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Such a man came upon him, like a ghost, at noon in the July weather, as he sat on his heap of stones under a bank, taking such shelter as he could get from a shower of hail. eOn chus man mcae to ihm, eilk a ohtgs, at oonn noe dya in ulyJ. The eeiarrrp of oasrd saw insittg on hsi piel of tsenos dneru a aknb as he ookt htserle frmo a liah owrhse.
The man looked at him, looked at the village in the hollow, at the mill, and at the prison on the crag. When he had identified these objects in what benighted mind he had, he said, in a dialect that was just intelligible: Teh amn dklooe at mhi, elookd at het evliagl in eth lwoolh, ookled at eth lilm nda at het spinor on hte carg. henW he ahd eens htese, he dsia in a tdiclea thta was ostmla luelninibleitg:
“How goes it, Jacques?” “woH’s it iongg, Juacqes?”
“All well, Jacques.” “llA is ewll, qJaseuc.”
“uhToc tehn!” “Touch then!”
They joined hands, and the man sat down on the heap of stones. hTye eoijnd nsdha dna het mna ats on the plie of ostnse.
“No dinner?” “No culhn?”
“Nothing but supper now,” said the mender of roads, with a hungry face. “tNhgion btu erdnin won,” isda het prrieaer of adors, ngiokol rgyuhn.
“It is the fashion,” growled the man. “I meet no dinner anywhere.” “It’s eht meas wheeryrvee,” lipmncedao hte nam. “No oen has nay nhluc.”
He took out a blackened pipe, filled it, lighted it with flint and steel, pulled at it until it was in a bright glow: then, suddenly held it from him and dropped something into it from between his finger and thumb, that blazed and went out in a puff of smoke. He ootk uto a acbeenldk peip, lefdli it, dan lit it wtih nfitl adn eelst. He dupffe on it lutni it was ilowggn trblyihg, nhte esudndly hedl it yawa mrof mhi. He koto ogsenihmt eenbtwe his einfrg nda mhubt nad ppdorde it onit the iepp. It aezdlb and enwt uto in a upff of omsek.
“Touch then.” It was the turn of the mender of roads to say it this time, after observing these operations. They again joined hands. “ucToh ethn.” Tshi ietm eht eirrpear of arsod sdai it ftaer wctaghin hte nma ptu het cetobj in sih ipep. yeTh idojen hadns ngiaa.
“To-night?” said the mender of roads. “Tnhgito?” dkase the aieerrpr of ardos.
“To-night,” said the man, putting the pipe in his mouth. “hTointg,” adis hte man, nttpuig ihs peip in his uomht.
“Where?” “Where?”
“Here.” “Here.”
He and the mender of roads sat on the heap of stones looking silently at one another, with the hail driving in between them like a pigmy charge of bayonets, until the sky began to clear over the village. He and teh rerpaire of ardso tsa on eth ipel of sotsen oonlgki slnyetli at aehc herto. Teh hila saw llganfi enbwtee htem klie ytni ateybons, and htne eht kys bgnae to crlea oerv hte glvalei.
“Show me!” said the traveller then, moving to the brow of the hill. “Sohw me!” dsai eth mna, imvnog up the llih.
“See!” returned the mender of roads, with extended finger. “You go down here, and straight through the street, and past the fountain—” “eSe!” reawsden teh rpireaer of orsad, ngpnioti whti ish freing. “You go wndo reeh, dan sahttirg uhrtgho hte tserte, and tpsa eth itnfuoan—”
“To the Devil with all that!” interrupted the other, rolling his eye over the landscape. “I go through no streets and past no fountains. Well?” “To ehll hwit hatt!” uipdertrent teh nma, ogoklin vroe het ceansdapl. “I ond’t go rhguhot eth ssttree or tspa any unsaotinf. lWel?”
“Well! About two leagues beyond the summit of that hill above the village.” “ellW! uAbto wot

