It was evening when they descended the lower alps, that bind Rousillon,
and form a majestic barrier round that charming country, leaving it open
only on the east to the Mediterranean. The gay tints of cultivation once
more beautified the landscape; for the lowlands were coloured with the
richest hues, which a luxuriant climate, and an industrious people can
awaken into life. Groves of orange and lemon perfumed the air, their
ripe fruit glowing among the foliage; while, sloping to the plains,
extensive vineyards spread their treasures. Beyond these, woods and
pastures, and mingled towns and hamlets stretched towards the sea, on
whose bright surface gleamed many a distant sail; while, over the whole
scene, was diffused the purple glow of evening. This landscape with the
surrounding alps did, indeed, present a perfect picture of the lovely
and the sublime, of 'beauty sleeping in the lap of horror.'

The travellers, having reached the plains, proceeded, between hedges
of flowering myrtle and pomegranate, to the town of Arles, where
they proposed to rest for the night. They met with simple, but neat
accommodation, and would have passed a happy evening, after the toils
and the delights of this day, had not the approaching separation thrown
a gloom over their spirit. It was St. Aubert's plan to proceed, on the
morrow, to the borders of the Mediterranean, and travel along its shores
into Languedoc; and Valancourt, since he was now nearly recovered, and
had no longer a pretence for continuing with his new friends, resolved
to leave them here. St. Aubert, who was much pleased with him, invited
him to go further, but did not repeat the invitation, and Valancourt
had resolution enough to forego the temptation of accepting it, that
he might prove himself not unworthy of the favour. On the following
morning, therefore, they were to part, St. Aubert to pursue his way to
Languedoc, and Valancourt to explore new scenes among the mountains, on
his return home. During this evening he was often silent and thoughtful;
St. Aubert's manner towards him was affectionate, though grave, and
Emily was serious, though she made frequent efforts to appear cheerful.
After one of the most melancholy evenings they had yet passed together,
they separated for the night.

CHAPTER VI

I care not, Fortune! what you me deny;
You cannot rob me of free nature's grace;
You cannot shut the windows of the sky,
Through which Aurora shews her brightenin