Thebedwasmade，theroomwasfit，Bypunctualevethestarswerelit；
Theairwasstill，thewaterran；
Noneedtherewasformaidorman，Whenweputup，myassandI，AtGod'sgreencaravanserai。
OLDPLAY。
ACROSSTHEGOULET
THEwindfellduringdinner，andtheskyremainedclear；soitwasunderbetterauspicesthatIloadedModestinebeforethemonasterygate。MyIrishfriendaccompaniedmesofarontheway。Aswecamethroughthewood，therewasPereApollinairehaulinghisbarrow；andhetooquittedhislabourstogowithmeforperhapsahundredyards，holdingmyhandbetweenbothofhisinfrontofhim。
Ipartedfirstfromoneandthenfromtheotherwithunfeignedregret，butyetwiththegleeofthetravellerwhoshakesoffthedustofonestagebeforehurryingforthuponanother。ThenModestineandImountedthecourseoftheAllier，whichhereledusbackintoGevaudantowardsitssourcesintheforestofMercoire。
Itwasbutaninconsiderableburnbeforeweleftitsguidance。
Thence，overahill，ourwaylaythroughanakedplateau，untilwereachedChasseradesatsundown。
Thecompanyintheinnkitchenthatnightwereallmenemployedinsurveyforoneoftheprojectedrailways。Theywereintelligentandconversible，andwedecidedthefutureofFranceoverhotwine，untilthestateoftheclockfrightenedustorest。Therewerefourbedsinthelittleupstairsroom；andwesleptsix。ButIhadabedtomyself，andpersuadedthemtoleavethewindowopen。
'HE，BOURGEOIS；ILESTCINQHEURES!'wasthecrythatwakenedmeinthemorningSaturday，September28th。Theroomwasfullofatransparentdarkness，whichdimlyshowedmetheotherthreebedsandthefivedifferentnightcapsonthepillows。Butoutofthewindowthedawnwasgrowingruddyinalongbeltoverthehill-
tops，anddaywasabouttofloodtheplateau。Thehourwasinspiriting；andthereseemedapromiseofcalmweather，whichwasperfectlyfulfilled。IwassoonunderwaywithModestine。Theroadlayforawhileovertheplateau，andthendescendedthroughaprecipitousvillageintothevalleyoftheChassezac。Thisstreamranamonggreenmeadows，wellhiddenfromtheworldbyitssteepbanks；thebroomwasinflower，andhereandtherewasahamletsendingupitssmoke。
AtlastthepathcrossedtheChassezacuponabridge，and，forsakingthisdeephollow，setitselftocrossthemountainofLaGoulet。ItwoundupthroughLestampesbyuplandfieldsandwoodsofbeechandbirch，andwitheverycornerbroughtmeintoanacquaintancewithsomenewinterest。EveninthegullyoftheChassezacmyearhadbeenstruckbyanoiselikethatofagreatbassbellringingatthedistanceofmanymiles；butthis，asI
continuedtomountanddrawnearertoit，seemedtochangeincharacter，andIfoundatlengththatitcamefromsomeoneleadingflocksafieldtothenoteofaruralhorn。ThenarrowstreetofLestampesstoodfullofsheep，fromwalltowall-blacksheepandwhite，bleatingwithoneaccordlikethebirdsinspring，andeachoneaccompanyinghimselfuponthesheep-bellroundhisneck。Itmadeapatheticconcert，allintreble。Alittlehigher，andI
passedapairofmeninatreewithpruning-hooks，andoneofthemwassingingthemusicofaBOURREE。Stillfurther，andwhenIwasalreadythreadingthebirches，thecrowingofcockscamecheerfullyuptomyears，andalongwiththatthevoiceofaflutediscoursingadeliberateandplaintiveairfromoneoftheuplandvillages。I
picturedtomyselfsomegrizzled，apple-cheeked，countryschoolmasterflutinginhisbitofagardenintheclearautumnsunshine。Allthesebeautifulandinterestingsoundsfilledmyheartwithanunwontedexpectation；anditappearedtomethat，oncepastthisrangewhichIwasmounting，Ishoulddescendintothegardenoftheworld。NorwasIdeceived，forIwasnowdonewithrainsandwindsandableakcountry。Thefirstpartofmyjourneyendedhere；andthiswaslikeaninductionofsweetsoundsintotheotherandmorebeautiful。
ThereareotherdegreesofFEYNESS，asofpunishment，besidesthecapital；andIwasnowledbymygoodspiritsintoanadventurewhichIrelateintheinterestoffuturedonkey-drivers。Theroadzigzaggedsowidelyonthehillside，thatIchoseashortcutbymapandcompass，andstruckthroughthedwarfwoodstocatchtheroadagainuponahigherlevel。ItwasmyoneseriousconflictwithModestine。Shewouldnoneofmyshortcut；sheturnedinmyface；shebacked，shereared；she，whomIhadhithertoimaginedtobedumb，actuallybrayedwithaloudhoarseflourish，likeacockcrowingforthedawn。Ipliedthegoadwithonehand；withtheother，sosteepwastheascent，Ihadtoholdonthepack-saddle。
Half-a-dozentimesshewasnearlyoverbackwardsonthetopofme；
half-a-dozentimes，fromsheerwearinessofspirit，Iwasnearlygivingitup，andleadingherdownagaintofollowtheroad。ButI