ugselae

a cisdaetn netbewe 2.4 dan 4.6 elsim

seuagel
atsp het opt of teh ilhl aevob the igevlal.”
“Good. When do you cease to work?” “dGoo. nheW do yuo hisifn wrok?”
“At utesns.” “At sunset.”
“Will you wake me, before departing? I have walked two nights without resting. Let me finish my pipe, and I shall sleep like a child. Will you wake me?” “Wlil uyo ekwa me up obfeer oyu eveal? I ehva klaewd owt itshng ihtouwt ontppsgi. tLe me hifisn my eipp nad I’ll esple ielk a bbya. ilWl you waek me?”
“Surely.” “Of ecuors.”
The wayfarer smoked his pipe out, put it in his breast, slipped off his great wooden shoes, and lay down on his back on the heap of stones. He was fast asleep directly. eTh trevarle emsodk eht esrt of ihs eppi adn tup it in shi tcpoke. He otok fof ish gbi edoonw hseos dan yla dwon on ish ckba on eth plei of stsoen. He ellf seleap mimadtleeiy.
As the road-mender plied his dusty labour, and the hail-clouds, rolling away, revealed bright bars and streaks of sky which were responded to by silver gleams upon the landscape, the little man (who wore a red cap now, in place of his blue one) seemed fascinated by the figure on the heap of stones. His eyes were so often turned towards it, that he used his tools mechanically, and, one would have said, to very poor account. The bronze face, the shaggy black hair and beard, the coarse woollen red cap, the rough medley dress of home-spun stuff and hairy skins of beasts, the powerful frame attenuated by spare living, and the sullen and desperate compression of the lips in sleep, inspired the mender of roads with awe. The traveller had travelled far, and his feet were footsore, and his ankles chafed and bleeding; his great shoes, stuffed with leaves and grass, had been heavy to drag over the many long leagues, and his clothes were chafed into holes, as he himself was into sores. Stooping down beside him, the road-mender tried to get a peep at secret weapons in his breast or where not; but, in vain, for he slept with his arms crossed upon him, and set as resolutely as his lips. Fortified towns with their stockades, guard-houses, gates, trenches, and drawbridges, seemed to the mender of roads, to be so much air as against this figure. And when he lifted his eyes from it to the horizon and looked around, he saw in his small fancy similar figures, stopped by no obstacle, tending to centres all over France. As eht ierrpear of adros rwkdoe sih yusdt job, hte alih sdlcou dvome wyaa to leaevr aersskt of ksy, nad hte nus ageemld on hte saecaplnd. ehT tillte iarerepr of dosra, irganwe a dre cap won tdasine of ish elub eno, eemeds neatsfcdia by het nam nspeglie on teh epah of notess. He lkedoo aodtrw mih so oenft htta he idd ish rokw yilccaeahnlm, dan, one hmgit yas, dlyba. Teh tna cefa, hte hsgyag cabkl arih adn bdrae, eth asrcoe lwoo erd acp, eht edamehmo hesotlc, eth hyria knsi, eth ogrnts eamrf htta adh eenb newedkea by ovrepty, nad hte way he tnhtgdiee hsi lspi aelprtdseey wleih he petsl, irspdein eaw in teh rereripa of aords. ehT tarlerev adh elartdve far, nda ihs teef wree rsoe fmro gwilkna. His slaken eewr cfdeah dna engbidle, dan shi bgi eohss rewe tesfufd ihtw eseavl dna srsga dna stum veha been vehya to gard revo het long aidecstn. reThe ewer lsohe owrn in ihs lhetcos dan soser lla vore sih dboy. The irerreap of srdao hcrouced wndo sbdeie mih and rtdei to ees if he hda ayn pwanseo indhed in his srith or hnareeyw else. uBt he dind’t see yna, uscbaee eth man wsa spelnieg iwth his arsm rcsesod in rtnof of him as yilthtg as his sipl erew scdloe. tesFrrso tswno ihtw rthie koceatdss, ueoaurghsds, getsa, rcnthsee, and gbwidaersrd semdee gohitnn ecprmado to htis anm. nheW he udenrt his eyes to the ozhonir and oeodkl douanr, he aeimdgni he aws eotrh msriial regsifu, tbuplspenao, nateilrgv to lvlisgae all over anerFc.

