Mont St Michel

MontStMichelHighTidean excerpt from The Chateau by William Maxwell

…the tide at Mont Saint Michel had been tampered with. The island was not an island anymore; the water did not cover the tops of the sight-seeing buses; it did not even cover their hubcaps…
…They stepped out of the hotel into a surprising silence. The cobblestone street was empty. The chartered buses were all gone.
Turning their back on the street of stairs, they followed the upward-winding dirt paths and discovered the little gardens, here, there, and everywhere. They stood looking down on the salt marshes and the sandbars. Above them the medieval abbey hung dreamlike and in the sky and that was where they were also, they realized with surprise. The swallows did not try to sell them anything and the sea air made them excited. Time had gone off with the sight-seeing buses and they were free to look to their heart’s content. Stone towers, slate roofs, half-timbered houses, cliffs of cut stone, thin Gothic windows and crenellated walls and flying buttresses, the rock cliffs dropping sheer into the sea and the wet sand mirroring the sky, cloud pinnacles that were changing color with the coming on of night, and the beautiful past, that cannot quite bear to go but stands here (as it does everywhere but here especially) saying Good-bye, good-bye….

So long,

See you tomorrow…



About Evelyn

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