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Updated: June 17, 2025
There are seats under the trees by the stone balustrade from which one may look across the roofs of the lower town filling the space beneath. The great gravelly Place des Beaux-Regards that runs from the western side of the church, is terminated at the very edge of the rocky platform, and looking over the stone parapet you see the Vire flowing a hundred feet below.
As we approach the town of Vire, the population has evidently been absorbed into the cloth and paper mills, for, excepting in the morning and the evening, there are very few people abroad; we see scarcely any one, save, at regular intervals on the road, the old cantonniers occupied in their business of making stone-pies, or a village curé at work in his garden; but we notice that the houses are neater and better built than those near Mortain, where grass grows luxuriantly upon them, and the roofs are covered with coloured mosses.
'Where is your mistress, man? I said. 'Where is Mademoiselle de la Vire? Be quick, tell me what you have done with her. His face fell amazingly. 'Where is she? he answered, faltering between surprise and alarm at my sudden onslaught. 'Here, she should be. I left her here not an hour ago. Mon Dieu! Is she not here now? His alarm increased mine tenfold. 'No! I retorted, 'she is not!
Du Mornay took no overt notice of the king's words, however, but proceeded to give me my directions. 'Chize, which you know by name, he said, 'is six leagues from here. Mademoiselle de la Vire is confined in the north-west room, on the first-floor, overlooking the park. More I cannot tell you, except that her woman's name is Fanchette, and that she is to be trusted.
You mus' not comprehend me, Sare, to intend somesing vat persons call ze Telegraph, such like ze Electric Telegraph of Monsieur Morse, a vulgaire sing of ze vire and ze acid. Mon Dieu, non! far more perfect, far more grrand, far more original! Ze acid may burn ze finger, ze vire vill become rrusty, ze isolation subject always to ze atmosphere. Ah, bah! Vat make you in zat event?
Part II The Daughter of Clementine When I left the train at the Melun station, night had already spread its peace over the silent country. The soil, heated through all the long day by a strong sun by a "gros soleil," as the harvesters of the Val de Vire say still exhaled a warm heavy smell. Lush dense odours of grass passed over the level of the fields.
About four miles north of St Lo, the main road drops down into the pleasant little village of Pont Hebert and then passes over the Vire where it flows through a lovely vale.
It was there that, quaffing lemonade the only refreshment allowed because of the fast we witnessed at nightfall a spectacle of which I shall always preserve a lively recollection. At our feet flowed the Vire under its old stone bridge. On the middle of the bridge lay the figure of Shrove Tuesday on a litter of leaves, surrounded by scores of maskers dancing, singing, and carrying torches.
One argument for walking is, that you may leave the high roads at pleasure, and see more of the country and of the people; but the pedestrian has his day's work before him, and must spend the greater part of an August day on the dusty road, in order to reach his destination. There are districts, such as those round Vire and Mortain, which are exceptionally hilly, where he might walk from town to town; but he will not see the country as well, even there, as from the elevated position of a banquette. The finest parts of Normandy are generally in the neighbourhood of towns which the traveller (who has driven to them) can explore on his arrival, without fatigue; chacun
At Saint-Lô the ragged effigy of Shrove Tuesday was followed by his widow, a big burly lout dressed as a woman with a crape veil, who emitted sounds of lamentation and woe in a stentorian voice. After being carried about the streets on a litter attended by a crowd of maskers, the figure was thrown into the River Vire.
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