ripple enough to make a beam tremble. If the stars in the water flash, it
is because the rays are flashed from above. Just below the village there
are rapids, and a faint murmur comes up from them, but it is borne under by
the shrilling of the crickets that have climbed into the osiers and poplars
all along by the water's edge. Now and again there is a great splash in the
middle of the stream, which makes one think that a fish large enough to
swallow some unsuspecting Jonah of Perigord must be there in a playful
mood; but this is merely the effect upon the imagination of a sudden noise
breaking in upon the monotonous sounds of the night which are so much like
silence.

Lured by the freshness of the air and the serene glory of the starlit sky,
I wander off down the valley to a spot where the river, all in turmoil,
washes and wears away the flanks of rocks rising sheer from its bed like a
wall. Looking back, I can see very distinctly the dark mass of the castle
and the church by its side high above me against the sky, and every minute
or so the lightning-flash from a storm far away in the west brightens the
sombre masonry and the rock beneath.

Centuries ago in this light, the rock, the fortress, and its church must
have looked much the same as now. An Englishman, who had campaigned with
the Black Prince, standing where I am--the road was probably a mule track
then---would have seen against the sky the picture that sets me dreaming of
the past. But the quietude of the summer night might have been disturbed
by sounds that are not heard now. It is unlikely that so large a castle,
containing so many men-at-arms and officials as must have been deemed
necessary to its safety and dignity, would at this early hour have been
wrapped in silence more complete than that of the valley. There would
surely have been some people breathing the cool air on the platform of the
keep besides the watchman, some soldiers pacing the _chemin de ronde_,