Page:Ainsworth's Magazine - Volume 1.djvu/61

Immediately opposite is the Pic dc Sancy, the most elevated rock in this region, and the highest in the centre of France.

Beyond is the Pic de Cuzeau, and farther still, rushing with violence from the restraining rocks, is the Great Cascade, which leaps from its dizzy height into the valley of the Dordogne. Everywhere, turn which way you will, the cascade glitters in your eyes, generally with a rainbow across it, like a bridge of jewels thrown by the fairies, and everywhere the mountain of the Capucin is equally apparent; but if you wish to see the mountain as it can be best seen, mount the steep road that leads across the bridge over the brawling river, and after winding and turning many times, and admiring the beautiful view beneath, you reach a plateau of lava, and a forest of pine trees.

Having passed along a rugged path between these antique trees, you arrive at the base of the mountain, and behold a strange phenomenon.

At a short distance below the dome, entirely detached from the rest of the rock, is the figure of a monk in a Capucin's dress; his robe is wound round him in large folds, and his head is covered with a hood, He appears descending in haste, and his gigantic form comes out against the sky in bold relief.

As you approach nearer to this object, it becomes less and less distinct, and when you are close upon it, nothing presents itself but an unformed mass of stones, which appear to have been cast from a volcanic crater. All persons who have visited the Mont-Dore have seen the Capucin, but all do not know the history attached to it, which is as follows:—

In the early part of the fourteenth century, when France was torn with internal commotion, every great lord of the country fortified his castle against the aggressions of his neighbours, and there was scarcely a high rock in Auvergne, on which was not placed some strong fortress, where the baron and his family resided, defended by a powerful retinue of men-at-arms, always on the alert, to prevent a surprise.

On the summit of one of the mountains above the Dordogne, was perched, like an eagle's nest, the castle of the Baron de Coupladour, and beneath, nearly at its foot, stood the monastery of the Voie de Dieu, whose monks were looked upon as the most holy men in that part of the country; they were of the order of Capucins, and not one amongst them but had distinguished himself in some way or other for sanctity.

Below the monastery, and close to the river, the little hamlet of Croix le Blanc, celebrated for the beauty of its female inhabitants, and, amongst them, the most beautiful was a girl named Yolande, the daughter of a wood-cutter, whose parents were so proud of her, that the neighbours were accustomed to say no good could come of it.

It had always been a favourite idea, not only of this young girl, but of her parents, that she would become the wife of one of the great lords of the neighbourhood; and, in consequence of this impression, she treated all the young men of the village with the utmost disdain, so that she was generally known by the name of Yolande la Fière. In spite of her pride, however, she had only to shew herself at any of the fêtes, and she attracted universal admiration, so that she was the cause, not only of delight, but of much uuhappiness, wherever she appeared, as she disdained all those whom her beauty enslaved.

It happened one evening, that she was returning rather later than usual from the mountain with her goats, when, as she passed a point of rock from which a cascade came leaping into the stony basin beneath, she stopped to observe the rays of the moon which had just risen on the water, and as she