with　a　light　and　dull　sound；　upon　the　sward。　　The　noise　was　as　of　a
  thin　fall　of　great　hailstones；　but　there　went　with　it　a　cheerful
  human　sentiment　of　an　approaching　harvest　and　farmers　rejoicing　in
  their　gains。　　Looking　up；　I　could　see　the　brown　nut　peering　through
  the　husk；　which　was　already　gaping；　and　between　the　stems　the　eye
  embraced　an　amphitheatre　of　hill；　sunlit　and　green　with　leaves。
  I　have　not　often　enjoyed　a　place　more　deeply。　　I　moved　in　an
  atmosphere　of　pleasure；　and　felt　light　and　quiet　and　content。　　But
  perhaps　it　was　not　the　place　alone　that　so　disposed　my　spirit。
  Perhaps　some　one　was　thinking　of　me　in　another　country；　or　perhaps
  some　thought　of　my　own　had　come　and　gone　unnoticed；　and　yet　done　me
  good。　　For　some　thoughts；　which　sure　would　be　the　most　beautiful；
  vanish　before　we　can　rightly　scan　their　features；　as　though　a　god；
  travelling　by　our　green　highways；　should　but　ope　the　door；　give　one
  smiling　look　into　the　house；　and　go　again　for　ever。　　Was　it　Apollo；
  or　Mercury；　or　Love　with　folded　wings？　　Who　shall　say？　　But　we　go
  the　lighter　about　our　business；　and　feel　peace　and　pleasure　in　our
  hearts。
  I　dined　with　a　pair　of　Catholics。　　They　agreed　in　the　condemnation
  of　a　young　man；　a　Catholic；　who　had　married　a　Protestant　girl　and
  gone　over　to　the　religion　of　his　wife。　　A　Protestant　born　they
  could　understand　and　respect；　indeed；　they　seemed　to　be　of　the　mind
  of　an　old　Catholic　woman；　who　told　me　that　same　day　there　was　no
  difference　between　the　two　sects；　save　that　'wrong　was　more　wrong
  for　the　Catholic；'　who　had　more　light　and　guidance；　but　this　of　a
  man's　desertion　filled　them　with　contempt。
  'It　is　a　bad　idea　for　a　man　to　change；'　said　one。
  It　may　have　been　accidental；　but　you　see　how　this　phrase　pursued
  me；　and　for　myself；　I　believe　it　is　the　current　philosophy　in　these
  parts。　　I　have　some　difficulty　in　imagining　a　better。　　It's　not
  only　a　great　flight　of　confidence　for　a　man　to　change　his　creed　and
  go　out　of　his　family　for　heaven's　sake；　but　the　odds　are　…　nay；　and
  the　hope　is　…　that；　with　all　this　great　transition　in　the　eyes　of
  man；　he　has　not　changed　himself　a　hairbreadth　to　the　eyes　of　God。
  Honour　to　those　who　do　so；　for　the　wrench　is　sore。　　But　it　argues
  something　narrow；　whether　of　strength　or　weakness；　whether　of　the
  prophet　or　the　fool；　in　those　who　can　take　a　sufficient　interest　in
  such　infinitesimal　and　human　operations；　or　who　can　quit　a
  friendship　for　a　doubtful　process　of　the　mind。　　And　I　think　I
  should　not　leave　my　old　creed　for　another；　changing　only　words　for
  other　words；　but　by　some　brave　reading；　embrace　it　in　spirit　and
  truth；　and　find　wrong　as　wrong　for　me　as　for　the　best　of　other
  communions
  The　phylloxera　was　in　the　neighbourhood；　and　instead　of　wine　we
  drank　at　dinner　a　more　economical　juice　of　the　grape　…　La
  Parisienne；　they　call　it。　　It　is　made　by　putting　the　fruit　whole
  into　a　cask　with　water；　one　by　one　the　berries　ferment　and　burst；
  what　is　drunk　during　the　day　is　supplied　at　night　in　water：　　so；
  with　ever　another　pitcher　from　the　well；　and　ever　another　grape
  exploding　and　giving　out　its　strength；　one　cask　of　Parisienne　may
  last　a　family　till　spring。　　It　is；　as　the　reader　will　anticipate；　a
  feeble　beverage；　but　very　pleasant　to　the　taste。
  What　with　dinner　and　coffee；　it　was　long　past　three　before　I　left
  St。　Germain　de　Calberte。　　I　went　down　beside　the　Gardon　of　Mialet；
  a　great　glaring　watercourse　devoid　of　water；　and　through　St。
  Etienne　de　Vallee　Francaise；　or　Val　Francesque；　as　they　used　to
  call　it；　and　towards　evening　began　to　ascend　the　hill　of　St。
  Pierre。　　It　was　a　long　and　steep　ascent。　　Behind　me　an　empty
  carriage　returning　to　St。　Jean　du　Gard　kept　hard　upon　my　tracks；
  and　near　the　summit　overtook　me。　　The　driver；　like　the　rest　of　the
  world；　was　sure　I　was　a　pedlar；　but；　unlike　others；　he　was　sure　of
  what　I　had　to　sell。　　He　had　noticed　the　blue　wool　which　hung　out　of
  my　pack　at　either　end；　and　from　this　he　had　decided；　beyond　my
  power　to　alter　his　decision；　that　I　dealt　in　blue…wool　collars；
  such　as　decorate　the　neck　of　the　French　draught…horse。
  I　had　hurried　to　the　topmost　powers　of　Modestine；　for　I　dearly
  desired　to　see　the　view　upon　the　other　side　before　the　day　had
  faded。　　But　it　was　night　when　I　reached　the　summit；　the　moon　was
  riding　high　and　clear；　and　only　a　few　grey　streaks　of　twilight
