The Guest
by Albert Camus. Translated by Justin O'Brien.
1
The schoolmaster was watching the two men climb toward him. One was
on horseback, the other on foot. They had not yet tackled the abrupt
rise leading to the schoolhouse built on the hillside. They were toiling
onward, making slow progress in the snow, among the stones, on the vast
expanse oft he high, deserted plateau. From time to time the horse
stumbled. Without hearing anything yet, he could see the breath issuing
from the horses nostrils. One of the men, at least, knew the region.
They were following the trail although it had disappeared days ago under
a layer of dirty white snow. The schoolmaster calculated that it would
take them half an hour to get onto the hill. It was cold; he went back
into the school to get a sweater.
2
He crossed the empty, frigid classroom. On the blackboard the four
rivers of France, 1 drawn with four different colored chalks, had been
flowing toward their estuaries for the past three days. Snow had
suddenly fallen in mid-October after eight months of drought without the
transition of rain, and the twenty pupils, more or less, who lived in
the villages scattered over the plateau had stopped coming. With fair
weather they would return. Daru now heated only the single room that was
lodging, adjoining the classroom and giving also onto the plateau to
the east. Like the class cows, his window looked to the south too. On
that side the school was a few kilometers from the point where the
plateau began to slope toward the south. In clear weather could be seen
the purple mass of the mountain range where the gap opened onto the
desert.
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