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Updated: June 24, 2025
One evening, though, going on six o'clock, as the caravan scrambled through a violet-hued mastic-grove, where fat quails tumbled about in the grass, drowsy through the heat, Tartarin of Tarascon fancied he heard though afar and very vague, and thinned down by the breeze that wondrous roaring to which he had so often listened by Mitaine's Menagerie at home.
Above, see the slender-flowered fibrils, unceasingly swayed, of the purply amourette, which sheds in profusion its yellowy anthers; the snowy pyramids of the field and water glyceria; the green locks of the barren bromus; the tapered plumes of the agrosits, called wind-ears; violet-hued hopes with which first dreams are crowned, and which stand out on the grey ground of flax where the light radiates round these blossoming herbs.
It opens roguishly one little loop-hole, through which cloud above, cloud below, cloud on this side and on that you see a sweet, violet-hued mountain-dome, lying against a background of brilliant blue sky, just for one heart-beat, and it closes again, gray, sheeted, monotonous. Leaving the valley, and driving along the Jefferson road, you have the mountains under an entirely new aspect.
The farther we go the wider, more bewilderingly vast becomes the horizon: wave upon wave, billow upon billow, now violet-hued, with a tinge of gold; now deep brown, partly veiled with green, or roseate with sunlit clouds the gray monotony of stone and waste is thus varied by the way.
It was a cold, wet camp, but we managed to be fairly comfortable. The sunset was gorgeous. The mass of clouds broke and rolled. There was exquisite golden light on the peaks, and many rose- and violet-hued banks of cloud. Morning found us shrouded in fog. We were late starting. About nine the curtain of gray began to lift and break.
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