tookthethingasawager，andfoughtitthrough。Iwassurprised，asIwentonmywayagain，bywhatappearedtobechillrain-dropsfallingonmyhand，andmorethanoncelookedupinwonderatthecloudlesssky。Butitwasonlysweatwhichcamedroppingfrommybrow。
OverthesummitoftheGoulettherewasnomarkedroad-onlyuprightstonespostedfromspacetospacetoguidethedrovers。
Theturfunderfootwasspringyandwellscented。Ihadnocompanybutalarkortwo，andmetbutonebullock-cartbetweenLestampesandBleymard。InfrontofmeIsawashallowvalley，andbeyondthattherangeoftheLozere，sparselywoodedandwellenoughmodelledintheflanks，butstraightanddullinoutline。Therewasscarceasignofculture；onlyaboutBleymard，thewhitehigh-
roadfromVilleforttoMendetraversedarangeofmeadows，setwithspirypoplars，andsoundingfromsidetosidewiththebellsofflocksandherds。
ANIGHTAMONGTHEPINES
FROMBleymardafterdinner，althoughitwasalreadylate，IsetouttoscaleaportionoftheLozere。Anill-markedstonydrove-roadguidedmeforward；andImetnearlyhalf-a-dozenbullock-cartsdescendingfromthewoods，eachladenwithawholepine-treeforthewinter'sfiring。Atthetopofthewoods，whichdonotclimbveryhighuponthiscoldridge，Istruckleftwardbyapathamongthepines，untilIhitonadellofgreenturf，whereastreamletmadealittlespoutoversomestonestoservemeforawater-tap。
'Inamoresacredorsequesteredbower……nornymphnorfaunushaunted。'Thetreeswerenotold，buttheygrewthicklyroundtheglade:therewasnooutlook，exceptnorth-eastwardupondistanthill-tops，orstraightupwardtothesky；andtheencampmentfeltsecureandprivatelikearoom。BythetimeIhadmademyarrangementsandfedModestine，thedaywasalreadybeginningtodecline。Ibuckledmyselftothekneesintomysackandmadeaheartymeal；andassoonasthesunwentdown，Ipulledmycapovermyeyesandfellasleep。
Nightisadeadmonotonousperiodunderaroof；butintheopenworlditpasseslightly，withitsstarsanddewsandperfumes，andthehoursaremarkedbychangesinthefaceofNature。Whatseemsakindoftemporaldeathtopeoplechokedbetweenwallsandcurtains，isonlyalightandlivingslumbertothemanwhosleepsafield。AllnightlonghecanhearNaturebreathingdeeplyandfreely；evenasshetakesherrest，sheturnsandsmiles；andthereisonestirringhourunknowntothosewhodwellinhouses，whenawakefulinfluencegoesabroadoverthesleepinghemisphere，andalltheoutdoorworldareontheirfeet。Itisthenthatthecockfirstcrows，notthistimetoannouncethedawn，butlikeacheerfulwatchmanspeedingthecourseofnight。Cattleawakeonthemeadows；sheepbreaktheirfastondewyhillsides，andchangetoanewlairamongtheferns；andhouselessmen，whohavelaindownwiththefowls，opentheirdimeyesandbeholdthebeautyofthenight。
Atwhatinaudiblesummons，atwhatgentletouchofNature，areallthesesleepersthusrecalledinthesamehourtolife？Dothestarsraindownaninfluence，ordowesharesomethrillofmotherearthbelowourrestingbodies？Evenshepherdsandoldcountry-
folk，whoarethedeepestreadinthesearcana，havenotaguessastothemeansorpurposeofthisnightlyresurrection。Towardstwointhemorningtheydeclarethethingtakesplace；andneitherknownorinquirefurther。Andatleastitisapleasantincident。Wearedisturbedinourslumberonly，liketheluxuriousMontaigne，'thatwemaythebetterandmoresensiblyrelishit。'Wehaveamomenttolookuponthestars。Andthereisaspecialpleasureforsomemindsinthereflectionthatwesharetheimpulsewithalloutdoorcreaturesinourneighbourhood，thatwehaveescapedoutoftheBastilleofcivilisation，andarebecome，forthetimebeing，amerekindlyanimalandasheepofNature'sflock。
Whenthathourcametomeamongthepines，Iwakenedthirsty。Mytinwasstandingbymehalffullofwater。Iemptieditatadraught；andfeelingbroadawakeafterthisinternalcoldaspersion，satuprighttomakeacigarette。Thestarswereclear，coloured，andjewel-like，butnotfrosty。AfaintsilveryvapourstoodfortheMilkyWay。Allaroundmetheblackfir-pointsstooduprightandstock-still。Bythewhitenessofthepack-saddle，I
couldseeModestinewalkingroundandroundatthelengthofhertether；Icouldhearhersteadilymunchingatthesward；buttherewasnotanothersound，savetheindescribablequiettalkoftherunneloverthestones。Ilaylazilysmokingandstudyingthecolourofthesky，aswecallthevoidofspace，fromwhereitshowedareddishgreybehindthepinestowhereitshowedaglossyblue-blackbetweenthestars。Asiftobemorelikeapedlar，I
wearasilverring。ThisIcouldseefaintlyshiningasIraisedorloweredthecigarette；andateachwhifftheinsideofmyhandwasilluminated，andbecameforasecondthehighestlightinthelandscape。
Afaintwind，morelikeamovingcoolnessthanastreamofair，passeddownthegladefromtimetotime；sothateveninmygreatchambertheairwasbeingrenewedallnightlong。IthoughtwithhorroroftheinnatChasseradesandthecongregatednightcaps；
