The Life of Jean Henri Fabre 



olives soaking in oil ; in that other, Cavaillon melons, 

 some white, some orange, to suit every taste ; and, 

 down there, a jar of anchovies which make you 

 drink hard and so keep your strength up. Lastly, 

 the bottles are cooling in the ice-cold water of the 

 trough over there. Have we forgotten anything? 

 Yes, we have not mentioned the crowning side- 

 dish, the onions, to be eaten raw with salt. Our 

 two Parisians — for we have two among us, my 

 fellow-botanists — are at first a little startled by 

 this very invigorating bill of fare; soon they will be 

 the first to burst into praises. 1 



But we will pass over the remarks made 

 at breakfast and the incidents of the last 

 stage of the climb; we will make direct for 

 the summit of Mont Yentoux, where the 

 leader of the expedition will give us a glimpse 

 of the delights that await the naturalist at 

 the end of his climb when he has taken the 

 precaution to make it at the right moment: 



Would you do some really fruitful botanising? 

 Be there in the first fortnight of July; above all, 

 be ahead of the grazing herds: where the sheep 

 has browsed you will gather none but wretched 

 leavings. While still spared by the hungry flocks, 

 the top of the Ventoux in July is a literal bed of 

 flow T ers; its loose stony surface is studded with 



1 Souvenirs, I., pp. 181-186. The Hunting Wasps, 

 chap, xi., " An Ascent of Mont Ventoux." 



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