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Going from it one leaves European civilisation if such a thing can be said to exist to-day and steps into the unknown. Coming to it through that appalling Gulf of Lyons, beside which the dreaded Bay of Biscay seems like the proverbial duck-pond, Notre Dame de la Garde holds out a welcoming hand, and breathes of fast trains and restaurant cars, and London.
When she had come to her bedroom, she showed the Marquise the mysterious portrait, and asked if she recognised it. "Ah, my God! 'tis himself!" said Madame de Maintenon at once. "He sees, he breathes, he regards us; one might believe one heard him speak. Why do you give yourself this torture?" continued the ambassadress.
I cannot forbear to give another quotation from one of those ancient champions of angling which breathes the same innocent and happy spirit: Let me live harmlessly, and near the brink Of Trent or Avon have a dwelling-place: Where I may see my quill, or cork, down sink With eager bite of Pike, or Bleak, or Dace; And on the world and my Creator think: Whilst some men strive ill-gotten goods t' embrace: And others spend their time in base excess Of wine, or worse, in war or wantonness.
They did not allow that he borrowed from them, any more than that they borrowed from him. These men of Southern France are born in the land of poetry. It breathes in their native air. It echoes round them in its varied measures. Nay, the rhymes which are its distinguishing features, pervade their daily talk.
Agnostic and Churchman, denier and believer, have split on the same amatory rock. The knowledge breathes no sympathy in the Dop Doctor. He observes the Chaplain's face, dispassionately and yet intently, as in the old Hospital days he might have studied the expression of a monkey or a guinea-pig, or other organism upon which he was experimenting with some new drug.
Under the island of Aetna lies Typhoeus the Titan, in punishment for his share in the rebellion of the giants against Jupiter. Two mountains press down the one his right and the other his left hand while Aetna lies over his head. As Typhoeus moves, the earth shakes; as he breathes, smoke and ashes come up from Aetna.
"The winter is over and gone, The thrush whistles sweet on the spray, The turtle breathes forth her soft moan, The lark mounts on high and warbles away." Now, not one American man, woman, or child in a thousand ever heard or saw an English lark, and how is he, she, or it to sing the last line of the foregoing verse with the spirit and understanding due to an exercise of devotion?
Living in close companionship with Nature, his Muse breathes the spirit and voice of poetry; his excellence lying herein: for when the heart is once divorced from the senses and all sympathy with common things, then poetry has fled, and the love that sings. The most welcome of companions, this plain countryman.
"I remained standing in the tent and listened to your song, Sitta Nefysseh. You sang to your husband of love and happiness sang in sweet words what Djumeil says to his Lubna: `Nature breathes love. The bird in the air sings of love; the spring which bubbles at your feet murmurs of love; the rose that blossoms in the garden sheds love's fragrance all is love and bliss.
Fear, Cousin Wingfield, is the father of cruelty, and mine makes me cruel to you. Living or dead, I know that you will triumph over me at the last, but it is my turn now, and while you breathe, or while one breathes who is dear to you, I will spend my life to bring you and them to shame and misery and death, as I brought your mother, my cousin, though she forced me to it to save myself. Why not?
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