The street is a broad alley, planted with large trees, and lined with rather handsome hotels. It was opened by the intendant d'Ètigny, who, for this misdeed, was near being stoned. It was necessary to call in a company of dragoons to force the Luchonnais to endure the prosperity of their country.
At the end of the alley a pretty chalet, like those in the Jardin des Plantes, shelters the _du Pr'e_ spring. Its walls are a fantastic trellis of gnarled branches, adorned with their bark; its roof is thatched; its ceiling is a tapestry of moss. A { 486}young girl sitting at the taps distributes to the bathers glasses of sulphurous water. The elegant toilettes come about four o'clock. Meanwhile you sit in the shade on benches of woven wood, and watch the children playing on the turf, the rows of trees descending toward the river, and the broad green plain, sprinkled with villages.
Below the spring are the bathing-houses, nearly finished, and which will be the finest in the Pyrenees. At present the neighboring field is still strewn with materials; the lime smokes all day, and makes the air to flame and quiver.
The court of the baths contains a large votive altar, bearing on one of its faces an amphora and this inscription:
This god Lixo, they say, was in the time of the Celts the tutelary deity of the country. Hence the addition these other name of Luchon.
{ 487}He is maimed and not destroyed. The gods are tenacious of life.
There are several balls, and orchestras in certain cafés. These orchestras are strolling families, hired at so much a week, to make the house uninhabitable. One of these, composed of a flute, male, and four violins, female, used fearlessly to play the same overture every evening. The privileged beings { 488}who had paid were in the hall among the music stands. A throng of peasants always crowded at the door, with open mouths; they formed in a circle and mounted on the benches to see.
The tradespeople of every sort turn their shops into a lottery: lottery of plate, of books, of little objects of ornament, etc. The tradesman and his wife distribute cards, price one sou, to the servant-maids, soldiers, and children, who compose the crowd. Somebody draws; the gallery and those interested stretch their necks eagerly forward. The man reads the number; a cry is heard, the unguarded sign of an overflowing joy. "It's I that have won, I, monsieur the merchant." And you see a little serving-maid, blushing all over, lift herself on tiptoe and stretch out her hands. The merchant dexterously seizes a pot, parades it above his head, and makes everybody about remark it. "A fine mustard-pot; a mustard-pot worth three francs, threaded with gold. Who wants numbers?" The assembly lasts four hours. It begins anew every day; the customers are not wanting for a single moment.