Yet Aigues-Mortes as we see has had a great and historical
past. It was favoured of kings, flourished commercially,
waxed rich, was admirably placed for commanding the trade
between France and the East, possessed a thousand possibilities
and advantages. But its glory has departed. It sits lone and
solitary in its mediseval atmosphere : a dead city entombed
in its own walls. Other cities have risen around, flourished
and prospered; Aigues-Mortes lies in a proud and dignified
retirement : a mediseval monument in the midst of a desert-like
plain ; a wonder of the past. Even from where we sat at the
end of the pier its distant walls were visible. No crowd thronged
above them ; no eager faces ; no acclamations filled the air. Its
day was over, probably for ever.
We found it difficult to tear ourselves away from all the
magic of the scene, but time and tide and trains wait for no
man. Our driver was discovered making merry with the sailors
on board one of the fishirg-smacks, drinking absinthe or some-
thing equally acceptable. A toast was being given as we went
up to them. There was a great trinquing of glasses and then
a shout of " Vive la Eepublique ! " like the short-sighted grown-
up children they were, who knew not what they were saying.
Our driver disembarked. We climbed into the cart, the
fishermen wished us a good-natured, friendly good-day and
" Bon voyage," and away we jogged and jolted.
"If you came here in the summer, it would be a much



304 IN THE VALLEY OF THE RHONE.
