“To Volvic,” cried Guettard,
“Volcani vicus!”
They seized their staffs again;
Halted at Moulins, only to break a crust
Of bread and cheese, and drink one bottle of wine,
Then hastened on, following the giant trail,
Milestone by milestone, till the scent grew hot;
For now they saw, in the wayside cottages,
The black stone under the jasmine’s clustering stars;
And children, at the half-doors, wondered why