CHAPTER X
W hen they swung round the great bend of the Rhone, and Vienne came in sight, Tommy uttered a cry of exultation.
“ Oh Clementina, let us stay here for a week!”
When they stood an hour afterwards on the great suspension bridge that connects Vienne with the little town of Sainte-Colombe, and drank in the afternoon beauty of the place, Tommy amended his proposition.
“Oh Clementina,” said he, “let us stay here for ever!”
Clementina sighed, and watched the broad blue river sweeping in its majestic curve between the wooded mountains from whose foliage peeped a myriad human habitations, the ancient Château-Fort de la Bâtie standing a brave and mutilated sentinel on its dominating hill, the nestling town with its Byzantine towers and tiled roofs, the Gothic west front of the Cath
