rible
uniformity.

I was forty years old. I had obtained my purpose. I was a learned
professor. As I gained in acquirements and reputation, I became more and
more laborious. My health, which had become quite firm, began to yield
under incessant application. I was advised, indeed commanded, by my
physician to take repose and recreation. I came here among the Alps. I
stopped at this very house. The season was fine, the inns were filled
with tourists, and great glee and hilarity prevailed. It was not without
its effect on me. By slow degrees, with returning health, the pulses
of life beat with what seemed an unnatural excitement. The world, as I
opened my eyes on it from the window of the inn, was for the first time
not without its attractions. I quieted myself with the idea, that, once
back with my books, my thoughts would flow in the regular channel; and I
called to mind something the physician had said about the necessity of
my being amused, and so forth, to quiet my conscience, which began to
reproach me for enjoying the small ray of sunlight which shone in on my
spirit.

One day, in a little excursion with two or three gentlemen, I was
attracted by the beauty of a spot away from the travelled road. Leaving
my acquaintances resting under some trees to await my return, I strolled
by a narrow path, across the small valley, till I reached the wished-for
place. You know it already. It is where you beheld erected the Christ
and the Tomb. I was looking around with much admiration, when from the
opposite direction came some strolling Savoyards, with a species
of puppet, or _marionnette_, called by these people _Mademoiselle
Catherina._ Without waiting for my assent, the man stopped, and with
the aid of his wife arranged the machine and set _Catherina_ in motion,
accompanying the dance with a song of his own:--

"Ma commere, quand ja danse,
Mon cotillon, va-t-il bien?
Il va d'ici, il va de la,
Ha, ha, ha!
Ma commere, quand je danse," etc.

I stopped and looked, and was amused. The music was rude, but wild, and
carried with it an _abandon_ of feeling. I avow to you, it stole upon
me, penetrating soul and body. How I wished I could, on the spot, throw
off the coil which surrounded me and wander away with these children of
the road!

While I stood preoccupied and abstracted, I was roused by a low voice
pronouncing something,--I did not hear what,--and, coming to myself, I
saw standing before me, with her tambou