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Updated: June 16, 2025
M. de Guersaint is about, isn't he?" Marie raised a cry of deep affection. "Ah! my dear father! After all, it's he who'll be most pleased!" Thereupon Pierre had to relate that M. de Guersaint had not returned from his excursion to Gavarnie.
"What a lovely country, monsieur!" exclaimed M. de Guersaint. "I have been wishing to see the Cirque de Gavarnie for thirty years past. But it is some distance away and the trip must be an expensive one, so that I fear I shall not be able to make it." "You are mistaken, monsieur," said the Abbe; "nothing is more easily managed. By making up a party the expense becomes very slight.
M. de Guersaint is about, isn't he?" Marie raised a cry of deep affection. "Ah! my dear father! After all, it's he who'll be most pleased!" Thereupon Pierre had to relate that M. de Guersaint had not returned from his excursion to Gavarnie.
The threatening tones with which it clothes itself suits the free sky, the naked landscape, the powerful heat that environs it; it is alive like a plant; only it is of another age, one more severe and stronger than that in which we vegetate. Gavarnie is a very ordinary village, commanding a view of the amphitheater we are come to see.
"What a lovely country, monsieur!" exclaimed M. de Guersaint. "I have been wishing to see the Cirque de Gavarnie for thirty years past. But it is some distance away and the trip must be an expensive one, so that I fear I shall not be able to make it." "You are mistaken, monsieur," said the Abbe; "nothing is more easily managed. By making up a party the expense becomes very slight.
The Andorrans are a simple, proud, gullible people, who live to-day in the past, of the past and for the past; "Les vallées et souverainetés de l'Andorre" are to them to-day just what they always were a little world of their own. By special arrangement with, and by permission of, the publishers, Henry Holt & Co. From Luz to Gavarnie is eighteen miles.
"What a lovely country, monsieur!" exclaimed M. de Guersaint. "I have been wishing to see the Cirque de Gavarnie for thirty years past. But it is some distance away and the trip must be an expensive one, so that I fear I shall not be able to make it." "You are mistaken, monsieur," said the Abbe; "nothing is more easily managed. By making up a party the expense becomes very slight.
Then he went up-stairs and flung himself on his bed, after taking care to tell the servant to awake him at three o'clock. However, on lying down, the fever that consumed him at first prevented him from closing his eyes. A pair of gloves, forgotten in the next room, had reminded him of M. de Guersaint, who had left for Gavarnie before daybreak, and would only return in the evening.
On one side, a narrow bridle-path winds round the mountain towards Spain; on the other, cottage-farms dot the green slopes; between both, parting the valley, flows the Gave, here a quietly meandering streamlet, whilst before us rises Gavarnie; a scene to which one poet only perhaps the only one capable of grappling with such a subject has done justice
When M. de Guersaint had joined Pierre, who had remained a short distance off, he gave him the following explanation. "My dear fellow," he said, "it's a matter of conscience; I formally promised the coachman who drove us to Gavarnie that I would see his master and tell him the real cause of our delay. You know whom I mean the hairdresser on the Place du Marcadal.
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