as his words had been repeated to me I knew of what he was thinking.  He was the first man of his condition who to my knowledge called rocks beautiful.  The peasant class abhor rocks on account of their sterility, and because the rustic idea of a beautiful landscape is the fertile and level plain.  In searching for the picturesque and the grandeur of nature, it is perfectly safe to go to those places which the peasant declares to be frightful by their ugliness.

Leaving Coupiac behind me, I turned towards the east.  The road, having been cut in the side of the cliff, exposed layers of brown argillaceous schist, like rotten wood, and so friable that it crumbled between the fingers; but what was more remarkable was that the layers, scarcely thicker than slate, instead of being on their natural plane, were turned up quite vertically.  I was now ascending to the barren uplands.  Near the brow of a hill I passed a very ancient crucifix of granite, the head, which must originally have been of the rudest sculpture, having the features quite obliterated by time.

A rural postman in a blouse with red collar had been trudging up the hill behind me, and I let him overtake me so that I might fall into conversation with him, for these men are generally more intelligent or better informed than the peasants.  I have often walked with them, and never without obtaining either instruction or amusement.  When we had reached the highest ground, from which a splendid view was revealed of the Rouergue country.—­a crumpled map of bare hills and deep dark gorges—­the postman pointed out to me the village of Roquecesaire (Caesar’s Rock), on a hill to the south, and told me a queer story of a battle between its inhabitants and those of an adjacent village.  The quarrel, strange to say, arose over a statue of the Virgin, which was erected not long since upon a commanding position between the two villages.  ‘Now, the Holy Virgin,’ said the postman, in no tone of mockery, ’was obliged to turn her back either to one village or the other, and this was the cause of the fight!’ When first set up, the statue looked towards Roquecesaire, to the great satisfaction of the inhabitants; but the people of the other village, who thought themselves equally pious, held that they had been slighted; and the more they looked at the back of the Virgin turned towards them the angrier they became, and the more determined not to submit to the indignity.  At length, unable to keep down their fury any longer, they sallied forth one day, men, women and children, with the intention of turning the statue round.  But the people of Roquecesaire were vigilant, and, seeing the hostile crowd coming, went forth to give them battle.  The combat raged furiously for hours, and it was watched—­so said the postman—­with much excitement and interest by the cure of Montclar—­the village we were now approaching—­who, happening to have a telescope, was able to note the varying fortune of war.  At length the Roquecesaire people got the worst of it, and they were driven away from the statue, which was promptly turned round.  Although many persons were badly knocked about, nobody died for the cause.  The energetic intervention of the spiritual and temporal authorities prevented a renewal of the scandal, and it was thought best, in the interest of peace, to allow the statue to be turned half-way to one village and half to the other.