Keeping along the base of the Pic de Bergons, with the Pic du Lac Grand rivalling it on the other side of the defile, we soon sighted the chasm and cascade of Rioumaou on our left, and reached the Pas de l’Echelle.  At 1 metre 50 centimetres, or 43/4 feet, from the extremity of the ornamental facing which marks the place, we pulled up, to try the magnificent echo, and were in no way disappointed.  Our voices came back particularly clearly, but from the coach-box the sound was stronger.  On ahead again, still by the base of the Pic de Bergons, with the mighty Col and Pic d’Aubiste (8863 ft.) majestic across the river; till, at the foot of the Pic, where the sparkling Cascade de Lassariou comes tumbling down, the wretched hamlet of Sia, with its “quatre moulins” and very fine bridge, broke into view.  Traversing the Pont de Sia—­distant about three miles from Luz and built when the new road was made two years ago—­we kept the right side of the Gave, and, with the Pic de Litouese towering above us, reached the Pont de Desdouroucat (4 3/8 miles), and again passed to the opposite bank, leaving the remains of the old route on the side whence we came.  The sky was clearing more and more, and before us, over Gavarnie, it was one pure expanse of blue.  The gorge was very wild, but with a wildness of piled-up crags and blackened sides that the beautiful winding river and the spring tints helped to beautify and subdue.  Presently the massive Brada, up the grand Gorge de Bacheviron, came in sight on our left, and as we passed the insignificant hamlet of Pragneres (43/4 miles), where the torrent of Bugaret dashes down into the Gave, the Brada looked more massive still.  Thus it continued all along the route, every bend of the road bringing something new—­whether a cascade, a valley, or a lofty peak, always something to claim attention and praise.  At such a bend, shortly after quitting Pragneres, the great snow-crowned Pimene (9193 ft.) seemed to bar the way; while at another, the hamlet of Bue and the Col de Bue appeared on the right, and at another, again, Mont Ferrat (10,575 ft.), up the Heas valley on the left.  Not very much further, when bending into Gedre, we obtained a splendid glimpse of La Tour and La Casque du Marbore and the Breche de Roland.  Gedre (8 miles), like all the rest of the villages or hamlets in the vicinity, is a miserable, poverty-stricken-looking place, but with picturesque surroundings.  It is a good centre for numerous excursions—­notably that to the Cirque de Troumouse—­and possesses an excellent botanist as well as a celebrated grotto.

[Footnote:  The grotto’s notoriety is gained, perhaps, by its imposture; it is in reality no grotto, but a very pretty bit of scenery nevertheless, on a fine day.]

Stopping at the house by the bridge, we were escorted by the good woman into her garden and down some steps to a platform, whence the so-called grotto was to be surveyed.  It is a very picturesque spot.  The lofty walls of perpendicular rock, the overhanging bushes and flowers, the trees above, the field beyond, and the blue water of the Gave de Heas foaming beneath, are charming enough, with the aid of rays of sunlight, to make the spot famous, and the good woman chuckle as she pockets the half-franc per head.