Beneath
This Picture Was Another, - A Long Row Of Washerwomen,
On Their Knees On The Edge Of The Canal, Pounding
And Wringing The Dirty Linen Of Narbonne, - No Great
Quantity, To Judge By The Costume Of The People.
In-
numerable rusty men, scattered all over the place,
were buying and selling wine, straddling about in
pairs, in groups, with their hands in their pockets, and
packed together at the doors of the cafes.
They were
mostly fat and brown and unshaven; they ground their
teeth as they talked; they were very _meridionaux_.
The only two lions at Narbonne are the cathedral
and the museum, the latter of which is quartered in
the hotel de ville. The cathedral, closely shut in by
houses, and with the west front undergoing repairs, is
singular in two respects. It consists exclusively of a
choir, which is of the end of the thirteenth century
and the beginning of the next, and of great magnifi-
cence. There is absolutely nothing else. This choir,
of extraordinary elevation, forms the whole church. I
sat there a good while; there was no other visitor. I
had taken a great dislike to poor little Narbonne,
which struck me as sordid and overheated, and this
place seemed to extend to me, as in the Middle Ages,
the privilege of sanctuary. It is a very solemn corner.
The other peculiarity of the cathedral is that, exter-
nally, it bristles with battlements, having anciently
formed part of the defences of the _archeveche_, which
is beside it and which connects it with the hotel de
ville.
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