dressed to me by a gentleman at the
inn gives the note of these revelations. It must be said that there was
little in the appearance either of the town or of its population to
suggest the possession of such treasures. Narbonne is a _sale petite
ville_ in all the force of the term, and my first impression on arriving
there was an extreme regret that I had not remained for the night at the
lovely Carcassonne. My journey from that delectable spot lasted a couple
of hours and was performed in darkness--a darkness not so dense,
however, but that I was able to make out, as we passed it, the great
figure of Beziers, whose ancient roofs and towers, clustered on a goodly
hill-top, looked as fantastic as you please. I know not what appearance
Beziers may present by day, but by night it has quite the grand air. On
issuing from the station at Narbonne I found that the only vehicle in
waiting was a kind of bastard tramcar, a thing shaped as if it had been
meant to go upon rails; that is, equipped with small wheels, placed
beneath it, and with a platform at either end, but destined to rattle
over the stones like the most vulgar of omnibuses. To complete the
oddity of this conveyance, it was under the supervision, not of a
conductor, but of a conductress. A fair young woman with a pouch
suspended from her girdle had command of the platform; and as soon as
the car was full she jolted us into the town through clouds of the
thickest dust I ever have swallowed. I have had occasion to speak of
the activity of women in France--of the way they are always in the
ascendant; and here was a signal example of their general utility. The
young lady I have mentioned conveyed her whole company to the wretched
little Hotel de France, where it is to be hoped that some of them found
a lodging. For myself, I was informed that the place was crowded from
cellar to attic, and that its inmates were sleeping three or four in a
room. At Carcassonne I should have had a bad bed, but at Narbonne,
apparently, I was to have no bed at all. I passed an hour or two of flat
suspense while fate settled the question of whether I should go on to
Perpignan, return to Beziers, or still discover a modest couch at
Narbonne. I shall not have suffered in vain, however, if my example
serves to deter other travellers from alighting unannounced at that city
on a Wednesday evening. The retreat to Beziers, not attempted in time,
proved impossible, and I was assured that at Perpignan,