Two or three miles farther up the valley, near a small village or hamlet, I crossed a low bridge over the Vers, and by following the road on the other side, still ascending the course of the stream, I came to a spot where a volume of water that would soon have filled a large reservoir flowed quietly out of a little hollow at the foot of great rocks.  It was the Fountain of Polemie which, on account of its abundant flow in all seasons, is supposed to have been the source from which the Romans led their aqueduct to Divona—­now called Cahors.  The water of this fountain, which derives its name from Polemius, a Roman functionary, is of limpid purity, and its constancy proves that it rises from a great depth.  The Romans must have carried the water on arches across the valley, and probably for a considerable distance down it, before they made use of the natural wall of rock in the manner described, but not a trace remains of the arches, or even of the piers.

In order to reach the tableland of Murcens, it was necessary to cross again the roaring torrent of the Vers, and after several vain attempts to do so, by means of the rocks lying in its bed, I came to a bridge which solved the difficulty.  The scene was now sublimely rugged and desolate.  On each side the majestic rocks reared their ever-varying fantastic shapes towards the sky.

I knew, from what I had been told, that Murcens lay somewhere above the escarped cliff on my left, and at no great distance, but the difficulty was to reach it.  I had heard of a path, but I soon gave up the attempt to find it.  As there was not a human being to be seen who could give me any counsel, I commenced climbing the hill in the direction that I wished to take.  It was anything but straightforward walking.  The lower part of the steep was strewn with loose stones like shingle, that slipped under the feet, so that I had to proceed in zigzag fashion, taking advantage of every bush of juniper and box and root of hellebore as a foothold.  But the vegetation grew denser as I ascended, and I had soon plenty of box and dwarf oak to help me.

Before attempting to climb the upper wall of solid limestone, I sat in the mouth of a small cavern to eat the frugal lunch I had brought with me, and to contemplate at my leisure the wild grandeur of the valley.  I could not have chosen a better place for feeling in one sense dwindled, in another expanded, by the majesty of the stony solitude.  Suddenly, while I gazed, the sun breaking through the clouds made every yellow tree brighten like melting gold, and drew a voice of joy from all the dumb and solemn rocks.