a mile through olive
orchards, and were in the town before we realized it. Unlike other
hill cities of the Riviera that we had visited, Mougins has no castle
and no walls. Few traces remain of outside fortifications. All around
Mougins the land is cultivated. One does not realize the abruptness of
the hilltop, for the city rises from fields and vineyards and orchards.
Saint-Paul-du-Var and Villeneuve-Loubet remind one of the days when
self-defense was a constant preoccupation. Mougins long ago forgot
feudal quarrels, foreign invasions and raids of Saracens and Barbary
pirates. The peasants still live together on a hilltop, going forth in
the morning and coming back in the evening. But they have taken the
stone of their walls for fences, and of their towers for barns. They
have brought their tilled land up the hillside to the city.

On the main street, we had the impression that the medieval character
of Mougins was lost by rebuilding. Ailanthus trees and whitewashed
walls and red-tiled roofs greeted us. The church and the market-place
were of the Third Republic. Sleepy cafes displayed enameled tin
advertisements of Paris drinks. The signs in front of the notions shop
declared the merits of rival Paris newspapers. But when we were
hunting out a vantage point from which to get the view of Cannes and
the Mediterranean, the Artist saw much to tempt his pencil. Back from
the main street, old Mougins survived, none the less charming from the
constant contrasts of old and new.

The arch of a city gate, perfectly preserved on one side, lost itself
in a modern building across the street. A woman, leaning out of a
window, wanted to know what the Artist was doing. I explained our
interest in the arch. Had there been a gate in her grandmother's time?
Why, when so much of a former age had disappeared, did this half-arch
remain? The woman was puzzled. It was incomprehensible that anyone
should be interested in the arch, which had always been there. I
thought I would try her on other subjects.

"Did many travelers come to Mougins from America?" I asked.

"Oh, yes. And you are an American, aren't you?"

Obviously America was a more interesting subject than archaeology.

While the Artist was finishing his sketch she chatted pleasantly with
me. Yes, she had often talked with American visitors. She revealed,
however, the French provincial's customary ignorance of our life and
asked the usual questions about o