We were thankful to wash off the dust of the day, and with it half our fatigue, and to hasten down to the _salle à manger_, pleasantly tired with the long hours in the open air, the long stream of strong impressions. And how hungry we were! Impressions seem to need a large amount of sustenance.
I think the waiter must be accustomed to famished visitors returning from Les Baux, for he simply flew as we appeared, dashed the menu down on the table, murmuring, "Tout de suite, Mesdames," and was scurrying back the next minute with two small tureens of smoking soup. Never did soup taste so good or so comforting!
Life indeed has its contrasts! We thought of Les Baux among the abysses of the Alpilles under the shroud of night, with a light or two from the Chevelure d'Or and the few neighbouring houses twinkling mysteriously on the height, and perhaps that strange music stealing into the darkness of the valley--while out on the Crau--
"Si Mesdames désirent du vin blanc ou du vin rouge?"
Thus sharply roused, we make a random choice, (Barbara accused me of having replied "du Crau, s'il vous plait,") and the waiter placed on the table a bottle of good Provençal wine which tasted like distilled sunshine, which indeed it was, just tempered with a breeze from Mont Ventoux.
After the meal we were conducted once more to the parlour, where the same little party was collected, all interested to hear what we thought of Les Baux.
"Oui c'est belle," observed Madame, giving a hitch to her work to bring it more under her fingers, "Voilà une petite excursion ex-cess-ive-ment in-ter-ess-ante."
A desire to laugh became insistent, not at Madame, but at the whole situation. But that was out of the question. Had I been allowed to cry it would have done almost as well, but that would have created still more consternation, so I played up to Madame and said--
"En effet, c'est une excursion la plus charmante que nous avons fait en Provence," and happily no one seemed to see how ridiculous the observation was.
We returned to the subject of St. Remy, of which Madame knew a good deal--learnt, as she told us, from some esteemed and instructive American clients.
Of Nostradamus and the troubadours and the Counts of Provence her information was not exhaustive; though she had some anecdotes and a personal feeling about the Good King René who has made himself loved and remembered by his countrymen for four centuries by his goodness and the quality that we well call charm--recognising in it an element of natural sorcery.