Luckily, I had forgotten nothing, and I was able
to demonstrate my knowledge by pointing to the various parts of the
machine with each glib reference I made.
By-and-bye, we came to a place where a grotto was "much recommended";
but swallows, southward bound, do not stop in their flight for
grottos. We darted by, thundered through the humming darkness of
Napoleon's tunnel, and flashed out into a startling landscape, as
sensational as the country of the "Delectable Mountains" in "Pilgrim's
Progress." The cup-like valley was ringed in by mountains of
astonishing shapes; it was nature posing for a picture by John Martin.
In the fields were dotted characteristic Dauphine houses, little elfin
things with overhanging roofs like caps tied under their chins.
Soon, we raced into the main street of tiny Les Echelles, whence, in
the good old days, fair Princess Beatrice of Savoie went away to wed
with the famed Raymond of Provence. We whisked through the village,
and down the valley to St. Laurens du Pont, and the entrance to that
great rift between mountains which leads to the monastery of the
Grande Chartreuse.
As we plunged into the narrow jaws of the superb ravine, a wave of
regret for the Boy swept over me. He and I had talked of this day--the
day we should see the deserted monastery hidden among its mountains;
now it had come, and we were parted.
Pages:
345
346
347
348
349
350
351
352
353
354
355
356
357
358
359
360
361
362
363
364
365
366
367
368
369