Béarn and the Pyrenees : $b A legendary tour to the country of Henri QuatreCostello, Louisa Stuart
History
Béarn and the Pyrenees : $b A legendary tour to the country of Henri Quatre
Costello, Louisa Stuart
Béarn (France) -- Description and travel; Pyrenees -- Description and travel
I thanked them for my share of the amusement, and remarked to one near
me how beautiful the voice of Eugénie was. "Yes," said she, "she is
celebrated in the country for singing so well; but, even now, her mother
sings the best; you never heard such a lovely tone as her's; they are a
musical family: every one cannot have such a gift as Eugénie."
This seemed a good beginning for the music and poetry of the south, and
promised well for all that was to come; _but that music was the last_,
as it had been the first, I had heard in France; where, in general,
there is no melody amongst the people, in any part that I have visited.
As for its poetry, we were approaching a place where a celebrated
_patois_ poet resided, who is the boast, not only of Agen, but of
Gascony, and who has made, of late, a great sensation in this part of
France.
CHAPTER XVII.
AGEN--LA BELLE ESTHER--ST. CAPRAIS--THE LITTLE CHERUBS--ZOÉ AT THE
FOUNTAIN--THE HILL--LE GRAVIER--JASMIN, THE POET-BARBER--THE
METAPHOR--LAS PAPILLOTAS--FRANÇONNETTE--JASMIN'S LINES ON THE OLD
LANGUAGE--THE SHEPHERD AND THE GASCON POET--RETURN TO AGEN--JASMIN
AND THE KING OF FRANCE--JASMIN AND THE QUEEN OF ENGLAND.
IT was night when we reached Agen, and, amidst a tumult of _patois_,
which sounded like Spanish, and was strange to our unaccustomed ears, we
landed, and had our goods torn from us by peremptory porters, who, in
spite of remonstrance, piled every one's baggage together in carts, and,
ordering all the passengers to follow as they might, set off with it to
some unknown region. The stars were bright, and the night fine, as we
scrambled along over a very rugged road for more than a mile--for, the
new pier not being yet finished, the boat was obliged to land its cargo
at a distance from the town. Up and down, in and out, we pursued our
way, guided by the lanthorns of our tyrants, and at last found ourselves
in a boulevard, planted with large high trees, which we followed till a
shout announced to us that the Hôtel de France was reached.
By what seemed little less than a miracle, all our baggage was safely
brought after us, our troubles were quickly over, and we took possession
of spacious and lofty chambers, in a very imposing-looking hotel.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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