withhorrorofthenocturnalprowessesofclerksandstudents，ofhottheatresandpass-keysandcloserooms。Ihavenotoftenenjoyedamoreserenepossessionofmyself，norfeltmoreindependentofmaterialaids。Theouterworld，fromwhichwecowerintoourhouses，seemedafterallagentlehabitableplace；andnightafternightaman'sbed，itseemed，waslaidandwaitingforhiminthefields，whereGodkeepsanopenhouse。IthoughtIhadrediscoveredoneofthosetruthswhicharerevealedtosavagesandhidfrompoliticaleconomists:attheleast，Ihaddiscoveredanewpleasureformyself。AndyetevenwhileIwasexultinginmysolitudeIbecameawareofastrangelack。Iwishedacompaniontolienearmeinthestarlight，silentandnotmoving，buteverwithintouch。Forthereisafellowshipmorequieteventhansolitude，andwhich，rightlyunderstood，issolitudemadeperfect。
Andtoliveoutofdoorswiththewomanamanlovesisofalllivesthemostcompleteandfree。
AsIthuslay，betweencontentandlonging，afaintnoisestoletowardsmethroughthepines。Ithought，atfirst，itwasthecrowingofcocksorthebarkingofdogsatsomeverydistantfarm；
butsteadilyandgraduallyittookarticulateshapeinmyears，untilIbecameawarethatapassengerwasgoingbyuponthehigh-
roadinthevalley，andsingingloudlyashewent。Therewasmoreofgood-willthangraceinhisperformance；buthetrolledwithamplelungs；andthesoundofhisvoicetookholduponthehillsideandsettheairshakingintheleafyglens。Ihaveheardpeoplepassingbynightinsleepingcities；someofthemsang；one，I
remember，playedloudlyonthebagpipes。Ihaveheardtherattleofacartorcarriagespringupsuddenlyafterhoursofstillness，andpass，forsomeminutes，withintherangeofmyhearingasIlayabed。Thereisaromanceaboutallwhoareabroadintheblackhours，andwithsomethingofathrillwetrytoguesstheirbusiness。Butheretheromancewasdouble:first，thisgladpassenger，litinternallywithwine，whosentuphisvoiceinmusicthroughthenight；andthenI，ontheotherhand，buckledintomysack，andsmokingaloneinthepine-woodsbetweenfourandfivethousandfeettowardsthestars。
WhenIawokeagainSunday，29thSeptember，manyofthestarshaddisappeared；onlythestrongercompanionsofthenightstillburnedvisiblyoverhead；andawaytowardstheeastIsawafainthazeoflightuponthehorizon，suchashadbeentheMilkyWaywhenIwaslastawake。Daywasathand。Ilitmylantern，andbyitsglow-
wormlightputonmybootsandgaiters；thenIbrokeupsomebreadforModestine，filledmycanatthewater-tap，andlitmyspirit-
lamptoboilmyselfsomechocolate。ThebluedarknesslaylonginthegladewhereIhadsosweetlyslumbered；butsoontherewasabroadstreakoforangemeltingintogoldalongthemountain-topsofVivarais。Asolemngleepossessedmymindatthisgradualandlovelycominginofday。Iheardtherunnelwithdelight；Ilookedroundmeforsomethingbeautifulandunexpected；butthestillblackpine-trees，thehollowglade，themunchingass，remainedunchangedinfigure。Nothinghadalteredbutthelight，andthat，indeed，shedoverallaspiritoflifeandofbreathingpeace，andmovedmetoastrangeexhilaration。
Idrankmywater-chocolate，whichwashotifitwasnotrich，andstrolledhereandthere，andupanddownabouttheglade。WhileI
wasthusdelaying，agushofsteadywind，aslongasaheavysigh，poureddirectoutofthequarterofthemorning。Itwascold，andsetmesneezing。Thetreesnearathandtossedtheirblackplumesinitspassage；andIcouldseethethindistantspiresofpinealongtheedgeofthehillrockslightlytoandfroagainstthegoldeneast。Tenminutesafter，thesunlightspreadatagallopalongthehillside，scatteringshadowsandsparkles，andthedayhadcomecompletely。
Ihastenedtopreparemypack，andtacklethesteepascentthatlaybeforeme；butIhadsomethingonmymind。Itwasonlyafancy；
yetafancywillsometimesbeimportunate。Ihadbeenmosthospitablyreceivedandpunctuallyservedinmygreencaravanserai。
Theroomwasairy，thewaterexcellent，andthedawnhadcalledmetoamoment。Isaynothingofthetapestriesortheinimitableceiling，noryetoftheviewwhichIcommandedfromthewindows；
butIfeltIwasinsomeone'sdebtforallthisliberalentertainment。Andsoitpleasedme，inahalf-laughingway，toleavepiecesofmoneyontheturfasIwentalong，untilIhadleftenoughformynight'slodging。Itrusttheydidnotfalltosomerichandchurlishdrover。
THECOUNTRYOFTHECAMISARDS
Wetravelledintheprintofoldenwars；
Yetallthelandwasgreen；
Andlovewefound，andpeace，Wherefireandwarhadbeen。
Theypassandsmile，thechildrenofthesword-
Nomoretheswordtheywield；
AndO，howdeepthecornAlongthebattlefield!
