at peaked woody mountain which stands
by itself behind La Napoule in front of the summits of the Esterel; it is
called in the district Snake Mountain. There is where my solitary lived
within the walls of a little antique temple about a dozen years ago.

Having heard about him, I resolved to make his acquaintance, and I set
out for Cannes on horseback one March morning. Leaving my steed at the
inn at La Napoule, I commenced climbing on foot that singular cave, about
one hundred and fifty perhaps, or two hundred meters in height, and
covered with aromatic plants, especially cysti, whose odor is so sharp
and penetrating that it irritates you and causes you discomfort. The soil
is stony, and you can see gliding over the pebbles long adders which
disappear in the grass. Hence this well-deserved appellation of Snake
Mountain. On certain days, the reptiles seem to spring into existence
under your feet when you climb the declivity exposed to the rays of the
sun. They are so numerous that you no longer venture to go on, and
experience a strange sense of uneasiness, not fear, for those creatures
are harmless, but a sort of mysterious terror. I had several times the
peculiar sensation of climbing a sacred mountain of antiquity, a
fantastic hill perfumed and mysterious, covered with cysti and inhabited
by serpents and crowned with a temple.

This temple still exists. They told me, at any rate, that it was a
temple; for I did not seek to know more about it so as not to destroy the
illusion.

So then, one March morning, I climbed up there under the pretext of
admiring the country. On reaching the top, I perceived, in fact, walls
and a man sitting on a stone. He was scarcely more than forty years of
age, though his hair was quite white; but his beard was still almost
black. He was fondling a cat which had cuddled itself upon his knees, and
did not seem to mind me. I took a walk around the ruins, one portion of
which covered over and shut in by means of branches, straw, grass and
stones, was inhabited by him, and I made my way towards the place which
he occupied.

The view here is splendid. On the right is the Esterel with its peaked
summit strangely carved, then the boundless sea stretching as far as the
distant coast of Italy with its numerous capes, facing Cannes, the
Lerins Islands green and flat, which look as if they were floating, and
the last of which shows in the direction of the open sea an old
castellated fortress with b