  lingered　in　the　west。　　A　yawning　valley；　gulfed　in　blackness；　lay
  like　a　hole　in　created　nature　at　my　feet；　but　the　outline　of　the
  hills　was　sharp　against　the　sky。　　There　was　Mount　Aigoal；　the
  stronghold　of　Castanet。　　And　Castanet；　not　only　as　an　active
  undertaking　leader；　deserves　some　mention　among　Camisards；　for
  there　is　a　spray　of　rose　among　his　laurel；　and　he　showed　how；　even
  in　a　public　tragedy；　love　will　have　its　way。　　In　the　high　tide　of
  war　he　married；　in　his　mountain　citadel；　a　young　and　pretty　lass
  called　Mariette。　　There　were　great　rejoicings；　and　the　bridegroom
  released　five…and…twenty　prisoners　in　honour　of　the　glad　event。
  Seven　months　afterwards；　Mariette；　the　Princess　of　the　Cevennes；　as
  they　called　her　in　derision；　fell　into　the　hands　of　the
  authorities；　where　it　was　like　to　have　gone　hard　with　her。　　But
  Castanet　was　a　man　of　execution；　and　loved　his　wife。　　He　fell　on
  Valleraugue；　and　got　a　lady　there　for　a　hostage；　and　for　the　first
  and　last　time　in　that　war　there　was　an　exchange　of　prisoners。
  Their　daughter；　pledge　of　some　starry　night　upon　Mount　Aigoal；　has
  left　descendants　to　this　day。
  Modestine　and　I　…　it　was　our　last　meal　together　…　had　a　snack　upon
  the　top　of　St。　Pierre；　I　on　a　heap　of　stones；　she　standing　by　me　in
  the　moonlight　and　decorously　eating　bread　out　of　my　hand。　　The　poor
  brute　would　eat　more　heartily　in　this　manner；　for　she　had　a　sort　of
  affection　for　me；　which　I　was　soon　to　betray。
  It　was　a　long　descent　upon　St。　Jean　du　Gard；　and　we　met　no　one　but
  a　carter；　visible　afar　off　by　the　glint　of　the　moon　on　his
  extinguished　lantern。
  Before　ten　o'clock　we　had　got　in　and　were　at　supper；　fifteen　miles
  and　a　stiff　hill　in　little　beyond　six　hours！
  FAREWELL；　MODESTINE！
  ON　examination；　on　the　morning　of　October　3rd；　Modestine　was
  pronounced　unfit　for　travel。　　She　would　need　at　least　two　days'
  repose；　according　to　the　ostler；　but　I　was　now　eager　to　reach　Alais
  for　my　letters；　and；　being　in　a　civilised　country　of　stage…coaches；
  I　determined　to　sell　my　lady　friend　and　be　off　by　the　diligence
  that　afternoon。　　Our　yesterday's　march；　with　the　testimony　of　the
  driver　who　had　pursued　us　up　the　long　hill　of　St。　Pierre；　spread　a
  favourable　notion　of　my　donkey's　capabilities。　　Intending
  purchasers　were　aware　of　an　unrivalled　opportunity。　　Before　ten　I
  had　an　offer　of　twenty…five　francs；　and　before　noon；　after　a
  desperate　engagement；　I　sold　her；　saddle　and　all；　for　five…and…
  thirty。　　The　pecuniary　gain　is　not　obvious；　but　I　had　bought
  freedom　into　the　bargain。
  St　Jean　du　Gard　is　a　large　place；　and　largely　Protestant。　　The
  maire；　a　Protestant；　asked　me　to　help　him　in　a　small　matter　which
  is　itself　characteristic　of　the　country。　　The　young　women　of　the
  Cevennes　profit　by　the　common　religion　and　the　difference　of　the
  language　to　go　largely　as　governesses　into　England；　and　here　was
  one；　a　native　of　Mialet；　struggling　with　English　circulars　from　two
  different　agencies　in　London。　　I　gave　what　help　I　could；　and
  volunteered　some　advice；　which　struck　me　as　being　excellent。
  One　thing　more　I　note。　　The　phylloxera　has　ravaged　the　vineyards　in
  this　neighbourhood；　and　in　the　early　morning；　under　some　chestnuts
  by　the　river；　I　found　a　party　of　men　working　with　a　cider…press。　　I
  could　not　at　first　make　out　what　they　were　after；　and　asked　one
  fellow　to　explain。
  'Making　cider；'　he　said。　　'OUI；　C'EST　COMME　CA。　　COMME　DANS　LE
  NORD！'
  There　was　a　ring　of　sarcasm　in　his　voice：　　the　country　was　going　to
  the　devil。
  It　was　not　until　I　was　fairly　seated　by　the　driver；　and　rattling
  through　a　rocky　valley　with　dwarf　olives；　that　I　became　aware　of　my
  bereavement。　　I　had　lost　Modestine。　　Up　to　that　moment　I　had
  thought　I　hated　her；　but　now　she　was　gone；
  'And　oh！
  The　difference　to　me！'
  For　twelve　days　we　had　been　fast　companions；　we　had　travelled
  upwards　of　a　hundred　and　twenty　miles；　crossed　several　respectable
  ridges；　and　jogged　along　with　our　six　legs　by　many　a　rocky　and　many
  a　boggy　by…road。　　After　the　first　day；　although　sometimes　I　was
  hurt　and　distant　in　manner；　I　still　kept　my　patience；　and　as　for
  her；　poor　soul！　she　had　come　to　regard　me　as　a　god。　　She　loved　to
  eat　out　of　my　hand。　　She　was　patient；　elegant　in　form；　the　colour
  of　an　ideal　mouse；　and　inimitably　small。　　Her　faults　were　those　of
  her　race　and　sex；　her　virtues　were　her　own。　　Farewell；　and　if　for
  ever　…