W。P。BANNATYNE。
THECOUNTRYOFTHECAMISARDS
ACROSSTHELOZERE
THEtrackthatIhadfollowedintheeveningsoondiedout，andI
continuedtofollowoverabaldturfascentarowofstonepillars，suchashadconductedmeacrosstheGoulet。Itwasalreadywarm。
Itiedmyjacketonthepack，andwalkedinmyknittedwaistcoat。
Modestineherselfwasinhighspirits，andbrokeofherownaccord，forthefirsttimeinmyexperience，intoajoltingtrotthatsettheoatsswashinginthepocketofmycoat。Theview，backuponthenorthernGevaudan，extendedwitheverystep；scarceatree，scarceahouse，appeareduponthefieldsofwildhillthatrannorth，east，andwest，allblueandgoldinthehazeandsunlightofthemorning。Amultitudeoflittlebirdskeptsweepingandtwitteringaboutmypath；theyperchedonthestonepillars，theypeckedandstruttedontheturf，andIsawthemcircleinvolleysintheblueair，andshow，fromtimetotime，translucentflickeringwingsbetweenthesunandme。
Almostfromthefirstmomentofmymarch，afaintlargenoise，likeadistantsurf，hadfilledmyears。SometimesIwastemptedtothinkitthevoiceofaneighbouringwaterfall，andsometimesasubjectiveresultoftheutterstillnessofthehill。ButasI
continuedtoadvance，thenoiseincreased，andbecamelikethehissingofanenormoustea-urn，andatthesametimebreathsofcoolairbegantoreachmefromthedirectionofthesummit。AtlengthIunderstood。ItwasblowingstifflyfromthesouthupontheotherslopeoftheLozere，andeverystepthatItookIwasdrawingnearertothewind。
Althoughithadbeenlongdesired，itwasquiteunexpectedlyatlastthatmyeyesroseabovethesummit。Astepthatseemednowaymoredecisivethanmanyotherstepsthathadprecededit-and，'likestoutCortezwhen，witheagleeyes，hestaredonthePacific，'Itookpossession，inmyownname，ofanewquarteroftheworld。Forbehold，insteadofthegrossturframpartIhadbeenmountingforsolong，aviewintothehazyairofheaven，andalandofintricatebluehillsbelowmyfeet。
TheLozereliesnearlyeastandwest，cuttingGevaudanintotwounequalparts；itshighestpoint，thisPicdeFiniels，onwhichI
wasthenstanding，risesupwardsoffivethousandsixhundredfeetabovethesea，andinclearweathercommandsaviewoveralllowerLanguedoctotheMediterraneanSea。Ihavespokenwithpeoplewhoeitherpretendedorbelievedthattheyhadseen，fromthePiedeFiniels，whiteshipssailingbyMontpellierandCette。Behindwastheuplandnortherncountrythroughwhichmywayhadlain，peopledbyadullrace，withoutwood，withoutmuchgrandeurofhill-form，andfamousinthepastforlittlebesidewolves。Butinfrontofme，halfveiledinsunnyhaze，layanewGevaudan，rich，picturesque，illustriousforstirringevents。Speakinglargely，I
wasintheCevennesatMonastier，andduringallmyjourney；butthereisastrictandlocalsenseinwhichonlythisconfusedandshaggycountryatmyfeethasanytitletothename，andinthissensethepeasantryemploytheword。ThesearetheCevenneswithanemphasis:theCevennesoftheCevennes。Inthatundecipherablelabyrinthofhills，awarofbandits，awarofwildbeasts，ragedfortwoyearsbetweentheGrandMonarchwithallhistroopsandmarshalsontheonehand，andafewthousandProtestantmountaineersupontheother。Ahundredandeightyyearsago，theCamisardsheldastationevenontheLozere，whereIstood；theyhadanorganisation，arsenals，amilitaryandreligioushierarchy；
theiraffairswere'thediscourseofeverycoffee-house'inLondon；
Englandsentfleetsintheirsupport；theirleadersprophesiedandmurdered；withcoloursanddrums，andthesingingofoldFrenchpsalms，theirbandssometimesaffronteddaylight，marchedbeforewalledcities，anddispersedthegeneralsoftheking；andsometimesatnight，orinmasquerade，possessedthemselvesofstrongcastles，andavengedtreacheryupontheiralliesandcrueltyupontheirfoes。There，ahundredandeightyyearsago，wasthechivalrousRoland，'CountandLordRoland，generalissimooftheProtestantsinFrance，'grave，silent，imperious，pock-markedex-
dragoon，whomaladyfollowedinhiswanderingsoutoflove。TherewasCavalier，abaker'sapprenticewithageniusforwar，electedbrigadierofCamisardsatseventeen，todieatfifty-fivetheEnglishgovernorofJersey。ThereagainwasCastanet，apartisanleaderinavoluminousperukeandwithatasteforcontroversialdivinity。Strangegenerals，whomovedaparttotakecounselwiththeGodofHosts，andfledorofferedbattle，setsentinelsorsleptinanunguardedcamp，astheSpiritwhisperedtotheirhearts!Andthere，tofollowtheseandotherleaders，wastherankandfileofprophetsanddisciples，bold，patient，indefatigable，hardytorunuponthemountains，cheeringtheirroughlifewithpsalms，eagertofight，eagertopray，listeningdevoutlytotheoraclesofbrain-sickchildren，andmysticallyputtingagrainofwheatamongthepewterballswithwhichtheychargedtheirmuskets。
Ihadtravelledhithertothroughadulldistrict，andinthetrackofnothingmorenotablethanthechild-eatingbeastofGevaudan，theNapoleonBonaparteofwolves。ButnowIwastogodownintothesceneofaromanticchapter-or，better，aromanticfootnoteinthehistoryoftheworld。Whatwasleftofallthisbygonedustandheroism？IwastoldthatProtestantismstillsurvivedinthisheadseatofProtestantresistance；somuchthepriesthimselfhadtoldmeinthemonasteryparlour。ButIhadyettolearnifitwereabaresurvival，oralivelyandgeneroustradition。Again，ifinthenorthernCevennesthepeoplearenarrowinreligiousjudgments，andmorefilledwithzealthancharity，whatwasItolookforinthislandofpersecutionandreprisal-inalandwherethetyrannyoftheChurchproducedtheCamisardrebellion，andtheterroroftheCamisardsthrewtheCatholicpeasantryintolegalisedrevoltupontheotherside，sothatCamisardandFlorentinskulkedforeachother'slivesamongthemountains？
