And Certainly Modestine Did Wonders For The Rest Of The Fore-
Noon, And I Had A Breathing Space To Look About Me.
It was Sabbath; the
mountain-fields were all vacant in the sunshine; and as we came down
through St.
Martin de Frugeres, the church was crowded to the door, there
were people kneeling without upon the steps, and the sound of the
priest's chanting came forth out of the dim interior. It gave me a home
feeling on the spot; for I am a countryman of the Sabbath, so to speak,
and all Sabbath observances, like a Scottish accent, strike in me mixed
feelings, grateful and the reverse. It is only a traveller, hurrying by
like a person from another planet, who can rightly enjoy the peace and
beauty of the great ascetic feast. The sight of the resting country does
his spirit good. There is something better than music in the wide
unusual silence; and it disposes him to amiable thoughts, like the sound
of a little river or the warmth of sunlight.
In this pleasant humour I came down the hill to where Goudet stands in a
green end of a valley, with Chateau Beaufort opposite upon a rocky steep,
and the stream, as clear as crystal, lying in a deep pool between them.
Above and below, you may hear it wimpling over the stones, an amiable
stripling of a river, which it seems absurd to call the Loire. On all
sides, Goudet is shut in by mountains; rocky footpaths, practicable at
best for donkeys, join it to the outer world of France; and the men and
women drink and swear, in their green corner, or look up at the snow-clad
peaks in winter from the threshold of their homes, in an isolation, you
would think, like that of Homer's Cyclops.
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