And if we find but one to whom we can speak out
of our heart freely, with whom we can walk in love and simplicity
without dissimulation, we have no ground of quarrel with the world or
God.

IN THE VALLEY OF THE MIMENTE

On Tuesday, 1st October, we left Florac late in the afternoon, a tired
donkey and tired donkey-driver. A little way up the Tarnon, a covered
bridge of wood introduced us into the valley of the Mimente. Steep rocky
red mountains overhung the stream; great oaks and chestnuts grew upon
the slopes or in stony terraces; here and there was a red field of
millet or a few apple trees studded with red apples; and the road passed
hard by two black hamlets, one with an old castle atop to please the
heart of the tourist.

It was difficult here again to find a spot fit for my encampment. Even
under the oaks and chestnuts the ground had not only a very rapid slope,
but was heaped with loose stones; and where there was no timber the
hills descended to the stream in a red precipice tufted with heather.
The sun had left the highest peak in front of me, and the valley was
full of the lowing sound of herdsmen's horns as they recalled the flocks
into the stable, when I spied a bight of meadow some way below the
roadway in an angle of the river. Thither I descended, and, tying
Modestine provisionally to a tree, proceeded to investigate the
neighbourhood. A grey pearly evening shadow filled the glen; objects at
a little distance grew indistinct and melted bafflingly into each other;
and the darkness was rising steadily like an exhalation. I approached a
great oak which grew in the meadow, hard by the river's brink; when to
my disgust the voices of children fell upon my ear, and I beheld a house
round the angle on the other bank. I had half a mind to pack and be gone
again, but the growing darkness moved me to remain. I had only to make
no noise until the night was fairly come, and trust to the dawn to call
me early in the morning. But it was hard to be annoyed by neighbours in
such a great hotel.

A hollow underneath the oak was my bed. Before I had fed Modestine and
arranged my sack, three stars were already brightly shining, and the
others were beginning dimly to appear. I slipped down to the river,
which looked very black among its rocks, to fill my can; and dined with
a good appetite in the dark, for I scrupled to light a lantern while so
near a house. The moon, which I had seen a pallid crescent all
afterno