Justonthebrowofthehill，whereIpausedtolookbeforeme，theseriesofstonepillarscameabruptlytoanend；andonlyalittlebelow，asortoftrackappearedandbegantogodownabreak-neckslope，turninglikeacorkscrewasitwent。Itledintoavalleybetweenfallinghills，stubblywithrockslikeareapedfieldofcorn，andflooredfartherdownwithgreenmeadows。Ifollowedthetrackwithprecipitation；thesteepnessoftheslope，thecontinualagileturningofthelineofthedescent，andtheoldunweariedhopeoffindingsomethingnewinanewcountry，allconspiredtolendmewings。Yetalittlelowerandastreambegan，collectingitselftogetheroutofmanyfountains，andsoonmakingagladnoiseamongthehills。Sometimesitwouldcrossthetrackinabitofwaterfall，withapool，inwhichModestinerefreshedherfeet。
Thewholedescentislikeadreamtome，sorapidlywasitaccomplished。Ihadscarcelyleftthesummiterethevalleyhadclosedroundmypath，andthesunbeatuponme，walkinginastagnantlowlandatmosphere。Thetrackbecamearoad，andwentupanddownineasyundulations。Ipassedcabinaftercabin，butallseemeddeserted；andIsawnotahumancreature，norheardanysoundexceptthatofthestream。Iwas，however，inadifferentcountryfromthedaybefore。Thestonyskeletonoftheworldwasherevigorouslydisplayedtosunandair。Theslopesweresteepandchangeful。Oak-treesclungalongthehills，wellgrown，wealthyinleaf，andtouchedbytheautumnwithstrongandluminouscolours。Hereandthereanotherstreamwouldfallinfromtherightortheleft，downagorgeofsnow-whiteandtumultuaryboulders。Theriverinthebottomforitwasrapidlygrowingariver，collectingonallhandsasittrottedonitswayherefoamedawhileindesperaterapids，andtherelayinpoolsofthemostenchantingsea-greenshotwithwaterybrowns。AsfarasI
havegone，Ihaveneverseenariverofsochangefulanddelicateahue；crystalwasnotmoreclear，themeadowswerenotbyhalfsogreen；andateverypoolIsawIfeltathrilloflongingtobeoutofthesehot，dusty，andmaterialgarments，andbathemynakedbodyinthemountainairandwater。AllthetimeasIwentonIneverforgotitwastheSabbath；thestillnesswasaperpetualreminder；
andIheardinspiritthechurch-bellsclamouringalloverEurope，andthepsalmsofathousandchurches。
Atlengthahumansoundstruckuponmyear-acrystrangelymodulatedbetweenpathosandderision；andlookingacrossthevalley，Isawalittleurchinsittinginameadow，withhishandsabouthisknees，anddwarfedtoalmostcomicalsmallnessbythedistance。ButtheroguehadpickedmeoutasIwentdowntheroad，fromoakwoodontooakwood，drivingModestine；andhemademethecomplimentsofthenewcountryinthistremuloushigh-pitchedsalutation。Andasallnoisesarelovelyandnaturalatasufficientdistance，thisalso，comingthroughsomuchcleanhillairandcrossingallthegreenvalley，soundedpleasanttomyear，andseemedathingrustic，liketheoaksortheriver。
Alittleafter，thestreamthatIwasfollowingfellintotheTarnatPontdeMontvertofbloodymemory。
PONTDEMONTVERT
ONEofthefirstthingsIencounteredinPontdeMontvertwas，ifI
rememberrightly，theProtestanttemple；butthiswasbutthetypeofothernovelties。AsubtleatmospheredistinguishesatowninEnglandfromatowninFrance，oreveninScotland。AtCarlisleyoucanseeyouareintheonecountry；atDumfries，thirtymilesaway，youareassurethatyouareintheother。IshouldfinditdifficulttotellinwhatparticularsPontdeMontvertdifferedfromMonastierorLangogne，orevenBleymard；butthedifferenceexisted，andspokeeloquentlytotheeyes。Theplace，withitshouses，itslanes，itsglaringriver-bed，woreanindescribableairoftheSouth。
AllwasSundaybustleinthestreetsandinthepublic-house，asallhadbeenSabbathpeaceamongthemountains。Theremusthavebeennearascoreofusatdinnerbyelevenbeforenoon；andafterIhadeatenanddrunken，andsatwritingupmyjournal，Isupposeasmanymorecamedroppinginoneafteranother，orbytwosandthrees。IncrossingtheLozereIhadnotonlycomeamongnewnaturalfeatures，butmovedintotheterritoryofadifferentrace。
Thesepeople，astheyhurriedlydespatchedtheirviandsinanintricatesword-playofknives，questionedandansweredmewithadegreeofintelligencewhichexcelledallthatIhadmet，exceptamongtherailwayfolkatChasserades。Theyhadopentellingfaces，andwerelivelybothinspeechandmanner。Theynotonlyenteredthoroughlyintothespiritofmylittletrip，butmorethanonedeclared，ifhewererichenough，hewouldliketosetforthonsuchanother。
Evenphysicallytherewasapleasantchange。IhadnotseenaprettywomansinceIleftMonastier，andtherebutone。Nowofthethreewhosatdownwithmetodinner，onewascertainlynotbeautiful-apoortimidthingofforty，quitetroubledatthisroaringTABLED'HOTE，whomIsquiredandhelpedtowine，andpledgedandtriedgenerallytoencourage，withquiteacontraryeffect；buttheothertwo，bothmarried，werebothmorehandsomethantheaverageofwomen。AndClarisse？WhatshallIsayofClarisse？Shewaitedthetablewithaheavyplacablenonchalance，likeaperformingcow；hergreatgreyeyesweresteepedinamorouslanguor；herfeatures，althoughfleshy，wereofanoriginalandaccuratedesign；hermouthhadacurl；hernostrilspokeofdaintypride；hercheekfellintostrangeandinterestinglines。Itwasafacecapableofstrongemotion，and，withtraining，itofferedthepromiseofdelicatesentiment。Itseemedpitifultoseesogoodamodellefttocountryadmirersandacountrywayofthought。
