THE VALLON DES FLEURS. 163 



if this was the famous " Flower Valley." I answered 

 in the affirmative. " I see no flowers," he said and 

 retraced his steps with a disappointed look. This 

 traveller was evidently " doing " the Riviera, and con- 

 sidered that this particular sight was not " up to the 

 mark." But how many flowers do you expect to 

 find in a spot which is plundered for six months 

 every year by an army of strangers who pour out 

 daily from a hundred hotels with great baskets 

 that must be filled ? During the six Summer months 

 the natives patronize the place and tear up every flower 

 that has escaped the Winter visitors. The wonder is 

 that anything remains, that Nature even partially repairs 

 such constant loss. Yet there is quite enough, as we 

 shall see, to interest any one who will be interested. 



" I see no flowers ! " that scurrying stranger said. 

 I should think not ! If you have to hurry back to 

 Mrs. So and So's reception, or to dress for table 

 d'hdte or to pack up your goods in time for the 

 41 rapide," you are not likely to see much that is worth 

 seeing in one short scuffle through the Vallon des 

 Fleurs, or any other valley for that matter. 



Yet there are plenty of flowers within a yard of 

 us ; the bank is covered with Draba. You may easily 

 pass the minute crucifer without noticing either the 

 white flower or the flattened pod. Draba flowers, I 

 suppose, thus early in the Spring because it has not 

 strength to stand the Summer sun. Growing on the 

 top of walls and on the roofs of cottages where the 

 roots cannot descend to any depth, it would be dried 

 up later in the year. So. frail and ephemeral as is this 

 little cress, it does not wait for Autumn, or even for the 

 solstice, but flowers and fruits, and fades away in the 



HA 



