Not only was there the novelty of the mountains, but everything here was unlike our home surroundings.

The soil and the rocks were a bright red instead of, as in our village, a dazzling white because of the underlying chalk beds.

And at home everything was flat and low, it seemed as if nothing there dared lift itself above the dead level and break the uniformity of the plains.

Here the dwellings, of reddish hue like the rocks, and built with old gabled ends and ancient turrets, were perched high up on the hill; the peasants were very tanned, and they spoke a language I did not understand; I noticed particularly that the women walked with a free movement of the hips, unknown to the peasants of our country, as they strode along carrying upon their heads sheaves of grain and great shining copper vessels.

My whole being vibrated to the charm of the unfamiliar beauty about me, and I was fascinated by the strange aspect of nature.
Toward evening we reached the little town that marked the end of our journey.