[Footnote 2: Alluding to the custom in France of burning bits of candle to denote the time in which the bidding may proceed; usually when the third piece goes out the bidding for the special lot is finished, and the next is proceeded with.]
This last verse was very easy to understand, as the women are always anxious to obtain occupation for a lesser remuneration[1] than the qualified guides, who naturally dislike this interference between them and their earnings, although no bad feeling really exists on the matter.
[Footnote 1: There is a good tale told, à propos of this, of a gentleman in San Francisco who wanted some wood chopped. An American offered to do it for a dollar, but a Chinaman asked only half. The gentleman, thinking it best to help his own countryman, gave the Yankee the job; but happening to pass the yard during the day, he found the Chinaman busily at work. "Hullo!" cried he, "I didn't give the job to you. Who told you to cut this wood?" "Melican man" (American man), responded the pigtailer. "And how much is he paying you?" "Hap dollar," replied the Celestial. And the swell went away resolved never to help his countryman again.]
After an enjoyable kettledrum, the tea being our own and made under personal supervision, Miss Blunt perched herself on a hillock to sketch, and Mr. Sydney explored the neighbourhood for flowers, of which gentians were the principal object of his search. Both having in a certain degree attained their ends, we started again at half-past four, and after a pleasant drive, which lasted two hours instead of three—the time occupied in coming—we reached our quarters in the best of tempers and not with the worst of appetites.
CHAPTER IX.
FROM LUZ AND ST. SAUVEUR TO BAGNÈRES DE LUCHON.
A smiling valley—Lourdes again—The chapel in the crypt—St. Peter's statue—Burnished toes—Solemn quietude—Preparing for the great pilgrimage—"Ornamented" crosses—Mr. Sydney's new vocation, "guide, philosopher, and friend"—Bigorre again—An open-air concert —Harmonious echoes—Paying through the nose—The fête at Payole—Sport à la française—Costumes—The view from the Col d'Aspin— Arreau—Quaint houses—La Chapelle de St. Exupère—A whining "gardien"—Eglise de Notre Dame—The River Neste—Hôtel de France—Bordères—Avajan—Louderville—Oxslips and cowslips—Wild narcissus—Col de Peyresourde—The view—Garin—Cazaux—St. Aventin—Lovely avenues—Our destination.
With a morning as lovely as the day of our arrival had been dreary, we left at 9.15 for Bagnères de Bigorre, the first part of our long drive. The valley, more fully clothed than it was a week ago, looked so fresh in the warm sunlight, with the river winding along, that we felt very loath to leave. The gorge below, all the way to Pierrefitte, added its share of beauty, and the graceful white heath growing up its sides loaded the air with a sweet scent. The wide expanse of the Argelès valley, with the busy farmers ploughing, sowing, or cutting the heavy clover crop; the lazy oxen ever patiently plodding beneath their heavy burdens; the Château de Beaucens—where the orchids grow—perched up on the hillside; the surrounding peaks throwing off their snowy garb; and the beautiful young leaves and tints, everywhere mingling with the brightness of the flowers blooming on the slopes or amid the waving grasses, made a scene as picturesque as it was charming.
Compared with the scenery so far, the remainder of the drive to Lourdes, which we reached in three hours from the time of starting, though full of many pleasant corners in which the river heightened the effect, was nevertheless not so fine; but Lourdes itself looked more attractive than on our former visit. After lunch, while the horses were resting, we drove in a local milord [Footnote: A kind of victoria.] to the church, as we had omitted before to visit the chapel built in the crypt underneath. In the entrance is the fine bronze statue of St Peter clasping the key, similar to the one in Rome both in size and in the highly-burnished appearance of the toes of the right foot, for which latter the affectionate pilgrims are answerable. On either side of the statue a corridor lined with marble tablets—presented by "grateful" individuals in acknowledgment of cures and cleansings—and dotted with confessional boxes, leads down to the chapel. The repulsive gaudiness of the tinsel display in the church above it is almost absent here, and though the same exaltation of the Virgin over our Saviour is manifest, yet otherwise this chapel, with its vaulted roof and its quietude, seems far more fitted for meditation and prayer.
Taking the easy gradient at the west end of the church, between the grassy slopes planted with lilacs and other shrubs and trees, we arrived at the grotto. A huge platform was in course of erection, for the great pilgrimage expected from England in about a week, and the noise of the workmen combined with the sparse gathering of "worshippers" detracted greatly from the former pitiable solemnity of the scene, though the stand of candles was flaring with light, and the crutches, in their horrid rows, were still there.