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Updated: June 17, 2025
The Pont du Gard Aigues-Mortes-Nimes By Henry James By special arrangement with, and by permission of, the publishers, Houghton, Mifflin Co. It was a pleasure to feel one's self in Provence again the land where the silver-gray earth is impregnated with the light of the sky. To celebrate the event, as soon as I arrived at Nimes I engaged a caleche to convey me to the Pont du Gard.
In the lead was a cloaked and hooded figure, so muffled in its covering of silver-gray that Ross had no idea of the form beneath. Silvery-gray no, now that hue was deepening with blue tones, darkening rapidly. By the time the cloaked newcomer had passed the rock which sheltered the Terran the covering was a rich blue which seemed to glow. Behind the leader were a dozen armed men.
The stranger had a pair of keen, dancing eyes, and a long, eloquent, silver-gray face that might have suited a great general, so fine was its command, and yet too narrowly dancing in the eyes, like spiders in a well, disturbing the mirror there.
A shaded lamp stood upon the centre of the table, and threw a circle of light which included the clergyman's silver-gray hair, his books, and a figure by the fireside a handsome woman resplendent in jewels and wearing a low-cut, white evening gown Mary Swinton, the rector's wife.
The malthouses and their cowls, the wharves and the gaily painted sailing barges alongside, the fringe of slanting willows turning the silver-gray sides of their foliage towards the breeze, the island in the middle of the river with bigger willows, the large expanse of sky, the soft clouds distinct in form almost to the far distant horizon, and, looking eastwards, the illimitable distance towards the fens and the sea all this made up a landscape, more suitable perhaps to some persons than rock or waterfall, although no picture had ever been painted of it, and nobody had ever come to see it.
When he had lighted his pipe he looked about. Tangled forest rolled up the hills wherever the stiff, dark pines could find soil in which to grow. Some were charred by fire and the tall rampikes shone silver-gray in the strong light; some were partly uprooted by storms and leaned drunkenly against each other.
She sat, now, idly watching the sun sink in the western sky, behind the far-off hills. She thought, as she noted the sunset, that she had never seen anything more beautiful Amber, and purple, and crimson, and blue, Glittering shades of every hue. Fleecy cloudlets of silver-gray, And shroud-like white, for the dying day.
And over the thousands of silver-gray cow seals, the sea-catches, the lords of the harem, three or four times the size of their mates, stood watch and ward unceasingly. "Why do you herd them so close together?" asked Colin. "I should have thought there was lots of room on the beaches of the island." "They herd themselves," the agent said. "Don't go anywhere unless it is crowded.
Then, with a triumphant look lighting his face, he lifted his arms toward his wife. "Sallie!" he called, and fell back on his pillow, lifeless. The crocuses are a-bloom once more. The lilac buds are bursting with the joy of the new spring. A veil of silver-gray floats over Moose Hillock. The idle brook, like a truant boy, dances in the sunshine, singing to itself as it leaps from ledge to pool.
Rightly or wrongly, we attributed the mischief to a certain "silver-gray" that had several times been seen in the neighborhood that autumn. It would take far too much space to relate in detail the plans we laid and put in execution to catch that fox during the next two weeks.
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