinary river, for it ran straight up into the sky:
and the moon, unlike ordinary moons, kept whizzing on an axis like a
Catherine-wheel, and swelled every now and then and burst into
showers of the most dazzling fireworks.
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