thing of forty, quite troubled at this roaring table d'hote, whom I
squired and helped to wine, and pledged and tried generally to encourage,
with quite a contrary effect; but the other two, both married, were both
more handsome than the average of women. And Clarisse? What shall I say
of Clarisse? She waited the table with a heavy placable nonchalance,
like a performing cow; her great grey eyes were steeped in amorous
languor; her features, although fleshy, were of an original and accurate
design; her mouth had a curl; her nostril spoke of dainty pride; her
cheek fell into strange and interesting lines. It was a face capable of
strong emotion, and, with training, it offered the promise of delicate
sentiment. It seemed pitiful to see so good a model left to country
admirers and a country way of thought. Beauty should at least have
touched society; then, in a moment, it throws off a weight that lay upon
it, it becomes conscious of itself, it puts on an elegance, learns a gait
and a carriage of the head, and, in a moment, patet dea. Before I left I
assured Clarisse of my hearty admiration. She took it like milk, without
embarrassment or wonder, merely looking at me steadily with her great
eyes; and I own the result upon myself was some confusion. If Clarisse
could read English, I should not dare to add that her figure was unworthy
of her face. Hers was a case for stays; but that may perhaps grow better
as she gets up in years.

Pont de Montvert, or Greenhill Bridge, as we might say at home, is a
place memorable in the story of the Camisards. It was here that the war
broke out; here that those southern Covenanters slew their Archbishop
Sharp. The persecution on the one hand, the febrile enthusiasm on the
other, are almost equally difficult to understand in these quiet modern
days, and with our easy modern beliefs and disbeliefs. The Protestants
were one and all beside their right minds with zeal and sorrow. They
were all prophets and prophetesses. Children at the breast would exhort
their parents to good works. 'A child of fifteen months at Quissac spoke
from its mother's arms, agitated and sobbing, distinctly and with a loud
voice.' Marshal Villars has seen a town where all the women 'seemed
possessed by the devil,' and had trembling fits, and uttered prophecies
publicly upon the streets. A prophetess of Vivarais was hanged at
Montpellier because blood flowed from her eyes and nose, and she declared
that