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Updated: May 2, 2025
Nemours is commanded on the Gatinais side by a hill, at the foot of which runs the road to Montargis and the Loing. For buildings, as for men, position does everything. Shaded by a few trees, and thrown into relief by a neatly kept square, this solitary church produces a really grandiose effect.
"Pooh!" returned d'Aiglemont, "these heroic exploits all depend upon the woman in the case, and it certainly was not for one that I know, that poor Arthur came by his death." Between the Seine and the little river Loing lies a wide flat country, skirted on the one side by the Forest of Fontainebleau, and marked out as to its southern limits by the towns of Moret, Montereau, and Nemours.
This functionary like such functionaries in general could give them but slight information but, as far as he knew, there were no German troops on the right bank of the Loing, south of its junction with the Yonne. Beyond the Yonne they were scattered pretty thickly, everywhere. At daybreak the next morning, they started.
He advised them to ford the Yonne between Montereau and its junction with the Loing; to keep to the woods for ten miles, and then to turn to the left, and to cross the Seine at one of the numerous fords there into the Forest of Fontainebleau; and they would then find themselves between that town and Melun, and could ride boldly into Melun, as if they had come from Fontainebleau.
Rain with the resultant cooling of the atmosphere seldom waited long, however, and when the river rose to within a metre of my tent, which I had pitched on the edge of the river bank, I had to abandon it temporarily for the house in which Mr. Demmini and Mr. Loing resided, a little back of the rest of the houses. Besides a kitchen, it contained a large room and a small one, which I appropriated.
Beyond the fine old church of rich grey stone, you obtain as enchanting a view as the valley of the Loing can show, a broad, crystal-clear river winding amid picturesque architecture, richest and most varied foliage, ash and weeping willow mingling with deeper-hued beech and alder. It is difficult, almost impossible, to describe the charm of this riverside scenery.
At the bottom of this irregular amphitheater lie meadow-lands through which flows the Loing, forming sheets of water with many falls. This delightful landscape, which continues the whole way to Montargis, is like an opera scene, for its effects really seem to have been studied. One morning Doctor Minoret, who had been summoned into Burgundy by a rich patient, was returning in all haste to Paris.
It soon became evident that our men, good paddlers as they were, did not know how to overcome these, hesitating and making up for their inefficiency by shouting at the top of their voices. However insignificant the stream, they yelled as if passing a risky place. Mr. Loing had gone in our small prahu with four of our best men to finish the map-making, if possible, before darkness set in.
From a stage higher up a magnificent panorama is obtained, Moret, old and new, set round with the green and the blue, its greenery and bright river, far away its noble aqueduct, further still looking eastward the valley of the Loing spread out as a map, the dark ramparts of Fontainebleau forest half framing the scene. The town itself is a trifle unsavoury and unswept.
"Thank you," said the Doctor warmly, rising at the same time and wiping his brow, for he had suffered agonies while the thing hung in the wind. A refusal, after the scene at noon, would have placed him in a ridiculous light before Anastasie. "How hot and heavy is the evening, to be sure! I have always had a fancy to be a fish in summer, Jean-Marie, here in the Loing beside Gretz.
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