They seem
like abodes of the beautiful which the soul in its wanderings long ago
visited and now recognizes and loves as the home of a forgotten dream. It
was thus I felt by the fountains of Vaucluse; sadly and with weary steps I
turned away, leaving its loneliness unbroken as before.
We returned over the plain in the wind, under the gloomy sky, passed
L'Isle at dusk, and after walking an hour with a rain following close
behind us stopt at an auberge in Le Thor, where we rested our tired frames
and broke our long day's fasting. We were greeted in the morning with a
dismal rain and wet roads as we began the march. After a time, however, it
poured down in such torrents that we were obliged to take shelter in a
remise by the roadside, where a good woman who addrest us in the
unintelligible Provencal kindled up a blazing fire. On climbing a long
hill when the storm had abated, we experienced a delightful surprise.
Below us lay the broad valley of the Rhone, with its meadows looking fresh
and spring-like after the rain. The clouds were breaking away; clear blue
sky was visible over Avignon, and a belt of sunlight lay warmly along the
mountains of Languedoc.
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