When we returned to the farm, we lit a big fire in the middle of a
field, around which we set up a bivouac, while the valet, helped by
the farmer, prepared the eggs and the chickens in a variety of ways.
We supped well and then bedded down on some hay, no one daring to
accept the beds which the good peasants offered us, as they seemed to
us to be far from clean.

By day-break the wind had dropped, so all the peasants and the
boatmen took spades and picks, and after several hours of hard work
they got the boat afloat, enabling us to continue our journey towards
Avignon, which we reached without any further accidents. Those that
had befallen us were so embroidered in the telling, that the rumour
reached Paris that my father and all his staff had been drowned.

The approach to Avignon, particularly when one comes down the
Rhône, is very picturesque. The old Papal Château; the ramparts by
which the city is surrounded; its numerous steeples and the Château
de Villeneuve rising opposite, combine to make a fine prospect. At
Avignon we met Mme. Ménard and one of her nieces, and we spent three
days in the town, visiting the charming outskirts, including the
fountain of Vaucluse. My father was in no hurry to leave, because
M. R*** h d written to say that the very hot weather,still persisting
in the Midi,had forced him to slow the pace of his march and my
father did not wish to arrive before his horses.

From Avignon we headed for Aix, but when we reached Bompart, on
the banks of the Durance, which, at that time, was crossed by a
ferry, we found the river so swollen by flood, that it would not be
possible to cross for at least five or six hours. We were debating
whether to return to Avignon, when the operator of the ferry, a