“The chief buildings in Brieg are well-built in a wonderful glistening stone that the natives called giltstein,” read Georgiana, “which glows brightly in the few hours when the sun rises above the mountains and shines into the valley below. I believe we call it ‘Fools’ Gold’ in England, Elizabeth. Brieg suffered horribly in its attempt to resist Buonaparte at the end of the last century,” Georgiana continued, as they everywhere noticed evidence of the destruction perpetrated upon the town by the French. “The climate is so mild in this valley, that not only are very superior wines produced, but saffron as well!”

“I am very surprised to find the local climate can be so different from the surrounding areas as to permit such Mediterranean cultivation. I cannot account for it, other than to speculate that the mountains are arranged in such a way as to shield the valley from the winter winds and snows,” Mr. Darcy replied.

“On the whole, however, the beauty of the surrounding countryside, its location near the new road, the warm and sheltered climate, and the commerce that passes through town over the Simplon, must necessarily restore the area in time,” opined Mr. Darcy. “Buonaparte’s new road over the Simplon is regarded as his greatest and most lasting achievement. Even his greatest detractors have been forced to acknowledge the art and genius with which the new road traverses the great canyons, spans seas of ice, is carved through wide galleries from solid rock through the highest mountains, and ties Italy firmly to the rest of Europe. I read that the road cost above one million pounds, but the most astonishing feat of all, to my understanding, is that the work is the result of collabouration between French and Italian engineers—I had not imagined the two peoples unable to agree on so much as the measurement to be used—metres, toise, French leagues, feet, or miles, Italian leagues, Roman miles, or stadia, the geometric mile—and here is an entire passage over the Alps!”

Georgiana continued from her book, reading “Since ancient times, there has been a path over the Simplon, traversable only by foot or mule. In the seventeenth century, a man named Baron von Stockalper laid out money to improve the road to a width of three yards, affording easier commerce between the low countries and the rest of Europe. Since that time, however, the road had fallen into such disrepair that Buonaparte found it again fit only for feet and mules. The martial significance of the road has diminished, while increasing to a far greater extent the commerce and pleasure-travel afforded by the wide, gently rising and falling highway.”

All of the Darcys were struck by the audacity that had been turned, by Buonaparte, into the modern, safe highway they now travelled, and many times was the thought, “Thank Heaven I was not required to use the previous road!”