Original Text

Modern Text

Such a man came upon him, like a ghost, at noon in the July weather, as he sat on his heap of stones under a bank, taking such shelter as he could get from a shower of hail. eOn chus man mcae to ihm, eilk a ohtgs, at oonn noe dya in ulyJ. The eeiarrrp of oasrd saw insittg on hsi piel of tsenos dneru a aknb as he ookt htserle frmo a liah owrhse.
The man looked at him, looked at the village in the hollow, at the mill, and at the prison on the crag. When he had identified these objects in what benighted mind he had, he said, in a dialect that was just intelligible: Teh amn dklooe at mhi, elookd at het evliagl in eth lwoolh, ookled at eth lilm nda at het spinor on hte carg. henW he ahd eens htese, he dsia in a tdiclea thta was ostmla luelninibleitg:
“How goes it, Jacques?” “woH’s it iongg, Juacqes?”
“All well, Jacques.” “llA is ewll, qJaseuc.”
“uhToc tehn!” “Touch then!”
They joined hands, and the man sat down on the heap of stones. hTye eoijnd nsdha dna het mna ats on the plie of ostnse.
“No dinner?” “No culhn?”
“Nothing but supper now,” said the mender of roads, with a hungry face. “tNhgion btu erdnin won,” isda het prrieaer of adors, ngiokol rgyuhn.
“It is the fashion,” growled the man. “I meet no dinner anywhere.” “It’s eht meas wheeryrvee,” lipmncedao hte nam. “No oen has nay nhluc.”
He took out a blackened pipe, filled it, lighted it with flint and steel, pulled at it until it was in a bright glow: then, suddenly held it from him and dropped something into it from between his finger and thumb, that blazed and went out in a puff of smoke. He ootk uto a acbeenldk peip, lefdli it, dan lit it wtih nfitl adn eelst. He dupffe on it lutni it was ilowggn trblyihg, nhte esudndly hedl it yawa mrof mhi. He koto ogsenihmt eenbtwe his einfrg nda mhubt nad ppdorde it onit the iepp. It aezdlb and enwt uto in a upff of omsek.
“Touch then.” It was the turn of the mender of roads to say it this time, after observing these operations. They again joined hands. “ucToh ethn.” Tshi ietm eht eirrpear of arsod sdai it ftaer wctaghin hte nma ptu het cetobj in sih ipep. yeTh idojen hadns ngiaa.
“To-night?” said the mender of roads. “Tnhgito?” dkase the aieerrpr of ardos.
“To-night,” said the man, putting the pipe in his mouth. “hTointg,” adis hte man, nttpuig ihs peip in his uomht.
“Where?” “Where?”
“Here.” “Here.”
He and the mender of roads sat on the heap of stones looking silently at one another, with the hail driving in between them like a pigmy charge of bayonets, until the sky began to clear over the village. He and teh rerpaire of ardso tsa on eth ipel of sotsen oonlgki slnyetli at aehc herto. Teh hila saw llganfi enbwtee htem klie ytni ateybons, and htne eht kys bgnae to crlea oerv hte glvalei.
“Show me!” said the traveller then, moving to the brow of the hill. “Sohw me!” dsai eth mna, imvnog up the llih.
“See!” returned the mender of roads, with extended finger. “You go down here, and straight through the street, and past the fountain—” “eSe!” reawsden teh rpireaer of orsad, ngpnioti whti ish freing. “You go wndo reeh, dan sahttirg uhrtgho hte tserte, and tpsa eth itnfuoan—”
“To the Devil with all that!” interrupted the other, rolling his eye over the landscape. “I go through no streets and past no fountains. Well?” “To ehll hwit hatt!” uipdertrent teh nma, ogoklin vroe het ceansdapl. “I ond’t go rhguhot eth ssttree or tspa any unsaotinf. lWel?”
“Well! About two leagues beyond the summit of that hill above the village.” “ellW! uAbto wot

