; and with the addition of tea tabloids a fine brew of
the cup which cheers sent our mental barometer to fair weather. We were
even admitted to the internal economy of the establishment. In came the
baker with a basket of steaming rolls giving out a delicious odour of
bread fresh from the oven; and with new-churned butter--the last we
tasted for many a long day--we made an ambrosial breakfast. In a few
minutes, madame cloaked and bonneted, came up to wish us bon voyage,
with a hope that we should again visit Narbonne. Nothing is certain in
this world or we should have told her it was a very forlorn hope.

"I have to go to market," she said, "and the sooner I am there the
better my choice of provisions. To-day, too, I have my _diner de noce_,
and must be back early. _Vraiment, c'est une charge!_ Ah! they amused
themselves last night! What headaches to-day, je parie, in spite of the
excellence of the wines. _Enfin! Il faut payer pour ses plaisirs._"

"But, madame, you are perpetual motion. You go to bed late--if you go to
bed at all, which we begin to doubt--and rise up early. This morning you
look as fresh as a rose. Have you the gift of eternal youth?"

Madame was not above a compliment, and smiled her pleasure. "Quant il y
a de la bonne volonte--" she laughed. "There is the whole secret. And
now, au revoir, messieurs. Bon voyage. Portez vous bien. My best wishes
go with you."

"Au revoir, on one condition, madame. That the next time we come you
present us without fail with a pot of Narbonne honey."

Madame uttered a cry, fell back a pace or two, struck her forehead
reproachfully, and disappeared like a flash into the street. Up rattled
the omnibus, absorbing ourselves and our traps. Narbonne was of the
past.

A short journey landed us at an early hour at Perpignan. We had passed
nothing very interesting on the road, for just here the sunny South
seems to have stayed her bountiful hand. The low bare outlines of the
rocky Corbieres were traced, and great stretches of heath where bees
gathered the famous honey we were not permitted to enjoy. Here and there
were immense salt lakes, giving the country a flooded appearance,
bringing fever to the neighbourhood. Once, years ago, passing these
endless lake districts in the night, weird, solemn, mysterious, we
wondered what they could be. One saw nothing but a world under water,
reflecting the stars; occasionally the black outline of some small boat
with the flash of a low