For general interest did the country compare at all with Provence? I wanted to turn my informant from his line of ideas just for the fun of seeing him work back to it, as an intercepted ant or earwig will pursue its chosen path, no matter how many obstacles one may throw in the way. Our tourist doubled and fell into line again almost at once.
Provence? He had been recommended to give it a trial, but so far had seen nothing particular to attract one. Too hot for cycling, and hotels very poor. And, as he said before, there were no churches, let alone cathedrals. Look at the cathedral here, as they had the cheek to call it, perched up on a rock like a Swiss châlet. And what architecture! Baedecker called it Romanesque. He always called things Romanesque when there was nothing else he could decently call them. (This was cheering; a sort of inverted enthusiasm which at least was less depressing than indifference.) Why couldn't they stick to some definite style—Gothic or something? However, he (my neighbour) didn't pretend to know anything about these matters, though he evidently felt that the architects who couldn't bring themselves to settle down decisively into "Gothic or something" had made rather a poor thing of their profession. It seemed to him that there was a baldness about the buildings here. They might be all right, but so they struck him. Rienzi's tower, for instance—not a rag of ornament!
I had begun to suggest an unsatisfied yearning for a few minarets with a trifle of Early Perpendicular work down the sides, when I became aware that for various reasons—Barbara especially—it was wiser to desist.
It was not till our friend had gone next day to court disappointment at the Pont du Gard that we felt the lifting of the curious, leaden atmosphere that he had thrown around him. His presence seemed to stop the heart-beat of the place, nay, one's own heart-beat, till nothing was left but hotels and averages and heights and dates. Mon Dieu! And some day somebody would have to travel with such a being—perhaps for life. Heaven help the other traveller!
However, after all, it was possibly wholesome to have one's hot-headed impressions subjected to the cold light of an Englishman's reason. Our compatriot, with his severely rational way of conducting himself, had doubtless gathered a crop of solid information, which was more than could be said for our methods. I told Barbara that I was going to regard Avignon henceforth from the point of view of its population and height above the sea, and I hunted up facts in guide-books and put her in possession of all available dates from the earliest ages to the present day. She did not seem to me to assimilate them satisfactorily.
RIENZI'S TOWER, AVIGNON.
By E. M. Synge.
The country round Avignon serves to remind one of the fact that it was, in ancient times, a good deal nearer the sea than it is at present. The outlines are like those of a sea-bordering country; such heights as there are have the character of cliffs, or they are level-topped, smoothed-out hills until one reaches the grotesque escarpments of the Alpilles or the wild masses of the Luberon range, once island summits rising from the waters.
Avignon stands majestically on one of these heights, with the Rhone valley spreading wide on every hand.