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´´Hell and Damnation,´´
Madame could occasionally be
heard saying to herself. They had to stop many times
and then Michel would drag the debris off the path.
After many hours of beastly weather, they reached
the papal region. They were exhausted and completely
drenched. One more obstacle had to be faced:
crossing the Rhône River. With a strong head wind,
they arrived at the famous bridge of Avignon. So
far, Mrs. Plombier and her traveling companion had
been taking turns on the driver’s seat, but once
they arrived at the bridge, where the wind was
dangerously powerful, the widow preferred to keep
control of the reins herself. She was just about to
encourage the horse to cross the angry water, when
Michel suddenly shouted “Stop!” She immediately
pulled hard on the reins which caused the horse to
neigh and the wagon to come abruptly to a halt. The
youngest girl began to cry and her sister tried to
comfort her.
“What on earth is the matter?” their mother asked
with astonishment. De Nostredame didn’t say a word,
jumped off the wagon and landed in the mud. Then he
plodded fearlessly through the storm to the bridge,
with his long coat flapping in the wind. When he
arrived at the stone connector, he stood for a
moment, his eyes on the road. He felt how the
greatly swollen river streamed past the piles and
walked back again.
“What are you up to?” Plombier called out.
“All the stuff has to be loaded off the wagon” he
answered, barely audible through the volatile wind.
“Are you crazy?” Michel climbed up on the driver’s
seat and explained himself.
“The bridge is about to collapse!”
“You idiot, wagons have been crossing it for years,”
she said, irritably. The student jumped down from
the wagon in protest and sat down in the mud with
his arms folded across his chest. After a short
deliberation, she decided she might as well obey.
“All right, as long as you’re willing to do the work,”
she demanded, upon which the young man began to drag
the suitcases to the other side right away. Mother,
meanwhile, retrieved her children from under the
canvas and clasped together they followed their
peculiar traveling companion. On the other side of
the river the little family looked for shelter
beside a cliff, while Michel went back to the horse
and wagon. When, after much plodding, he had brought
over all of the household belongings, he tied a long
rope to the horse and walked to the bridge with it.
Above them, threatening clouds rushed past and the
horse refused to come along. Michel spurred it on
with firm tugging movements. Hesitantly, the
frightened horse stepped forward and the wagon
slowly began to move. They approached the age-old
bridge, which looked totally solid and showed no
sign of any defect, and the student led the horse
and wagon across it. After the very smooth crossing,
Madame made a sour face and refused to say another
word to him. After the wagon had been loaded up
again, the journey continued. Finally, they were
approaching the big city. They arrived just before
sundown and not much later they were sitting warm
and safe in front of a crackling fire with the
Plombier family. After a good meal and a night’s
rest, their paths would separate. The youth
expressed his thanks for the hospitality and
carrying his things, he started to walk towards the
university. In the city center, the mayor was
announcing some hot news and the student joined the
gathering crowd which was flocking near. The
announcer theatrically unrolled a parchment.
“The bridge of Avignon has collapsed,” he began.
“Seven people were killed tonight. The bridge was
once destroyed, in 1226. As you can see, the Lord
does not wish this bridge to be here. Our bridge
builder, Bénézet, from days gone by has wrongly been
declared a saint.” It was now completely crowded
with people and many of them blocked Michel’s view,
but he had heard enough and strolled away.
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