With every step the way grew more glorious. This was an enchanted
land. I could hardly believe that thousands of travellers had seen it
before, and would again. I felt as if I had fallen Sindbad-like, into
a valley undiscovered by man; and, like Sindbad's valley, this
sparkled to my dazzled eyes with countless gems. Not all cold, white
diamonds, like his, but gems of every colour. The rocks through which
our path was cut, glowed with rainbow hues, like different precious
metals blended. This effect struck me at first (in the brilliant
sunshine which alone kept me from being nipped with cold) as puzzling,
but in a moment I had solved the "jewel mystery" of the mountains. The
rocks were of porphyry, and marble, and granite, spangled with mica;
and over all spread in patches a lichen of rose, and green, and
yellow, like chipped rubies and emeralds among gold-filings.

So wild and splendid was the scene, composed and painted by a peerless
Master, that I slackened my pace, reluctant to leave so much splendour
behind; but despite all delaying, we came after a time down to
tree-level. The landscape changed; the diamond spray of miniature
cataracts dashed over high cliffs, among balsamic pine forests; the
sunshine brought out the intense green of moss and fern. We met
porters struggling up the height with luggage on their backs, and fat
women riding depressed mules. It was very mediaeval, and I had the
sensation of having walked into a picture--round the corner of it,
into the best part which you know must be there, though it can't be
seen by outsiders.

It took us an hour and a half to walk the eleven kilometres down to
St. Rhemy, where we lunched well, and drank a sparkling wine of the
country which may have been meretricious, but tasted good. There was a
_douane_, for we had now passed out of Switzerland into Italy, and my
mule-pack was examined with curiosity; but why I should have been
questioned with insistence as to whether I were concealing sausages, I
could not guess, unless a swashbuckling German princeling who married
into our family eight generations ago, was using my eyes for windows
at the time.

I need not have feared that the best of the journey would be over at
St. Rhemy, for the road (which broadened there, and became "navigable"
for motor cars as well as horse-drawn vehicles), wound down still
among stupendous mountains capped with snow, jagged peaks of dark
granite, and purple porphyry which glowed crimso