distress, as long as the peasant kept beside us. Her former panting and
shaking had been, I regret to say, a piece of comedy.

My deus ex machina, before he left me, supplied some excellent, if
inhumane, advice; presented me with the switch, which he declared she
would feel more tenderly than my cane; and finally taught me the true cry
or masonic word of donkey-drivers, 'Proot!' All the time, he regarded me
with a comical, incredulous air, which was embarrassing to confront; and
smiled over my donkey-driving, as I might have smiled over his
orthography, or his green tail-coat. But it was not my turn for the
moment.

I was proud of my new lore, and thought I had learned the art to
perfection. And certainly Modestine did wonders for the rest of the fore-
noon, and I had a breathing space to look about me. It was Sabbath; the
mountain-fields were all vacant in the sunshine; and as we came down
through St. Martin de Frugeres, the church was crowded to the door, there
were people kneeling without upon the steps, and the sound of the
priest's chanting came forth out of the dim interior. It gave me a home
feeling on the spot; for I am a countryman of the Sabbath, so to speak,
and all Sabbath observances, like a Scottish accent, strike in me mixed
feelings, grateful and the reverse. It is only a traveller, hurrying by
like a person from another planet, who can rightly enjoy the peace and
beauty of the great ascetic feast. The sight of the resting country does
his spirit good. There is something better than music in the wide
unusual silence; and it disposes him to amiable thoughts, like the sound
of a little river or the warmth of sunlight.

In this pleasant humour I came down the hill to where Goudet stands in a
green end of a valley, with Chateau Beaufort opposite upon a rocky steep,