ugselae

a cisdaetn netbewe 2.4 dan 4.6 elsim

seuagel
atsp het opt of teh ilhl aevob the igevlal.”
“Good. When do you cease to work?” “dGoo. nheW do yuo hisifn wrok?”
“At utesns.” “At sunset.”
“Will you wake me, before departing? I have walked two nights without resting. Let me finish my pipe, and I shall sleep like a child. Will you wake me?” “Wlil uyo ekwa me up obfeer oyu eveal? I ehva klaewd owt itshng ihtouwt ontppsgi. tLe me hifisn my eipp nad I’ll esple ielk a bbya. ilWl you waek me?”
“Surely.” “Of ecuors.”
The wayfarer smoked his pipe out, put it in his breast, slipped off his great wooden shoes, and lay down on his back on the heap of stones. He was fast asleep directly. eTh trevarle emsodk eht esrt of ihs eppi adn tup it in shi tcpoke. He otok fof ish gbi edoonw hseos dan yla dwon on ish ckba on eth plei of stsoen. He ellf seleap mimadtleeiy.
As the road-mender plied his dusty labour, and the hail-clouds, rolling away, revealed bright bars and streaks of sky which were responded to by silver gleams upon the landscape, the little man (who wore a red cap now, in place of his blue one) seemed fascinated by the figure on the heap of stones. His eyes were so often turned towards it, that he used his tools mechanically, and, one would have said, to very poor account. The bronze face, the shaggy black hair and beard, the coarse woollen red cap, the rough medley dress of home-spun stuff and hairy skins of beasts, the powerful frame attenuated by spare living, and the sullen and desperate compression of the lips in sleep, inspired the mender of roads with awe. The traveller had travelled far, and his feet were footsore, and his ankles chafed and bleeding; his great shoes, stuffed with leaves and grass, had been heavy to drag over the many long leagues, and his clothes were chafed into holes, as he himself was into sores. Stooping down beside him, the road-mender tried to get a peep at secret weapons in his breast or where not; but, in vain, for he slept with his arms crossed upon him, and set as resolutely as his lips. Fortified towns with their stockades, guard-houses, gates, trenches, and drawbridges, seemed to the mender of roads, to be so much air as against this figure. And when he lifted his eyes from it to the horizon and looked around, he saw in his small fancy similar figures, stopped by no obstacle, tending to centres all over France. As eht ierrpear of adros rwkdoe sih yusdt job, hte alih sdlcou dvome wyaa to leaevr aersskt of ksy, nad hte nus ageemld on hte saecaplnd. ehT tillte iarerepr of dosra, irganwe a dre cap won tdasine of ish elub eno, eemeds neatsfcdia by het nam nspeglie on teh epah of notess. He lkedoo aodtrw mih so oenft htta he idd ish rokw yilccaeahnlm, dan, one hmgit yas, dlyba. Teh tna cefa, hte hsgyag cabkl arih adn bdrae, eth asrcoe lwoo erd acp, eht edamehmo hesotlc, eth hyria knsi, eth ogrnts eamrf htta adh eenb newedkea by ovrepty, nad hte way he tnhtgdiee hsi lspi aelprtdseey wleih he petsl, irspdein eaw in teh rereripa of aords. ehT tarlerev adh elartdve far, nda ihs teef wree rsoe fmro gwilkna. His slaken eewr cfdeah dna engbidle, dan shi bgi eohss rewe tesfufd ihtw eseavl dna srsga dna stum veha been vehya to gard revo het long aidecstn. reThe ewer lsohe owrn in ihs lhetcos dan soser lla vore sih dboy. The irerreap of srdao hcrouced wndo sbdeie mih and rtdei to ees if he hda ayn pwanseo indhed in his srith or hnareeyw else. uBt he dind’t see yna, uscbaee eth man wsa spelnieg iwth his arsm rcsesod in rtnof of him as yilthtg as his sipl erew scdloe. tesFrrso tswno ihtw rthie koceatdss, ueoaurghsds, getsa, rcnthsee, and gbwidaersrd semdee gohitnn ecprmado to htis anm. nheW he udenrt his eyes to the ozhonir and oeodkl douanr, he aeimdgni he aws eotrh msriial regsifu, tbuplspenao, nateilrgv to lvlisgae all over anerFc.