At the hour of noon, the shepherd had sometimes acquired an
augmentation to his audience, in some comely matron or blooming
maiden, with whom he had rendezvoused by such a fountain as we have
described, and who listened to the husband's or lover's chalumeau, or
mingled her voice with his in the duets, of which the songs of the
troubadours have left so many examples. In the cool of the evening,
the dance on the village green, or the concert before the hamlet door;
the little repast of fruits, cheese, and bread, which the traveller
was readily invited to share, gave new charms to the illusion, and
seemed in earnest to point out Provence as the Arcadia of France.
But the greatest singularity was, in the eyes of Arthur, the total
absence of armed men and soldiers in this peaceful country. In
England, no man stirred without his long bow, sword, and buckler. In
France, the hind wore armour even when he was betwixt the stilts of
his plough. In Germany, you could not look along a mile of highway,
but the eye was encountered by clouds of dust out of which were seen,
by fits, waving feathers and flashing armour. Even in Switzerland, the
peasant, if he had a journey to make, though but of a mile or two,
cared not to travel without his halbert and two-handed sword. But in
Provence all seemed quiet and peaceful, as if the music of the land
had lulled to sleep all its wrathful passions.
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