Towards the close of day Madame de Menon arrived at a small village
situated among the mountains, where she purposed to pass the night.
The evening was remarkably fine, and the romantic beauty of the
surrounding scenery invited her to walk. She followed the windings of
a stream, which was lost at some distance amongst luxuriant groves of
chesnut. The rich colouring of evening glowed through the dark
foliage, which spreading a pensive gloom around, offered a scene
congenial to the present temper of her mind, and she entered the
shades.
Her thoughts, affected by the surrounding objects, gradually
sunk into a pleasing and complacent melancholy, and she was insensibly
led on. She still followed the course of the stream to where the deep
shades retired, and the scene again opening to day, yielded to her a
view so various and sublime, that she paused in thrilling and
delightful wonder. A group of wild and grotesque rocks rose in a
semicircular form, and their fantastic shapes exhibited Nature in her
most sublime and striking attitudes. Here her vast magnificence
elevated the mind of the beholder to enthusiasm. Fancy caught the
thrilling sensation, and at her touch the towering steeps became
shaded with unreal glooms; the caves more darkly frowned--the
projecting cliffs assumed a more terrific aspect, and the wild
overhanging shrubs waved to the gale in deeper murmurs. The scene
inspired madame with reverential awe, and her thoughts involuntarily
rose, 'from Nature up to Nature's God.' The last dying gleams of day
tinted the rocks and shone upon the waters, which retired through a
rugged channel and were lost afar among the receding cliffs. While she
listened to their distant murmur, a voice of liquid and melodious
sweetness arose from among the rocks; it sung an air, whose melancholy
expression awakened all her attention, and captivated her heart. The
tones swelled and died faintly away among the clear, yet languishing
echoes which the rocks repeated with an effect like that of
enchantment.
Madame looked around in search of the sweet warbler, and
observed at some distance a peasant girl seated on a small projection
of the rock, overshadowed by drooping sycamores. She moved slowly
towards the spot, which she had almost reached, when the sound of her
steps startled and silenced the syren, who, on perceiving a stranger,
arose in an attitude to depart. The voice of madame arrested her, and
she approached. Language cannot paint the sensation of madame, when in
the disguise of a peasant girl, she distinguished the features of
Julia, whose eyes lighted up with sudden recollection, and who sunk
into her arms overcome with joy. When their first emotions were
subsided, and Julia had received answers to her enquiries concerning
Ferdinand and Emilia, she led madame to the place of her concealment.
This was a solitary cottage, in a close valley surrounded by
mountains, whose cliffs appeared wholly inaccessible to mortal foot.