|
Matilda Betham-Edwards - East of Paris
decrepit, dingy old man who showed me round the church, although evidently very impatient for his
mid-day meal. He informed me that this closing of churches at Melun had been necessitated of late years
by a series of robberies. From twelve till half past one o'clock no worshippers are present as a rule, hence
the thieves' opportunity. Unfortunately marauders do not strip beautiful interiors of the tinselly gew-gaws
that so often deface them; in this respect, however, St. Aspais being comparatively an exception. Alike
within and without the proportions are magnificent, and the old stained glass is not marred by modern
crudities. I do not here by any means exhaust the sights of this ancient town, from which, by the way,
Barbizon is now reached in twenty minutes, an electric tramway plying regularly between Melun and that
famous art pilgrimage.
CHAPTER II. MORET-SUR-LOING.
The valley of the Loing abounds in captivating spots, Moret-sur-Loing bearing the palm. Over the
ancient town, bird-like broods a majestic church, as out-spread wings its wide expanse of roof, while
below by translucent depths and foliage richly varied, stretch quarters old and new, the canal intersecting
the river at right angles. Lovely as is the river on which all who choose may spend long summer days, the
canal to my thinking is lovelier still. Straight as an arrow it saunters between avenues of poplar, the lights
and shadows of wood and water, the sunburnt, stalwart barge folk, their huge gondoliers affording
endless pictures. Hard as is undoubtedly the life of the rope tower, rude as may appear this amphibious
existence, there are cheerful sides to the picture. Many of these floating habitations possess a fireside
nook cosy as that of a Parisian concierge, I was never tired of strolling along the canal and watching the
barge folk. One day a friend and myself found a large barge laden with coal at the head of the canal, the
huge dark framework and its sombre burden lighted up with touches of grace and colour. At the farther
end of the vessel was hung a cage of canaries, at the other end was a stand of pot-flowers, geraniums and
petunias in full bloom and all the more brilliant by virtue of contrast. A neighbour of the bargeman, a
bright, intelligent woman, brown as a gipsy but well-spoken and of tidy appearance, invited us to enter.
Imagine the neatest, prettiest little room in the world, parlour, bedchamber and kitchen in one, every
object so placed as to make the most of available space. On a small side-table - and of course under such
circumstances each article must be sizable - stood a sewing machine, in the corner was a bedstead with
exquisitely clean bedding, in another a tiny cooking stove. Vases of flowers, framed pictures and
ornamental quicksilver balls had been found place for, this bargewoman's home aptly illustrating
Shakespeare's adage - "Order gives all things view." The brisk, weather-beaten mistress now came up, no
little gratified by our interest and our praises.
"You ladies would perhaps like to make a little journey with me?" she asked, "nothing easier, we start
to-morrow morning at six o'clock for Nevers, you could take the train back."
Never perhaps in our lives had myself and my companion received an invitation so out of the way, so
bewilderingly tempting! And we felt too, with a pang, that never again in all probability should we
receive such another. But on this especial day we were not staying at Moret, only running over for the
afternoon from our headquarters at Bourron. Acceptance was thus hemmed round with small
impediments. And by way of consolation, next morning the glorious weather broke. A downpour
recalling our own lakeland would anyhow have kept us ashore.
"Another time then!" had said the kind hostess of the barge at parting. She seemed as sorry as ourselves
that the little project she had mooted so cordially could not be carried out.
The Loing canal joins the Seine at Saint Mammes, a few kilometres lower down, continuing its course of
|
