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Weatward from a town by the Mouths of the Rhône, runs a road so mathematically straight, so barometrically level, that it ranks among the world’s measured miles and motorists use it for records.I had attacked the distance several times, but always with a Mistral blowing, or the unchancy cattle of those parts on the move. But 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. |
This is the opening passage of The Bull that Thought, a story set in the Carmargue in the South of France, bull-fighting country. The story teller is persuaded by his chauffeur to take out his limousine for a speed test on a splendid moonlight night, joined by M. Voiron, a distinguished Frenchman, as an observer. Afterwards they dine sumptuously at an inn, and M. Voiron tells the tale of Apis, the Bull that Thought, a beast of high intelligence and Stalky-like cunning. |
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