Resting some time, a few of us ventured to climb to the castle. An interesting legend (fully narrated in Pemberton’s _Monaco_, p. 351) attaches to it. During the latter half of the tenth century, Haroun, a bold African chief, in command of a formidable fleet, was cruelly ravaging the coast and carrying off captives, among whom was a maiden of Provence called Anna, of illustrious birth and marvellous beauty. The vessel bearing her to Spain had been taken after a bloody battle, in which her father and two brothers were killed. Haroun had first pitied and protected her, and then fell violently in love with her. His jealous wife, divining the fact from his altered demeanour, gave orders to bind her and have her by night cast into the sea. Discovering this in time, he saved Anna’s life, and in his rage caused his wife to be strangled. Arriving opposite Ste. Agnese, and struck by the advantage of the position, he landed with 100 men and his captives, the natives flying before him, ascended the mountain, and built the fort. Here he importuned the disconsolate maid to renounce Christianity and marry him, but in vain; till, finding her one day praying for him, he was overcome, embraced Christianity himself, and fled with her and all his treasure to Marseilles, where they were joyfully received and were married. The return took rather shorter time than the ascent; but the expedition occupied nearly the whole day from breakfast–time till dark. We might have descended by two or three different routes, but chose the way by which we had come. One of the other routes would have been by going round the mountain and descending upon the east side; but I believe it is very steep, and not much approved by the guides or donkey people. Another route would have been by diverging from the road by which we had ascended and coming down another ridge, called the Arbutus Walk (from the circumstance that it is filled with arbutus trees, with their brilliant scarlet and gold flower and fruit, so tempting and attractive to young people), and terminating in the Madonna Hill, a very favourite walk from Mentone. All in the hotel who had not taken part were eager to hear about our expedition, and we became for the nonce heroes, as famous as if we had made the ascent of Mont Blanc. * * * * * If one were to ascend simply to obtain a view, that from Ste. Agnese, or even from the castle on the top, would scarcely repay the fatigue of the ascent. It is dominated by a chain of rocky mountains, which surround it on every side except that to the sea; and the view towards the sea—that is, towards Mentone—is not more extensive than what may be obtained from many lower points upon which we there look down, and among others the monastery of Annunciata, which seems a long way immediately below, although it stands high, and is a prominent object from Mentone.