Beautyshouldatleasthavetouchedsociety；then，inamoment，itthrowsoffaweightthatlayuponit，itbecomesconsciousofitself，itputsonanelegance，learnsagaitandacarriageofthehead，and，inamoment，PATETDEA。BeforeIleftIassuredClarisseofmyheartyadmiration。Shetookitlikemilk，withoutembarrassmentorwonder，merelylookingatmesteadilywithhergreateyes；andIowntheresultuponmyselfwassomeconfusion。
IfClarissecouldreadEnglish，Ishouldnotdaretoaddthatherfigurewasunworthyofherface。Herswasacaseforstays；butthatmayperhapsgrowbetterasshegetsupinyears。
PontdeMontvert，orGreenhillBridge，aswemightsayathome，isaplacememorableinthestoryoftheCamisards。Itwasherethatthewarbrokeout；herethatthosesouthernCovenantersslewtheirArchbishopSharp。Thepersecutionontheonehand，thefebrileenthusiasmontheother，arealmostequallydifficulttounderstandinthesequietmoderndays，andwithoureasymodernbeliefsanddisbeliefs。TheProtestantswereoneandallbesidetheirrightmindswithzealandsorrow。Theywereallprophetsandprophetesses。Childrenatthebreastwouldexhorttheirparentstogoodworks。'AchildoffifteenmonthsatQuissacspokefromitsmother'sarms，agitatedandsobbing，distinctlyandwithaloudvoice。'MarshalVillarshasseenatownwhereallthewomen'seemedpossessedbythedevil，'andhadtremblingfits，andutteredpropheciespubliclyuponthestreets。AprophetessofVivaraiswashangedatMoutpellierbecausebloodflowedfromhereyesandnose，andshedeclaredthatshewasweepingtearsofbloodforthemisfortunesoftheProtestants。Anditwasnotonlywomenandchildren。Stalwartdangerousfellows，usedtoswingthesickleortowieldtheforestaxe，werelikewiseshakenwithstrangeparoxysms，andspokeoracleswithsobsandstreamingtears。A
persecutionunsurpassedinviolencehadlastednearascoreofyears，andthiswastheresultuponthepersecuted；hanging，burning，breakingonthewheel，hadbeeninvain；thedragoonshadlefttheirhoof-marksoverallthecountryside；thereweremenrowinginthegalleys，andwomenpiningintheprisonsoftheChurch；andnotathoughtwaschangedintheheartofanyuprightProtestant。
Nowtheheadandforefrontofthepersecution-afterLamoignondeBavile-FrancoisdeLangladeduChaylapronounceCheila，ArchpriestoftheCevennesandInspectorofMissionsinthesamecountry，hadahouseinwhichhesometimesdweltinthetownofPontdeMontvert。Hewasaconscientiousperson，whoseemstohavebeenintendedbynatureforapirate，andnowfifty-five，anagebywhichamanhaslearnedallthemoderationofwhichheiscapable。
AmissionaryinhisyouthinChina，hetheresufferedmartyrdom，wasleftfordead，andonlysuccouredandbroughtbacktolifebythecharityofapariah。Wemustsupposethepariahdevoidofsecond-sight，andnotpurposelymaliciousinthisact。Suchanexperience，itmightbethought，wouldhavecuredamanofthedesiretopersecute；butthehumanspiritisathingstrangelyputtogether；and，havingbeenaChristianmartyr，DuChaylabecameaChristianpersecutor。TheWorkofthePropagationoftheFaithwentroundlyforwardinhishands。HishouseinPontdeMontvertservedhimasaprison。Thereheclosedthehandsofhisprisonersuponlivecoal，andpluckedoutthehairsoftheirbeards，toconvincethemthattheyweredeceivedintheiropinions。AndyethadnothehimselftriedandprovedtheinefficacyofthesecarnalargumentsamongtheBuddhistsinChina？
NotonlywaslifemadeintolerableinLanguedoc，butflightwasrigidlyforbidden。OneMassip，amuleteer，andwellacquaintedwiththemountain-paths，hadalreadyguidedseveraltroopsoffugitivesinsafetytoGeneva；andonhim，withanotherconvoy，consistingmostlyofwomendressedasmen，DuChayla，inanevilhourforhimself，laidhishands。TheSundayfollowing，therewasaconventicleofProtestantsinthewoodsofAltefageuponMountBouges；wheretherestooduponeSeguier-SpiritSeguier，ashiscompanionscalledhim-awool-carder，tall，black-faced，andtoothless，butamanfullofprophecy。Hedeclared，inthenameofGod，thatthetimeforsubmissionhadgoneby，andtheymustbetakethemselvestoarmsforthedeliveranceoftheirbrethrenandthedestructionofthepriests。
Thenextnight，24thJuly1702，asounddisturbedtheInspectorofMissionsashesatinhisprison-houseatPontdeMontvert:thevoicesofmanymenupraisedinpsalmodydrewnearerandnearerthroughthetown。Itwastenatnight；hehadhiscourtabouthim，priests，soldiers，andservants，tothenumberoftwelveorfifteen；andnowdreadingtheinsolenceofaconventiclebelowhisverywindows，heorderedforthhissoldierstoreport。Butthepsalm-singerswerealreadyathisdoor，fiftystrong，ledbytheinspiredSeguier，andbreathingdeath。Totheirsummons，thearchpriestmadeanswerlikeastoutoldpersecutor，andbadehisgarrisonfireuponthemob。OneCamisardfor，accordingtosome，itwasinthisnight'sworkthattheycamebythenamefellatthisdischarge:hiscomradesburstinthedoorwithhatchetsandabeamofwood，overranthelowerstoryofthehouse，setfreetheprisoners，andfindingoneofthemintheVINE，asortofScavenger'sDaughteroftheplaceandperiod，redoubledinfuryagainstDuChayla，andsoughtbyrepeatedassaultstocarrytheupperfloors。Buthe，onhisside，hadgivenabsolutiontohismen，andtheybravelyheldthestaircase。
