Everybody learns from unhappy experience how sour the bread is throughout the Pyrenees, only excepting two or three resorts, and as we were aware of the fact before leaving Pau, we arranged with Monsieur Kern, of the Austrian Bakery, Rue de la Préfecture, to send us a certain amount of bread every day. The first night at Argelès was spent without it, but on the evening of the following day a packet was brought into the drawing-room, where we were assembled, and at the magical word "bread" every eye brightened, and every face relaxed into a smile. Let no one cavil. This was one of the episodes that link Argelès to us with a pleasant charm.
CHAPTER V.
CAUTERETS.
Hotel de la Poste, Pierrefitte—The Gorge—Its majestic beauty—The resemblance to the Llanberis Pass—Mrs. Blunt becomes poetical—Zinc mines—Le Pont de Médiabat—Entering the town—The Rue Richelieu and Hôtel du Parc—Winter's seal upon them still—Thermes des Oeufs—Thermes de César—The Casino and Esplanade des Oeufs—A good dinner and the menu—The start for the Col de Riou—The Grange de la Reine Hortense—The pines—Miss Blunt's "exhortation to the first snow"—The dogs and their gambols—Defeated, but not discouraged—To the Cérizey Cascade—The baths of La Raillère, Petit St. Sauveur, and Le Pré—Cascade du Lutour—The Marcadau gorge—Scenery—Pic de Gaube—At the Cérizey Cascade—The Pont d'Espagne and Lac de Gaube—Pont de Benqués—Lutour Valley—Various excursions up same—The "Pare"—Allées de Gambasque—The Peguère—The "Pagoda" Villa—Promenade du Mamelon Vert—The road's up again—Blows and blasts—The bishop's arrival—Enthusiasm, pomposity, and benedictions—The pilgrims at large—They start on an excursion—The market and Hôtel de Ville—The grocer's opinion—Pyrenean dogs and their treatment—The dog-fancier—Smiles and temper—Bargaining displaced—No dog after all!
A Landau with four horses was ready after lunch, to transport us and our baggage to Cauterets; but having enjoyed Argelès very much, we were none of us particularly glad at the prospect of the change. The road as far as Pierrefitte, lovely as it is at this season of freshness, discloses no other views than those previously described, but when we turned sharply to the right, after passing the Hôtel de la Poste, and began the ascent towards Cauterets, then our eyes had indeed a rich treat. It would require the most dismal of dismal days, with sluicing rain and clouds low down on every beautiful crag and snow-tipped summit, to make anybody born with a soul above his dinner, complain of the grandeur of the gorge, or impugn the unceasing variety of dashing waterfalls, foaming river, freshly-opened leaves, white heather, and bright, flower-decked fields.
The same wild majesty as the Llanberis Pass presents, strikes one here: the enormous crags in threatening attitude far up the heights, the chasms and fissures brightened by a patch of young grass or a small tree, and, nearer the road, the scattered boulders luxuriantly covered with moss and fern, belong to both alike; and, while the bushes of snowy heather, the constant splash of the cascades falling over the rocks in feathery spray, and in the distance the hoary-headed monarchs of the range reaching up towards the sky, make this different from the familiar Welsh scene, it is only a difference that greatly intensifies the beauty and the charm of this Cauterets gorge.
Even Mrs. Blunt, who as a rule prefers the matter-of-fact to the poetical, was lifted out of herself, for she suddenly clutched me by the arm, and pointing in the distance, murmured something about "summits proudly lifting up to the sky," and being quite unused to that kind of thing, it took me some time to recover from the shock.
A little over three miles from Pierrefitte,—where a glimpse at the zinc mines and the wire tram in connection with them can be obtained—the road passes over the bridge of Médiabat, and some yards beyond becomes identical with the old route, which until then lay below us. The new portion (made in 1874) only extends for about two miles, as it does not commence till after the zigzag rise from Pierrefitte leads into the gorge, but the engineering of the whole has been admirably carried out, and the ascent of nearly 1,700 feet in the six miles does not tell severely on the horses. Now in an almost straight line, now by zigzags, we gradually neared the town, the gorge widening at the same time, though the peaks, some covered with trees, some snow-covered, seemed to bar the way completely at no very great distance.
We were quite close before we could really be said to have seen the town, and ere we could form any opinion of it we drove up the Rue Richelieu and found ourselves at the Hôtel du Parc. Monsieur Villeneuve, the jovial and experienced host, and his pleasant spouse, came out to welcome us, and although the hotel had only been open four days, made us as comfortable as they could.
[Illustration: CAUTERETS.]