Our first two days were more or less wet, and by reports of heavy snowstorms around us, we were unanimously of opinion that we had come too early.  However, with a little sun the place soon began to look more cheerful, and a few days’ fine weather wrought quite a change.

The hotel looks down on the Place Lafayette and the commencement of the avenue known as the “Coustous.”  This name puzzled us!  We tried to find its derivation in French, without success, and Greek and German were no better.  Latin seemed to solve the difficulty with the word “Custos,” since it is said that the ancient guardians of the town formerly marched up and down beneath these fine old trees; so we decided to hunt no further but to translate “Coustous” into the “Guards’ Walk.”  Having settled that knotty point, we took a stroll in the avenue, and later, paid a visit to the parish church of St. Vincent which is close by.  It is particularly chaste inside, some portions dating from the 14th century, but the 15th and 16th have each had a share in the construction.  Some of the altars are made of fine Pyrenean marble, and the Empress Eugenie is said to have given the wooden image of the Virgin on the pedestal.

As the various marbles obtained in the vicinity are exceedingly interesting, and in many cases very beautiful, a very pleasant half-hour can be spent at one of the many marble works which the town possesses.  Fired with this idea ourselves, one gloomy day after lunch we sallied from the hotel, down the road to the left of the church, through the public gardens, and—­attracted by the marble pillar—­down the lane to the right of it, which at length brought us to the works of Monsieur Geruzet.  The huge blocks of the rough stone were first inspected, then we saw the various processes of cutting, ornamenting and polishing, and finally were ushered into the showroom, where all kinds of articles from a sleeve-stud to a sideboard were on sale.  The cigar-trays and letterweights were most reasonable, but it is not necessary to buy at all—­and gratuities are not supposed to be permitted.

There were some fine turn-outs in the donkey line which deserve notice, the peculiarity of these animals here being, to go where they are wanted, and even to trot about it.  Looking out of the window one morning, we were immediately attracted by the tiniest of donkeys galloping across the “place” with two big men behind it; and later on in the day, a neat specimen of the same tribe passed down the “Coustous,” dragging a small dogcart, almost completely filled by the form of a French female, two or three times as large as her donkey.