old gateway and other mediaeval buildings close by had been brought to such
a sad state of ruin.

'It was you,' she exclaimed, 'who did that--_vous autres anglais!_'

And she looked so resentful for a few moments that I wished I had let the
sleeping dog lie.




IN UPPER PERIGORD.


Leaving Martel, I crossed the valley of the Dordogne, and passed on to
other valleys southward and eastward, as recounted in the story of my
wanderings by 'Southern Waters.' Many months went by, and then one summer
day found me wayfaring again by the Dordogne towards the sea. A little
below the point where I had crossed in search of the Ouysse I came to the
small town of Souillac. This place, although fortified in the Middle Ages,
played a much less important part in the wars of the Quercy than the
neighbouring burgs of Martel and Gourdon. Its interest lies mainly in its
twelfth-century church, and here chiefly in a very remarkable bas-relief of
the Last Judgment. This astonishing work of art is to be found not where
one would expect it to be, namely, in the tympanum of the portal, but in
the interior, against a wall at the west end, over a Gothic arch, whose
transition from the preceding style is marked by a billet-moulding. The
sculpture is in a high degree typical of the uncouth vigour of the period.
The two pillars supporting the arch are so carved as to represent figures
of the damned going down into hell. The artist might have been inspired by