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cliffs。  The sun; which was still far from setting; sent a drift of 

misty gold across the hill…tops; but the valleys were already 

plunged in a profound and quiet shadow。



A very old shepherd; hobbling on a pair of sticks; and wearing a 

black cap of liberty; as if in honour of his nearness to the grave; 

directed me to the road for St。 Germain de Calberte。  There was 

something solemn in the isolation of this infirm and ancient 

creature。  Where he dwelt; how he got upon this high ridge; or how 

he proposed to get down again; were more than I could fancy。  Not 

far off upon my right was the famous Plan de Font Morte; where Poul 

with his Armenian sabre slashed down the Camisards of Seguier。  

This; methought; might be some Rip van Winkle of the war; who had 

lost his comrades; fleeing before Poul; and wandered ever since 

upon the mountains。  It might be news to him that Cavalier had 

surrendered; or Roland had fallen fighting with his back against an 

olive。  And while I was thus working on my fancy; I heard him 

hailing in broken tones; and saw him waving me to come back with 

one of his two sticks。  I had already got some way past him; but; 

leaving Modestine once more; retraced my steps。



Alas; it was a very commonplace affair。  The old gentleman had 

forgot to ask the pedlar what he sold; and wished to remedy this 

neglect。



I told him sternly; 'Nothing。'



'Nothing?' cried he。



I repeated 'Nothing;' and made off。



It's odd to think of; but perhaps I thus became as inexplicable to 

the old man as he had been to me。



The road lay under chestnuts; and though I saw a hamlet or two 

below me in the vale; and many lone houses of the chestnut farmers; 

it was a very solitary march all afternoon; and the evening began 

early underneath the trees。  But I heard the voice of a woman 

singing some sad; old; endless ballad not far off。  It seemed to be 

about love and a BEL AMOUREUX; her handsome sweetheart; and I 

wished I could have taken up the strain and answered her; as I went 

on upon my invisible woodland way; weaving; like Pippa in the poem; 

my own thoughts with hers。  What could I have told her?  Little 

enough; and yet all the heart requires。  How the world gives and 

takes away; and brings sweethearts near only to separate them again 

into distant and strange lands; but to love is the great amulet 

which makes the world a garden; and 'hope; which comes to all;' 

outwears the accidents of life; and reaches with tremulous hand 

beyond the grave and death。  Easy to say:  yea; but also; by God's 

mercy; both easy and grateful to believe!



We struck at last into a wide white high…road carpeted with 

noiseless dust。  The night had come; the moon had been shining for 

a long while upon the opposite mountain; when on turning a corner 

my donkey and I issued ourselves into her light。  I had emptied out 

my brandy at Florac; for I could bear the stuff no longer; and 

replaced it with some generous and scented Volnay; and now I drank 

to the moon's sacred majesty upon the road。  It was but a couple of 

mouthfuls; yet I became thenceforth unconscious of my limbs; and my 

blood flowed with luxury。  Even Modestine was inspired by this 

purified nocturnal sunshine; and bestirred her little hoofs as to a 

livelier measure。  The road wound and descended swiftly among 

masses of chestnuts。  Hot dust rose from our feet and flowed away。  

Our two shadows … mine deformed with the knapsack; hers comically 

bestridden by the pack … now lay before us clearly outlined on the 

road; and now; as we turned a corner; went off into the ghostly 

distance; and sailed along the mountain like clouds。  From time to 

time a warm wind rustled down the valley; and set all the chestnuts 

dangling their bunches of foliage and fruit; the ear was filled 

with whispering music; and the shadows danced in tune。  And next 

moment the breeze had gone by; and in all the valley nothing moved 

except our travelling feet。  On the opposite slope; the monstrous 

ribs and gullies of the mountain were faintly designed in the 

moonshine; and high overhead; in some lone house; there burned one 

lighted window; one square spark of red in the huge field of sad 

nocturnal colouring。



At a certain point; as I went downward; turning many acute angles; 