'ChildrenofGod，'criedtheprophet，'holdyourhands。Letusburnthehouse，withthepriestandthesatellitesofBaal。'
Thefirecaughtreadily。OutofanupperwindowDuChaylaandhismenloweredthemselvesintothegardenbymeansofknottedsheets；
someescapedacrosstheriverunderthebulletsoftheinsurgents；
butthearchpriesthimselffell，brokehisthigh，andcouldonlycrawlintothehedge。Whatwerehisreflectionsasthissecondmartyrdomdrewnear？Apoor，brave，besotted，hatefulman，whohaddonehisdutyresolutelyaccordingtohislightbothintheCevennesandChina。Hefoundatleastonetellingwordtosayinhisdefence；forwhentherooffellinandtheupburstingflamesdiscoveredhisretreat，andtheycameanddraggedhimtothepublicplaceofthetown，ragingandcallinghimdamned-'IfIbedamned，'saidhe，'whyshouldyoualsodamnyourselves？'
Herewasagoodreasonforthelast；butinthecourseofhisinspectorshiphehadgivenmanystrongerwhichalltoldinacontrarydirection；andthesehewasnowtohear。Onebyone，Seguierfirst，theCamisardsdrewnearandstabbedhim。'This，'
theysaid，'isformyfatherbrokenonthewheel。Thisformybrotherinthegalleys。Thatformymotherormysisterimprisonedinyourcursedconvents。'Eachgavehisblowandhisreason；andthenallkneeledandsangpsalmsaroundthebodytillthedawn。
Withthedawn，stillsinging，theydefiledawaytowardsFrugeres，fartheruptheTarn，topursuetheworkofvengeance，leavingDuChayla'sprison-houseinruins，andhisbodypiercedwithtwo-and-
fiftywoundsuponthepublicplace。
'Tisawildnight'swork，withitsaccompanimentofpsalms；anditseemsasifapsalmmustalwayshaveasoundofthreateninginthattownupontheTarn。Butthestorydoesnotend，evensofarasconcernsPontdeMontvert，withthedepartureoftheCamisards。
ThecareerofSeguierwasbriefandbloody。TwomorepriestsandawholefamilyatLadeveze，fromthefathertotheservants，fellbyhishandorbyhisorders；andyethewasbutadayortwoatlarge，andrestrainedallthetimebythepresenceofthesoldiery。
Takenatlengthbyafamoussoldieroffortune，CaptainPoul，heappearedunmovedbeforehisjudges。
'Yourname？'theyasked。
'PierreSeguier。'
'WhyareyoucalledSpirit？'
'BecausetheSpiritoftheLordiswithme。'
'Yourdomicile？'
'Latelyinthedesert，andsooninheaven。'
'Haveyounoremorseforyourcrimes？'
'Ihavecommittednone。MYSOULISLIKEAGARDENFULLOFSHELTER
ANDOFFOUNTAINS。'
AtPontdeMontvert，onthe12thofAugust，hehadhisrighthandstrickenfromhisbody，andwasburnedalive。Andhissoulwaslikeagarden？SoperhapswasthesoulofDuChayla，theChristianmartyr。Andperhapsifyoucouldreadinmysoul，orIcouldreadinyours，ourowncomposuremightseemlittlelesssurprising。
DuChayla'shousestillstands，withanewroof，besideoneofthebridgesofthetown；andifyouarecuriousyoumayseetheterrace-gardenintowhichhedropped。
INTHEVALLEYOFTHETARN
ANEWroadleadsfromPontdeMontverttoFloracbythevalleyoftheTarn；asmoothsandyledge，itrunsabouthalf-waybetweenthesummitofthecliffsandtheriverinthebottomofthevalley；andIwentinandout，asIfollowedit，frombaysofshadowintopromontoriesofafternoonsun。ThiswasapasslikethatofKilliecrankie；adeepturninggullyinthehills，withtheTarnmakingawonderfulhoarseuproarfarbelow，andcraggysummitsstandinginthesunshinehighabove。Athinfringeofash-treesranaboutthehill-tops，likeivyonaruin；butonthelowerslopes，andfarupeveryglen，theSpanishchestnut-treesstoodeachfour-squaretoheavenunderitstentedfoliage。
Somewereplanted，eachonitsownterracenolargerthanabed；some，trustingintheirroots，foundstrengthtogrowandprosperandbestraightandlargeupontherapidslopesofthevalley；others，wheretherewasamargintotheriver，stoodmarshalledinalineandmightylikecedarsofLebanon。Yetevenwheretheygrewmostthicklytheywerenottobethoughtofasawood，butasaherdofstalwartindividuals；andthedomeofeachtreestoodforthseparateandlarge，andasitwerealittlehill，fromamongthedomesofitscompanions。Theygaveforthafaintsweetperfumewhichpervadedtheairoftheafternoon；autumnhadputtintsofgoldandtarnishinthegreen；andthesunsoshonethroughandkindledthebroadfoliage，thateachchestnutwasrelievedagainstanother，notinshadow，butinlight。Ahumblesketcherherelaiddownhispencilindespair。
IwishIcouldconveyanotionofthegrowthofthesenobletrees；
ofhowtheystrikeoutboughsliketheoak，andtrailspraysofdroopingfoliagelikethewillow；ofhowtheystandonuprightflutedcolumnslikethepillarsofachurch；orliketheolive，fromthemostshatteredbolecanputoutsmoothandyouthfulshoots，andbeginanewlifeupontheruinsoftheold。Thustheypartakeofthenatureofmanydifferenttrees；andeventheirpricklytop-knots，seennearathandagainstthesky，haveacertainpalm-likeairthatimpressestheimagination。Buttheirindividuality，althoughcompoundedofsomanyelements，isbutthericherandthemoreoriginal。Andtolookdownuponalevelfilledwiththeseknollsoffoliage，ortoseeaclanofoldunconquerablechestnutscluster'likeherdedelephants'uponthespurofamountain，istorisetohigherthoughtsofthepowersthatareinNature。
