My guns never came after all, and I was obliged to borrow. The one lent
me had one barrel smooth-bore, the other rifled.
We drove for some distance along the Hatszeg highroad, then turned off
to the right. Continuing our course for some time, we came to the pretty
little village of Moeruel, where we breakfasted. It was quite the cleanest
and neatest Wallack settlement that I had seen at all. It is celebrated
for the beauty of its women. Several very pretty girls in their
picturesque costume were gathered round the village well, engaged in
filling their classical-shaped pitchers. Every movement of their arms
was grace itself. The action was not from the elbow, but from the
shoulder, whereby one sees the arm extended in the curved line of
beauty, instead of sticking out at a sharp angle, as with us Western
races.
The weather had improved considerably. Our breakfast, for which we
halted on the further outskirts of the village, was very agreeably
discussed amidst much general good-humour. The peasants regarded us with
frank undisguised curiosity, coming round to watch our proceedings.
After leaving Moeruel we got really into the wilds. A very bad road led
up through a magnificent valley, the scenery most romantic; indeed every
turn brought to view some new aspect, calling forth admiration. On our
right was a fine trout-stream of that delicious brown tint welcome to
the eye of the fisherman.
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