waterfall would be enough to digest in a day. During these two or three hours, I had a very feast of them."
If I extract this somewhat rhapsodical passage, it is to show that my inward man was not dampened, by the dampening process externally applied. On the contrary, I am disposed to be jubilant, almost defiant, in proportion to the fury of the storm; that is to say when no serious personal inconvenience is caused by stress of weather. In a mountain region too, above all others, clouds play so great a part in the combination of fine effects, that I have many times fairly welcomed a tempestuous spell.
Thus from the Pont d'Espagne I continued my ride an hour or so further, in order to reach the Lac de Gaube, knowing perfectly well that the chances were a hundred to one against my getting a glimpse of the glaciers of the Vignemale, at whose feet this small sheet of water is imbedded. Small it may well be termed, for it is not quite three miles in circumference, though the largest lake in the Pyrenees.On the rocky shore where the rough pathway terminates, stands, or stood
at the period of which I write, a solitary hut. There, during the short
summer season, might be found a family who earned a scanty subsistence,
by catching the lake trout and serving them up to chance travellers; by
rowing, in the solitary punt, any one who cared to paddle about the dark
waters; or by escorting any still more adventurous stranger desirous of
exploring the glaciers above-named, or ascending the lower heights of
the Vignemale.Stepping up to the door of this cabin, I entered into conversation with
its chief occupant, who probably combined in his own person the various
offices of restaurateur, fisherman, muleteer, guide, and smuggler.
Possibly I libel him in the last respect; but along that frontier of
France and Spain, it is rare to find a mountaineer guiltless of the
contraband trade.A visitor on such a day was a welcome sight to the poor fellow, who was
eloquent in regrets that _his_ mountain and _his_ glaciers and _his_
other local points of interest were all wrapped in the impenetrable
mist. He seemed, I remember now, to care more about it than I did; for I
had revelled in the exhibition of cascades, and was rather tickled at
the notion of having come up to this lone and savage spot, where nothing
whatever was to be seen.If a spirit had whispered me, that the moment of my third _rencontre_
was close at hand, I should have smiled incredulously.The fog lifted. I could see to a distance of half a dozen yards."What's that?""If Monsieur will give himself the trouble of walking up to it, he will
see."It was on a jutting promontory of rock, close at hand. A small enclosure
was railed in. It held what was obviously a monumental tablet, in white
marble, but discoloured 

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