and the barbaric imagination that found a mystical relationship between the monsters of its own creation and the problems of the universe.  The exterior of the church is not less interesting than the interior.  The charming Romanesque apse, with its three narrow windows, its blind arcade, the capitals ornamented with the acanthus, the row of fantastic modillions above carried all round the building, their sculpture exhibiting the strangest variety of ideas—­heads of men, women, beasts, birds, and fabulous monsters; and then the venerable portal, with its elaborate bas-relief of the Last Judgment, furnish much matter for reflection and study.  In this ‘Judgment’ Christ is standing in the midst of the Apostles, and the dead are rising from the tombs below.  Fiends are pulling the wicked out of their coffins, and others are throwing the condemned into the wide-opened jaws of a frightful monster.  Above are numerous figures separated by various mouldings forming archivolts.  The arch of the door is Gothic, but all the other work is Romanesque.  The belfry is simply a roofed wall pierced with four arched openings for bells.

Espalion had once its strong fortress on a neighbouring hill—­the Castle of Calmont d’Olt.  It is now a ruin.  I climbed to it, and found the undertaking more tedious than I had supposed.  The narrow path winding through the vineyards was bordered with cat-mint, agrimony, vervain, and camomile.  Then it passed through a little village, where there were old walnut-trees and mossy walls, and a small church with these words over the door:  ’C’est ici la maison de Dieu et la porte du ciel.’  After the village, the path was almost lost amidst blocks of sandstone and the debris of the fortress, where snakes basking in the sun slid away at my approach, hissing indignantly at the intruder.  On the summit there had been in the far-off ages an outpour of basalt, which had crystallized into columnar prisms, and upon this foundation of ancient lava the castle was built.  A good deal of wall and the lower part of a rectangular keep remain of this fortress, which dates from the twelfth century.  The outer wall was strengthened with semicircular bastions, the ruins of which are seen.  Fennel now thrives amongst the fallen stones, which were dumb witnesses of so much that was human.

Returning to the inn, I resisted the temptation held out to stop and lunch, although the preparations in the kitchen were far advanced, and started off on the road to Estaing.  I was again following the Lot, which here flows between high vine-clad hills.  After walking a few miles, I saw a bush over the door of a roadside cottage, and, entering, found that the only person in charge of this very rustic inn was a pretty girl of about seventeen.  She looked a little scared at first; but when I had sat down with the evident intention of making myself at home, she became reconciled to the sight of me, and consented to let me have what there was in the house to eat.