I am sorry to say that we "scamped" our last monument. To be sure, it was merely a tablet in a house-front setting forth the fact that Emile Augier had been born there; and already Augier had had one of the best speeches of the day. But that was no excuse for us. Actually, we scarcely waited to see the veil of pink paper torn away by a man on a step-ladder before we broke for the boat--and not a speech of any sort was made! Yet they bore us no malice, those brave Valencois. All the way down to the river, under the blaze of the sun, they crowded closely around us--with a well-meant but misapplied friendliness--and breathed what little air was stirring thrice over before it had a chance to get to our lungs. They covered again in a black swarm the bank and the bridge in our honour. Their band, through that last twenty minutes, blared steadfastly the "Marseillaise." From his post upon the landing-stage the cherubic Mayor beamed to us across his nobly tri-coloured stomach a series of parting smiles. The brass-helmeted firemen surrounded him--a little unsteadily, I fancied--smiling too. And as we slipped away from them all, into the rush of the river, they sent after us volley upon volley of cheers. Our breasts thrilled and expanded--it is not always that we poets thus are mounted upon high horses in the sight of all the world--and we cheered back to those discriminating and warm-hearted towns-folk until we fairly were under way down-stream. To the very last the cherubic Mayor, his hat raised, regarded us smilingly. To the very last--rivalling the golden glory of the helmet of Mambrino--the slightly-wavering head-gear of his attendant firemen shot after us golden gleams. VIII We drew away into calmer latitudes after leaving that whirlwind of a town. For the time being, our duties as public poets were ended; and there was a sense of restful comfort in knowing that for the moment we were rid of our fame and celebrity, and were free--as the lightest hearted of simple travellers--to enjoy the beauties of the river as it carried us, always at a full gallop, downward toward the sea.