Their works, up to this time, have
been composed, as one may say, by the lips, and never can a nation
so vehement be stirred up by such shrill notes.
CHAPTER 15
Road from Moscow to Petersburg.
I quitted Moscow with regret: I stopped a short time in a wood near
the city, where on holidays the inhabitants go to dance, and
celebrate the sun, whose splendor is of such short duration, even at
Moscow. What is it then I see, in advancing towards the North? Even
these eternal birch trees, which weary you with their monotony,
become very rare, it is said, as you approach Archangel; they are
preserved there, like orange trees in France. The country from
Moscow to Petersburg is at first sandy, and afterwards all marsh:
when it rains, the ground becomes black, and the high road becomes
undistinguishable. The houses of the peasants, however, every where
indicate a state of comfort; they are decorated with columns, and
the windows are surrounded with arabesques carved in wood. Although
it was summer when I passed through this country, I already felt the
threatening winter which seemed to conceal itself behind the clouds:
of the fruits which were offered to me, the flavor was bitter,
because their ripening had been too much hastened; a rose excited
emotion in me as a recollection of our fine countries, and the
flowers themselves appeared to carry their heads with less pride, as
if the icy hand of the North had been already prepared to pluck
them.
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