A Lady's Tour in Corsica, Vol. 2 (of 2) by Gertrude Forde

Author:Gertrude Forde [Forde, Gertrude]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781507509630
Google: ceg6rgEACAAJ
Publisher: CreateSpace Independent Publishing Platform
Published: 2015-03-24T02:41:27+00:00

CHAPTER XII.

FROM CARGHESE TO AJACCIO.

When we left our rooms next morning, the skies were black with rain, and the downpour obliged us to put off our start till 11 a.m.; when the pelting had turned into a gentle spattering, such as travellers in Corsica must learn to despise.

From Carghese to Calcataggio was a steep mount, for some time following the windings of the sea-shore, and then hanging above it, but never out of sight of the blue waters.

The promontories were low and uninteresting; but, through the gleams of sunshine dancing in and out of light showers, the rough sea, unrivalled in its tideless purity of colour, green and opal, threw great arching rollers on the white beaches and outlying red rocks.

The Mediterranean never looked more lovely to us than it did this stormy day, the wind blowing sheets of foam across the narrow bays, and blue and purple shadows flinging their changing hues across the heaving mass of dark green waters.

The surf was still roaring out of sight beneath our feet as we passed among steep grassy hills, and lanes brilliant with white and purple vetch, marigolds, borage, sweet peas, poppies, and large-eyed daisies, nestling all amongst long bending grasses, that swayed gracefully at the wind's behest.

Corn-fields and general cultivation were to be seen here; and as we neared Sagona Bay the coast-line suddenly opened out grandly, and showed us fine outlying capes and promontories, two ranges stretching out together.

Passing a polite group of Sagona inhabitants, who, seated outside the little village inn, in defiance of spotting rain, nodded to Antonio, and removed their hats to us, we mounted the old route to bleak and stony San Sebastiani, its ugly chapel peering from the summit; and thence cantered down, in one long descent, towards Ajaccio, by degrees exchanging the frosty air of the Col for the warm bright sunshine of the long plain.

It was only five o'clock when we reached Hôtel Germania; and, during the last half-hour, we had hastily resolved, being somewhat pressed for time, to start anew next morning on our last tour to the forest of Sorba, and the famous precipices of L'Inzecca.

So it was our last evening in Ajaccio; and as I walked through the little town for some final commissions an hour or two later, it seemed gayer and more attractive than ever. The sun was shining brightly over the blue sea, although the streets were all in shadow, and the roads looked as if they had never known a drop of rain in their lives.

Out beyond the town, down the green avenued road, the mountains were blushing rosy pink with purple shadows, and the descending sun threw long golden lines across the hot sea, here quite calm and peaceful; and on the Place Napoléon beside the shore, the better end of the population sauntered slowly up and down, and a little boy, dressed in the newest French style, was taking his black pet lamb for a walk, ornamented by a pink collar, to which the blue ribbon was tied.

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