TEN YEARS' ALPINE TRAVEL (1774-84) 145 



dignity to come and tell me so on the public road, he sent one of his 

 pensionnaires, a young scholar who puts all the ink of the place on his 

 fingers and on his coat, so as to prevent any mistake as to his being a 

 student. The young ambassador came, with many bows, to tell me 

 I should be welcome, that it was much regretted M. le Cure was away, 

 but that in his absence M. 1'Abbe would do his best to receive me 

 properly. I got down, therefore, and found M. 1'Abbe on the step of 

 his door. He is a little hump-back who attempts fine language. He 

 conducted me very politely to a rising ground where I wished to make 

 my observations, and gave me his company for the evening. 



* He had read the Voyage Pittoresque [obviously Bordier's little 

 volume published in the previous year] with the greatest satisfaction, 

 and consequently did me the honour to take me for its author. I, as 

 you may imagine, disowned it, and even ventured such light criticisms 

 as I could without disputing the opinion expressed by M. 1'Abbe. 

 "It is true," he said, " that it is not written in that sublime style 

 which, when you have read one page, forces you to read all ; one can 

 read it by fits and starts, but that is just what I like." All the same, 

 M. 1'Abbe is a great reader ; he has poor health, which does not allow 

 him to drink, and books, when he can get them, are his only pleasure. 

 He complained much of the tipsiness and the rough manners of his 

 brethren. We had a specimen that very day. About 10 P.M. we heard 

 a terrible noise : it was a Vicaire, who, having supped two leagues off 

 on the mountains, came to spend the evening with the local Cure. 

 Already almost tipsy, he called for wine, drank three or four glasses, 

 and then went on to continue his round. 



' Next day I resumed my march, in spite of the urgent entreaties 

 of M. 1'Abbe, who wanted to take me to dine with the Cure of Notre 

 Dame de la Gorge, where all the Cures of the neighbourhood were 

 dining. I was so terrified at the idea of this fete that I even went 

 out of my way so as not to pass Notre Dame ! 



' From this point one begins to climb by a path very good for 

 foot-travellers, but very laborious for the mules, which delayed us a 

 little ; but the greatest hindrance was the rain, which began to fall 

 heavily. We, who are prudence itself, did not think it suitable weather 

 for crossing the Bonhomme, and we halted at the highest inhabited 

 chalets we met with. These, which are only occupied at midsummer, 

 are named the chalets of Nant Borrant. At one of them wine is sold, 

 and it calls itself, consequently, a cabaret. We turned our mules to 

 it. Under the eaves was a little girl of the age and height of my dear 

 Albertine, who, when she saw us approach, ran into the house like 

 a mouse into its hole, and shut the door behind her. 



K 



