gentlemanly sort of person, who owned a charming little castle on the
height some five hundred paces from the river bank, came and begged
my father to rest there until the coaches could be embarked. He
accepted, hoping that it would be for a few hours only; but it
appeared that there had been heavy storms in the Alps, where the
Durance has its source, for the river continued to rise all day, and
we were compelled to accept lodging for the night, which was offered
most cordially by the owner of the castle. The weather being fine we
spent the day walking. It was a break in our travels which I
enjoyed.

The next day, seeing that the flood-water was running even more
rapidly than the evening before, our host, who was a devout
Republican, and who knew the river well enough to judge that we would
not be able to cross for twenty-four hours, hurried off, unknown to
us, to the little town of Cavaillon, which is about two leagues from
Bompart, on the same bank of the river. He had gone to inform all the
"Patriots" of the locality that he had in his house divisional
General Marbot. He then returned to the castle, where, an hour or so
later, we saw the arrival of a cavalcade composed of the keenest
"Patriots" of Cavaillon, who had come to beg my father to accept an
invitation to a banquet, which they offered him in the name of all
the notables of the town, "Always so staunchly Republican."

My father, who found these sort of occasions far from agreeable,
at first refused; but these "Citoyens" were so insistent, saying that
everything had been organised and that the guests had gathered, that
my father gave in and went off to Cavaillon.

The best hotel had been decked with garlands, and was graced by