BetweenModestine'slaggardhumourandthebeautyofthescene，wemadelittleprogressallthatafternoon；andatlastfindingthesun，althoughstillfarfromsetting，wasalreadybeginningtodesertthenarrowvalleyoftheTarn，Ibegantocastaboutforaplacetocampin。Thiswasnoteasytofind；theterracesweretoonarrow，andtheground，whereitwasunterraced，wasusuallytoosteepforamantolieupon。Ishouldhaveslippedallnight，andawakenedtowardsmorningwithmyfeetormyheadintheriver。
Afterperhapsamile，Isaw，somesixtyfeetabovetheroad，alittleplateaulargeenoughtoholdmysack，andsecurelyparapetedbythetrunkofanagedandenormouschestnut。Thither，withinfinitetrouble，IgoadedandkickedthereluctantModestine，andthereIhastenedtounloadher。Therewasonlyroomformyselfupontheplateau，andIhadtogonearlyashighagainbeforeI
foundsomuchasstanding-roomfortheass。Itwasonaheapofrollingstones，onanartificialterrace，certainlynotfivefeetsquareinall。HereItiedhertoachestnut，andhavinggivenhercornandbreadandmadeapileofchestnut-leaves，ofwhichIfoundhergreedy，Idescendedoncemoretomyownencampment。
Thepositionwasunpleasantlyexposed。Oneortwocartswentbyupontheroad；andaslongasdaylightlastedIconcealedmyself，foralltheworldlikeahuntedCamisard，behindmyfortificationofvastchestnuttrunk；forIwaspassionatelyafraidofdiscoveryandthevisitofjocularpersonsinthenight。Moreover，IsawthatImustbeearlyawake；forthesechestnutgardenshadbeenthesceneofindustrynofurthergonethanonthedaybefore。Theslopewasstrewnwithloppedbranches，andhereandthereagreatpackageofleaveswasproppedagainstatrunk；foreventheleavesareserviceable，andthepeasantsusetheminwinterbywayoffodderfortheiranimals。Ipickedamealinfearandtrembling，halflyingdowntohidemyselffromtheroad；andIdaresayIwasasmuchconcernedasifIhadbeenascoutfromJoani'sbandaboveupontheLozere，orfromSalomon'sacrosstheTarn，intheoldtimesofpsalm-singingandblood。Or，indeed，perhapsmore；fortheCamisardshadaremarkableconfidenceinGod；andatalecomesbackintomymemoryofhowtheCountofGevaudan，ridingwithapartyofdragoonsandanotaryathissaddlebowtoenforcetheoathoffidelityinallthecountryhamlets，enteredavalleyinthewoods，andfoundCavalierandhismenatdinner，gailyseatedonthegrass，andtheirhatscrownedwithbox-treegarlands，whilefifteenwomenwashedtheirlineninthestream。Suchwasafieldfestivalin1703；atthatdateAntonyWatteauwouldbepaintingsimilarsubjects。
Thiswasaverydifferentcampfromthatofthenightbeforeinthecoolandsilentpine-woods。Itwaswarmandevenstiflinginthevalley。Theshrillsongoffrogs，likethetremolonoteofawhistlewithapeainit，rangupfromtheriver-sidebeforethesunwasdown。Inthegrowingdusk，faintrustlingsbegantoruntoandfroamongthefallenleaves；fromtimetotimeafaintchirpingorcheepingnoisewouldfalluponmyear；andfromtimetotimeI
thoughtIcouldseethemovementofsomethingswiftandindistinctbetweenthechestnuts。Aprofusionoflargeantsswarmedupontheground；batswhiskedby，andmosquitoesdronedoverhead。Thelongboughswiththeirbunchesofleaveshungagainsttheskylikegarlands；andthoseimmediatelyaboveandaroundmehadsomewhattheairofatrelliswhichshouldhavebeenwreckedandhalfoverthrowninagaleofwind。
Sleepforalongtimefledmyeyelids；andjustasIwasbeginningtofeelquietstealingovermylimbs，andsettlingdenselyonmymind，anoiseatmyheadstartledmebroadawakeagain，and，Iwillfranklyconfessit，broughtmyheartintomymouth。
Itwassuchanoiseasapersonwouldmakescratchingloudlywithafinger-nail；itcamefromundertheknapsackwhichservedmeforapillow，anditwasthricerepeatedbeforeIhadtimetositupandturnabout。Nothingwastobeseen，nothingmorewastobeheard，butafewofthesemysteriousrustlingsfarandnear，andtheceaselessaccompanimentoftheriverandthefrogs。Ilearnednextdaythatthechestnutgardensareinfestedbyrats；rustling，chirping，andscrapingwereprobablyallduetothese；butthepuzzle，forthemoment，wasinsoluble，andIhadtocomposemyselfforsleep，asbestIcould，inwonderinguncertaintyaboutmyneighbours。
IwaswakenedinthegreyofthemorningMonday，30thSeptember
bythesoundoffoot-stepsnotfaroffuponthestones，andopeningmyeyes，IbeheldapeasantgoingbyamongthechestnutsbyafootpaththatIhadnothithertoobserved。Heturnedhisheadneithertotherightnortotheleft，anddisappearedinafewstridesamongthefoliage。Herewasanescape!Butitwasplainlymorethantimetobemoving。Thepeasantrywereabroad；scarcelessterribletomeinmynondescriptpositionthanthesoldiersofCaptainPoultoanundauntedCamisard。IfedModestinewithwhathasteIcould；butasIwasreturningtomysack，Isawamanandaboycomedownthehillsideinadirectioncrossingmine。Theyunintelligiblyhailedme，andIrepliedwithinarticulatebutcheerfulsounds，andhurriedforwardtogetintomygaiters。
Thepair，whoseemedtobefatherandson，cameslowlyuptotheplateau，andstoodclosebesidemeforsometimeinsilence。Thebedwasopen，andIsawwithregretmyrevolverlyingpatentlydisclosedonthebluewool。Atlast，aftertheyhadlookedmeallover，andthesilencehadgrownlaughablyembarrassing，themandemandedinwhatseemedunfriendlytones:
'Youhaveslepthere？'
'Yes，'saidI。'Asyousee。'
'Why？'heasked。
'Myfaith，'Iansweredlightly，'Iwastired。'