I was sitting on the pier of the small port of Obernon, near the village of Salis, looking at
Antibes, bathed in the setting sun. I had never before seen anything so wonderful and so
beautiful.
The small town, enclosed by its massive ramparts, built by Monsieur de Vauban,
extended into the open sea, in the middle of the immense Gulf of Nice. The great waves,
coming in from the ocean, broke at its feet, surrounding it with a wreath of foam; and
beyond the ramparts the houses climbed up the hill, one after the other, as far as the two
towers, which rose up into the sky, like the peaks of an ancient helmet. And these two
towers were outlined against the milky whiteness of the Alps, that enormous distant wall
of snow which enclosed the entire horizon.
Between the white foam at the foot of the walls and the white snow on the sky-line the
little city, dazzling against the bluish background of the nearest mountain ranges,
presented to the rays of the setting sun a pyramid of red-roofed houses, whose facades
were also white, but so different one from another that they seemed to be of all tints.
And the sky above the Alps was itself of a blue that was almost white, as if the snow had
tinted it; some silvery clouds were floating just over the pale summits, and on the other
side of the gulf Nice, lying close to the water, stretched like a white thread between the
sea and the mountain. Two great sails, driven by a strong breeze, seemed to skim over the
waves. I looked upon all this, astounded.
This view was one of those sweet, rare, delightful things that seem to permeate you and
are unforgettable, like the memory of a great happiness. One sees, thinks, suffers, is
moved and loves with the eyes. He who can feel with the eye experiences the same keen,
exquisite and deep pleasure in looking at men and things as the man with the delicate and
sensitive ear, whose soul music overwhelms.
I turned to my companion, M. Martini, a pureblooded Southerner.
"This is certainly one of the rarest sights which it has been vouchsafed to me to admire.
"I have seen Mont Saint-Michel, that monstrous granite jewel, rise out of the sand at
sunrise.
"I have seen, in the Sahara, Lake Raianechergui, fifty kilometers long, shining under a
moon as brilliant as our sun and breathing up toward it a white cloud, like a mist of milk.
"I have seen, in the Lipari Islands, the weird sulphur crater of the Volcanello, a giant
flower which smokes and burns, an enormous yellow flower, opening out in the midst of
the sea, whose stem is a volcano.
