tinued as before. When we went to return this visit, we were shown into a dark room, and had it not been for the uncertain light of a wood fire, we should not have been able to discover Madame M, who was seated in an arm-chair, employed in knitting. Several figures kept flitting about the apartment, probably servants of the house, but we could not make out who or what they were. We were afterwards told that this poor lady had · an enthusiastic love for the English, and had left her melancholy room, for the first time for many years, to visit us.

"During the revolution, this unfortunate woman had one morning been forced out of bed, and carried to the window, to behold the execution of her father and mother before the door of their own house. Was it wonderful that she should ever more hate the light of day, or that Monsieur Mshould weep over us at parting, saying we were happy to be English.

"Poor Madame Aimes was in a flood of tears this morning, and Madeline and the old woman kept wringing their hands, and walking about the room, the old woman drying her

eyes with the cloth with which she had been rubbing the grate, which at every new wipe left a black streak, and made her look ineffably hideous; yet we were too sorry to laugh, and are glad the parting with them is over. Monsieur la B was to return to Aix this very day; he will have a sad heart when he hears we are gone. We have left little presents for his family, and a letter and seal for him. His clerk came to see us last night. My poor master!' he exclaimed; 'he will tear his hair.'

6

Kind, excellent

and her

Monsieur la B we shall keep our promise, and look often on the map he gave us at la belle Provence; but with what feelings we shall look at it, the result of this journey alone can determine. Mrs. Afamily also left Aix this morning; but they are all well, and are able to proceed quickly by post. We must go by slow journeys, however great the risk of delay. All the people we met to-day had a gloomy, disturbed look. It was very affecting to hear papa, when he read prayers to us this morning, imploring the protecting care of Heaven over this unhappy land. He prayed also for dear mamma,

and it seems as if his prayers were answered, for she has borne this day's journey much better than we could have hoped. The poor little baby still cries a great deal-Mary is holding it now, while nurse is arranging our rooms. Our landlord is fat and uncivil, his daughter pretty, but too fine a lady to be of use, and five or six old women have been into our sitting-room to look at us-but no one offers to be of service; they seem not to care whether we go or stay. I need say nothing of the country we have passed to-day; we saw nothing after we left the valley of Aix but fields of stones.

lovely and warm as in June.

veiled only thirty-eight miles.

The weather is

We have tra

245

CHAPTER XIX.

66

Nismes, Saturday night, March 18. "AT six o'clock this morning we left Organ, the weather warm and bright. At Tarascon we crossed the Rhone, on rather a dangerous bridge of boats, and breakfasted at Beaucaire, in a miserable inn, where we could get nothing to eat. The girl who attended us was sour and gloomy; and there was only fish for breakfast. I mention these little things that they may may bring the picture of the inns afterwards to my mind. They expected the Duke d'Angoulême to pass every moment, but he did not arrive while we remained; we were sorry not to have witnessed his reception, but fear it would not be favourable.

At Beaucaire the Rhone divides Provence from Languedoc. What we have seen of the country to-day has disappointed us much; round Beaucaire there is a very extensive plain of olive-trees, which looked dry and dusty. As we advanced we saw large vineyards, and a good deal of wheat, and now and then almond-trees in blossom; but the ground was uniformly flat; no water, except one very small lake, devoid of all beauty: most of the fields were fenced by very large flagstones, set up on edge-and this is Languedoc! I am at a loss to say what should be done to Mrs. Radcliffe-every turn of the wheel seemed but to dispel some bright illusion. Within a few miles of Nismes we saw numberless groups of peasants who were watching for the arrival of their prince; the road was strewed with white lilies, and the young girls had their laps filled with flowers. As we passed, they shouted Vive le Roi!'

Vive les Bourbons!' and we were not silent. Mary and I were quite impatient to get out of the carriage, and papa allowed us to walk part of the way, as we were going but at a snail's pace. We found several bunches of