PAU AND THE LIFE THERE--DELIGHTFUL ROADS--ANCIENT ORTHEZ--MADAME AND HER HOTEL--THE CHÂTEAU OF BIDACHE AND ITS HISTORY Our ride to Pau is down the banks of the Gave de Pau, past quaint towns and churches and many mineral baths. Near noon, that well known watering-place of Southern France comes into view, her famous terrace rising high over the river; crowned by a line of hotels and villas, and with the ancient castle, the birthplace of Henry IV, rising majestically at its further end. In the valley rushes the Gave and beyond the foot-hills the higher Pyrenees rise tier on tier to the snows and clouds. The prospect is enchanting. I should imagine that one might become very fond of Pau. It is a quaint old city, delightfully placid, and its promenade like one great proscenium box with God's theatre of the mountains holding perpetual performance before you, and most of your time will be passed on that terrace watching the lights and shadows as they chase each other past the many mountain peaks into far-off valleys leading into Spain. You will find yourself quoting _Lucile_ on the slightest provocation, and will become romantic if you remain too long. The window of my room in the Hôtel de France,--a good hostelry by the way,--overlooked terrace, valley, and mountains, and I found myself hanging out of it in a most dangerous fashion at all hours of the day and night, until sleep and the murmuring river drove me to bed. The lover of golf will find in Pau, I am told, the best links in Europe. The hunter may follow the paper fox any day and the drives must be endless and all beautiful. Yet I fancy the stranger in Pau has little time to spend on them,--the social life being more attractive. It seems to be a pleasant existence, not too strenuous, and composed of pleasant people. The usual run of tourist does not come here, which is greatly in its favour. Its château, which has been judiciously restored, holds many beautiful rooms and much of interest within its wall, but I shall not describe so well known a building. Monday, April 3d. The day of our departure opens cloudy with threatening rain and I am in doubt as to going forward. However it may clear by ten, and as Jean has been "summoned" for fast driving and is now in court, we must wait at all events. I do not know why they have selected Jean for a victim. We are not of the great racing community and never have gone more than thirty-eight miles an hour. Perhaps it is because of the killing of the poor old dog, or maybe because of the old lady who climbed a tree,--then again that porker may have entered protest at our too close attentions. However, it will be but a small fine if anything. Jean returns disgusted. It was all because of a "spurt" a month ago between Nice and Monte Carlo when Mr. E. had the auto. They made no move during the weeks in Nice but tracked him by his number all over our crooked course from Nice here.