At the springs of Mont Dore he came again in contact with a little
world of people, who invariably shunned him with the eager haste that
animals display when they scent afar off one of their own species
lying dead, and flee away. The dislike was mutual. His late adventure
had given him a deep distaste for society; his first care,
consequently, was to find a lodging at some distance from the
neighborhood of the springs. Instinctively he felt within him the need
of close contact with nature, of natural emotions, and of the
vegetative life into which we sink so gladly among the fields.
The day after he arrived he climbed the Pic de Sancy, not without
difficulty, and visited the higher valleys, the skyey nooks,
undiscovered lakes, and peasants' huts about Mont Dore, a country
whose stern and wild features are now beginning to tempt the brushes
of our artists, for sometimes wonderfully fresh and charming views are
to be found there, affording a strong contrast to the frowning brows
of those lonely hills.
Barely a league from the village Raphael discovered a nook where
nature seemed to have taken a pleasure in hiding away all her
treasures like some glad and mischievous child. At the first sight of
this unspoiled and picturesque retreat, he determined to take up his
abode in it.
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