Then we started to talk to each other, in front of the auto.
"Cigarette, mademoiselle?"
"No, thank you.Oh. Yes, would you mind? It's a new experience." I puffed at the dark tobacco conscientiously, and when the man opened his door and stepped out. I followed him.
"This is a luxury," he commented."People who live here never have time to look at the view."
"It' s wonderful."
"You don' t find the sunshine too hot."
"No, I love it. I could live in the sun all the time. Are  you sure I'm not wasting your time, monsieur?"
"Is it wasting time to stand in the sunshine with a pretty girl?"
"Thank you, monsieur."
"Ah' he cried in surprise. "I was sure you would say 'nonsense' or 'flatterer'! I beleived that an Englishwoman could never accept a compliment."
"I am not English, monsieur, I am Scots."
"Ah."
"A much superior race."
"Naturally, mademoiselle."
We laughed together.

A man was standing by my auto when I came out of the diner.A young man of about twenty, fair, suntanned, carrying a rucksack.As I opened the auto door, he spoke."Hi! Traveling alone?" he asked.
"Yes, why?"
"I'd hoped for a lift, but I guess a young lady on her own isn't so hot for the idea."
I turned the ignition key."Don't worry, there'll be other cars along soon with men at the wheel."He stepped back."O.K.Forget it," he said." I'm only going to the nearest village."
I watched him walking alone, limping a bit.I started the car, drove up to him and called through the window.
"Have you hurt  your foot?"
"Only a blister."
I threw open the passenger door."I' ll take you."

To travel desiring Romania may be his real heaven on earth, with a strange look onto Transylvania.Turism shows a tendency developing gradually, since the country abounds in odd natural resources, picturesque environment may open up front of it traveling in front of his eye. I visit this country coloured with wonderful landscapes in all years and I offer my acquaintances, that Transylvania is roamed over inevitable. We spread around the area of the Torockó mountain range recently,which is situated between Aranyos and Maros rivers.The deepening rivers hollowed out more beautiful limestone gorges at more beautiful one into the rock dissolving in the water. Close 250 metres tall, straight, a cliff with a flat surface edges the pass, on which several rock climbers with a different gravitational grade are routes, can be found. There are caves between the rocks. In this area can be found the Torockó -mountain one of his symbols,above the brook spanning rock gate. This tight separate interest, that that the alpine cudweed shortest( 590méter) his incidence place.

I lit the gas under the kettle and accepted the hard exercise of admitting that I too had been quite deflated by the news. It's generalized Thing, of course, I reminded myself. You don't have any particular interest in any man qua man, but it would probably be very nice if every one of them was available. In that generalized sense. I mean, if you even have a mild friendly conversation with a total stranger and you know you'll never see him again in your  entire life,it adds a ... a fillip, if you like, if you know that something could come of it-in theory, that's all. If you know that-in that generalized sense-he's, um, well, eligible.
                  To my horror, I blushed all over.

 

"Yes, mademoiselle?" It was positively the same man. He was carrying a bag of tools. "Can I give you a lift?" The words came out unthinkingly, for want of anything else to say. He waggled a hand in refusal. "Ah, it's not necessary, mademoiselle. "(How does he know I'm a mademoiselle?)"  I'm going to catch an auto. I'm going to Saint-Tropez, mademoiselle. " His shrug indicated that I couldn't possibly be going so far. What an agreeable coincidence, I thought... "Ah. One must be very careful, mademoiselle. You don't know me. "He smiled, and I smiled in return. He shrugged his shoulders and walked round the car to get in."You are very kind , mademoiselle."
"Not at all. " I was aware of the irony of refusing a lift to a stranger and deliberately offering a lift to another. He sat with his bag on his lap and his hands resting on it, silent and relaxed.I found myself self-conscious, nervous of changing gear clumsily. Open country stretched straight ahead...

In fact, I was in love with everything at that moment. The most banal things were a joy to my eyes. A notice proclaiming sortie , the new smell of a foreign country, the bleached and faded blue overalls of workmen, the sharp glaring  outlines of buildings in the sun.  " Anything to declare? " the customs man asked. He had a black mustache and a surly expression.  "Rien que mes espoirs,"  i said gravely. " Nothing but my hopes." His face didn ' t flicker. " Take good care of them, madam, " he muttered. I started my auto and drove carefully out into foreign country. Suddenly I noticed two strange young men...Next time I " ll tell their story.

When the little red auto finally stood on the tarmac at Paris,  I felt like laughing aloud. The fact of being on French soil, of being at last abroad, was delight enough. Since I had a habit of examining my impulses,I suspected that my elation might be partly the result of fatigue, a kind of intoxication of exhaustion.I had driven the little car five hundred miles, mostly through the night, in order to reach the south coast and the airport, and I knew, it was foolish. On the long trip through England I had even put my foot down and watched the speedometer needle flickering round seventy. I was in love with the little auto, absolutely besotted. I would cheerfully have driven nonstop to China. The sun was higher in the sky than it ever rose at home, and this surprised and delighted me. I had never imagined five hundred mer miles of latitude could make such a difference.