from this view—­invisible, hidden behind the Pic de Sarradets (8993 ft.); but the Fausse Breche beyond, and more to the right the magnificent Taillon (10,323 ft.), and the Pic de Gabietou, with the Port de Gavarnie—­a peculiar shoulder-like rock, below them both—­filled up the semicircle in all its wonderful entirety.  When at last we reached the point whence the whole can be viewed to most advantage, we did not require the assertion of the guide that we were in enjoyment of one of the best days of the year, to increase our admiration and delight.

The amphitheatre, standing before us like the ruins of some mighty arena, in which the throngs of eager men and women and the blood of the dying gladiator had long given place to the purifying snow; the summits around uplifted towards the blue sky; the cascade, no longer dashing as full of life and hope, but frozen in its course and hanging in icicles between the rocks; the few uncovered crags scattered here and there, relieving the dazzling whiteness of the “glace eternelle”; the sparse trees down the outer slopes struggling to free themselves from their winter cloak; the cloud of frost scintillating in the sunlight as a mass of loosened snow rushed into the depths below;—­was not such a scene as this, presented to our gaze in unveiled splendour, more than sufficient to bewilder in the intensity of its majesty and loveliness?

Yet even this was not all.  The silence, the solemn and perfect silence, that reigned over the whole, only broken by the dull sound of the falling avalanche or the shrill voice of the restless crow, was so evident and so powerful, and combined so impressively with the marvellous beauty of the surroundings, that the heart could not fail to recognise the sublimity of Nature and the omnipotence of Nature’s God!

We stayed there for a long time, and with great reluctance turned our horses’ heads from the scene; while even when we had done so, we stopped at nearly every bend of the road for another look.

[Illustration:  THE CIRQUE OF GAVARNIE (IN SUMMER).]

The exact distance from the hotel to the extreme end of the Cirque is calculated at 33/4 miles, but we traversed little more than two-thirds of that distance, on account of the depth of the avalanches, which were then melting far too quickly to allow of dry walking any further.

Arriving again at the hotel, the chatter of the women over some new arrivals was as deafening as ever.  Our good guide Poc considered it was not to be borne any longer, so having counted the women and their asses, he cleared a space in preparation for a mock sale at which they were all to be put up, and having got us in front as make-believe purchasers, proceeded with the business, which we called

 “THE GUIDE’S AUCTION.”

  This way, sirs, this way!  Will you please to walk up? 
    The auction I’m ready to start: 
  I’m instructed to sell all these valuable lots,
    And the bidding I hope will be smart.