Resuming the road to Cluse, the towns became more prosperous-looking and picturesque: in the distance, children, youths, and maidens tended herds of goats and sheep wearing tinkling bells; comfortable cottages dotted the hill-sides below the pastures; and a most luxuriant canopy of trees shaded the road. The village of Cluse lay in a small valley at the base of immense, snow-capped peaks, which over-shadowed the Arve and the road. The river rushing through the small valley was very noisome, and it was apparent to the travellers that to be trapped in such a place in an heavy rain would be most alarming, indeed, and brought to Darcy’s mind King Lear’s “whereso’ere you are, that bide the pelting of this pitiless storm.” Moving quickly on, the superstitious nature of the cottagers was evident in the numberless crosses and images of saints displayed in niches carved into the rock along the roadsides, all the way to Sallenche. How very different from the urbane and rational Genevans! The Vale of Sallenche was of nearly indescribable beauty: a panorama of a wide valley of fields, through which meandered the glistening Arve, amidst villages, spires, and plantations, all within a circlet of enormous crags, many topped with gleaming ice, and culminating at the far end with the imposing majesty of Mount Blanc. Reaching St. Martin, which—to a very general relief—had an unusually fine inn, they were well looked-after by the land-lord and his wife and daughters, the latter of whom placed an hearty hot supper and a bottle of excellent wine before the tired and hungry travellers.

In the morning light, the Darcys could see the face of Mont Blanc from their inn, covered in its glacial blanket, and the Arve winding before it, and under the graceful bridge of St. Martin, a wonderfully contrived structure of a single span. Mr. Darcy remarked to the ladies that such a sight was a great restorative to improper pride; surely there was no better illustration of one’s own insignificance. Georgiana and her brother had settled into the comfortable routine of Mr. Darcy directing what she was to sketch, to be reviewed at the day’s conclusion as to determine which views qualified for a more permanent representation; Elizabeth made short notes for inclusion in her correspondence.