the moon disappeared behind the hill; and I pursued my way in great 

darkness; until another turning shot me without preparation into 

St。 Germain de Calberte。  The place was asleep and silent; and 

buried in opaque night。  Only from a single open door; some 

lamplight escaped upon the road to show me that I was come among 

men's habitations。  The two last gossips of the evening; still 

talking by a garden wall; directed me to the inn。  The landlady was 

getting her chicks to bed; the fire was already out; and had; not 

without grumbling; to be rekindled; half an hour later; and I must 

have gone supperless to roost。







THE LAST DAY







WHEN I awoke (Thursday; 2nd October); and; hearing a great 

flourishing of cocks and chuckling of contented hens; betook me to 

the window of the clean and comfortable room where I had slept the 

night; I looked forth on a sunshiny morning in a deep vale of 

chestnut gardens。  It was still early; and the cockcrows; and the 

slanting lights; and the long shadows encouraged me to be out and 

look round me。



St。 Germain de Calberte is a great parish nine leagues round about。  

At the period of the wars; and immediately before the devastation; 

it was inhabited by two hundred and seventy…five families; of which 

only nine were Catholic; and it took the CURE seventeen September 

days to go from house to house on horseback for a census。  But the 

place itself; although capital of a canton; is scarce larger than a 

hamlet。  It lies terraced across a steep slope in the midst of 

mighty chestnuts。  The Protestant chapel stands below upon a 

shoulder; in the midst of the town is the quaint old Catholic 

church。



It was here that poor Du Chayla; the Christian martyr; kept his 

library and held a court of missionaries; here he had built his 

tomb; thinking to lie among a grateful population whom he had 

redeemed from error; and hither on the morrow of his death they 

brought the body; pierced with two…and…fifty wounds; to be 

interred。  Clad in his priestly robes; he was laid out in state in 

the church。  The CURE; taking his text from Second Samuel; 

twentieth chapter and twelfth verse; 'And Amasa wallowed in his 

blood in the highway;' preached a rousing sermon; and exhorted his 

brethren to die each at his post; like their unhappy and 

illustrious superior。  In the midst of this eloquence there came a 

breeze that Spirit Seguier was near at hand; and behold! all the 

assembly took to their horses' heels; some east; some west; and the 

CURE himself as far as Alais。



Strange was the position of this little Catholic metropolis; a 

thimbleful of Rome; in such a wild and contrary neighbourhood。  On 

the one hand; the legion of Salomon overlooked it from Cassagnas; 

on the other; it was cut off from assistance by the legion of 

Roland at Mialet。  The CURE; Louvrelenil; although he took a panic 

at the arch…priest's funeral; and so hurriedly decamped to Alais; 

stood well by his isolated pulpit; and thence uttered fulminations 

against the crimes of the Protestants。  Salomon besieged the 

village for an hour and a half; but was beaten back。  The 

militiamen; on guard before the CURE'S door; could be heard; in the 

black hours; singing Protestant psalms and holding friendly talk 

with the insurgents。  And in the morning; although not a shot had 

been fired; there would not be a round of powder in their flasks。  

Where was it gone?  All handed over to the Camisards for a 

consideration。  Untrusty guardians for an isolated priest!



That these continual stirs were once busy in St。 Germain de 

Calberte; the imagination with difficulty receives; all is now so 

quiet; the pulse of human life now beats so low and still in this 

hamlet of the mountains。  Boys followed me a great way off; like a 

timid sort of lion…hunters; and people turned round to have a 

second look; or came out of their houses; as I went by。  My passage 

was the first event; you would have fancied; since the Camisards。  

There was nothing rude or forward in this observation; it was but a 

pleased and wondering scrutiny; like that of oxen or the human 

infant; yet it wearied my spirits; and soon drove me from the 

street。



I took refuge on the terraces; which are here greenly carpeted with 

sward; and tried to imitate with a pencil the inimitable attitudes 

of the chestnuts as they bear up their canopy of leaves。  Ever and 

again a little wind went by; and the nuts dropped all around me; 

with a light and dull sound; upon the sward。  The noise was as of a 

thin fall of great hailstones; but

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