When the _bouillabaisse_ is made according to the _vieilles règles_, it is as exquisite a thing to eat as is to be found among all the famous dishes of famous places. One goes to Burgundy to eat _escargots_, to Rouen for _caneton_, and to Marguery’s for soles, but he puts the memory of all these things behind him and far away when he first tastes _bouillabaisse_ in the place of its birth. Here is the recipe in its native tongue so that there may be no mistaking it: “_Poisson de la Méditerranée fraîchement pêché, avec les huiles vierges de la Provence. Thon, dorade, mulet, rouget, rascasses, parfumés par le fenouil et de laurier, telles sont les bases de cette soupe, colorée par le safran, que toutes les ménagères de la littoral de Provence s’entendent à merveille à préparer._” As before said, not many tourists (English or American) frequent Martigues, and those who do come all have leanings toward art. Now and then a real “carryall and guide-book traveller” drifts in, gets a whiff of the mistral, (which often blows with deadly fury across the Étang) and, thinking that it is always like that, leaves by the first train, after having bought a half-dozen picture post-cards and eaten a bowl of _bouillabaisse_. The type exists elsewhere in France, in large numbers, in Normandy and Brittany for instance, but he is a _rara avis_ at Martigues, and only comes over from his favourite tea-drinking Riviera resort (he tells you) “out of curiosity.” Martigues is practically the gateway to all the attractions of the wonderful region lying around the Étang de Berre, and of the littoral between Marseilles and the mouths of the Rhône. It is not very accessible by rail, however, and a good hard walker could get there from Marseilles almost as quickly on foot as by train. The ridiculous little train of double-decked, antiquated cars, and a still more antiquated locomotive, takes nearly an hour to make the journey from Pas-de-Lanciers. Some day the dreaded mistral will blow this apology for rapid transit off into the sea, and then there will come an electric line, which will make the journey from Marseilles in less than an hour, instead of the three or four that it now takes. [Illustration] CHAPTER VI. THE ÉTANG DE BERRE Martigues is the metropolis of the towns and villages which fringe the shore of the Étang de Berre, a sort of an inland sea, with all the attributes of both a salt and fresh water lake.