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The Path to Rome by Hilaire Belloc
page 72 of 311 (23%)
earth. I bowed with real contrition, for at several moments I had
believed myself better than they. Then I went to my bed and they to
theirs. The wind howled outside; my boots were stiff like wood and I
could hardly take them off; my feet were so martyrized that I doubted
if I could walk at all on the morrow. Nevertheless I was so wrapped
round with the repose of this family's virtues that I fell asleep at
once. Next day the sun was rising in angry glory over the very distant
hills of Germany, his new light running between the pinnacles of the
clouds as the commands of a conqueror might come trumpeted down the
defiles of mountains, when I fearlessly forced my boots on to my feet
and left their doors.

The morning outside came living and sharp after the gale--almost
chilly. Under a scattered but clearing sky I first limped, then, as
my blood warmed, strode down the path that led between the trees of
the farther vale and was soon following a stream that leaped from one
fall to another till it should lead me to the main road, to Belfort,
to the Jura, to the Swiss whom I had never known, and at last to
Italy.

But before I call up the recollection of that hidden valley, I must
describe with a map the curious features of the road that lay before
me into Switzerland. I was standing on the summit of that knot of
hills which rise up from every side to form the Ballon d'Alsace, and
make an abrupt ending to the Vosges. Before me, southward and
eastward, was a great plain with the fortress of Belfort in the midst
of it. This plain is called by soldiers 'the Gap of Belfort', and is
the only break in the hill frontier that covers France all the way
from the Mediterranean to Flanders. On the farther side of this plain
ran the Jura mountains, which are like a northern wall to Switzerland,
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