When he returned, his countenance had recovered its usual serenity; he
took Emily's hand, pressed it affectionately, without speaking, and soon
after called to the muleteer, who sat at a little distance, concerning
a road among the mountains towards Rousillon. Michael said, there were
several that way, but he did not know how far they extended, or even
whether they were passable; and St. Aubert, who did not intend to travel
after sun-set, asked what village they could reach about that time. The
muleteer calculated that they could easily reach Mateau, which was in
their present road; but that, if they took a road that sloped more to
the south, towards Rousillon, there was a hamlet, which he thought they
could gain before the evening shut in.
St. Aubert, after some hesitation, determined to take the latter course,
and Michael, having finished his meal, and harnessed his mules, again
set forward, but soon stopped; and St. Aubert saw him doing homage to a
cross, that stood on a rock impending over their way. Having concluded
his devotions, he smacked his whip in the air, and, in spite of the
rough road, and the pain of his poor mules, which he had been lately
lamenting, rattled, in a full gallop, along the edge of a precipice,
which it made the eye dizzy to look down. Emily was terrified almost
to fainting; and St. Aubert, apprehending still greater danger from
suddenly stopping the driver, was compelled to sit quietly, and trust
his fate to the strength and discretion of the mules, who seemed to
possess a greater portion of the latter quality than their master; for
they carried the travellers safely into the valley, and there stopped
upon the brink of the rivulet that watered it.
Leaving the splendour of extensive prospects, they now entered this
narrow valley screened by Rocks on rocks piled, as if by magic spell,
Here scorch'd by lightnings, there with ivy green.
The scene of barrenness was here and there interrupted by the spreading
branches of the larch and cedar, which threw their gloom over the cliff,
or athwart the torrent that rolled in the vale. No living creature
appeared, except the izard, scrambling among the rocks, and often
hanging upon points so dangerous, that fancy shrunk from the view of
them. This was such a scene as SALVATOR would have chosen, had he then
existed, for his canvas; St. Aubert, impressed by the romantic character
of the place, almost expected to see banditti start from behind some
projecting rock, and he kept his hand upon the arms with which he always
travelled. As they advanced, the valley opened; its savage features gradually
softened, and, towards evening, they were among heathy mountains,
stretched in far perspective, along which the solitary sheep-bell was
heard, and the voice of the shepherd calling his wandering flocks to the
nightly fold. His cabin, partly shadowed by the cork-tree and the ilex,
which St. Aubert observed to flourish in higher regions of the air than
any other trees, except the fir, was all the human habitation that yet
appeared. Along the bottom of this valley the most vivid verdure was
spread; and, in the little hollow recesses of the mountains, under the
shade of the oak and chestnut, herds of cattle were grazing. Groups
of them, too, were often seen reposing on the banks of the rivulet, or
laving their sides in the cool stream, and sipping its wave.