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…once, running from the East, into a high-piled, almost Egyptian, sunset, there came a night which it would have been sin to have wasted. It was warm with the breath of summer in advance; moonlit till the shadow of every rounded pebble and pointed cypress wind-break lay solid on that vast flat-floored waste …


This is from “The Bull that Thought” in Debits and Credits.

The story-teller is in the Rhone Delta in southern France on a motor tour, and it is a fine night for seeing what speed his Rolls Royce will do.  M. Voiron, a distinguished elderly Frenchman, encountered at the dinner-table, offers to come as an observer.

When they return elated to the inn, over a bottle of champagne beyond most known sizes, marked black on red, M. Voiron tells of the Bull that Thought, a splendid tale of survival against impossible odds, in which it is the victim who triumphs.