ll, but I know one man of the north who is going to
seek his bed."

Before reaching the Hotel Beau-Site, however, a street on the left
attracted us. It seemed to end in a flight of steps that dipped under
arches, and we could hear the swift rush of water. We were not so sleepy
as we thought, for both of us were still willing to explore. The steps
led to the flour mill. We followed the mill-race until we reached the
Grasse tram road near the river. By the tram station, a light was
shining from the open door of a cafe in a wooden shanty. We went in, and
found Villeneuve-Loubet's officer of the Legion of Honor smoking his pipe
over a cup of _tilleul_.

"There has been an accident in the gorge of the Loup," he said. "The
last tram from Grasse was derailed, and two automobiles from Cagnes went
up an hour ago. As I am the _maire_, I must wait for news. There may be
something for me to do."

Monsieur le Maire told us that he had spent his life in the West African
coast trade, with headquarters in Marseilles. If he had stayed there to
end his days, he would have been one of a hundred thousand in a great
city, cast aside and ignored by the new generation. But in his native
_pays_ he was in the thick of things. To return to their old home is not
wholly a question of sentiment with Frenchmen who retire from business in
the city or the colonies. Money goes farther, and one can be an
official, with public duties and honors, and enjoy the privilege of
writing on notepaper bearing the magic heading, _Republique Francaise_.
Monsieur le Maire told us that the chatelain came often, and never forgot
to invite him to meet the guests at the castle. Some years ago I used to
think that it was a peculiar characteristic of the French to enjoy being
made much of and exercising authority. But since I have traveled in my
own and many other countries I have come to realize that this
characteristic is not peculiarly French.

When Monsieur le Maire spoke of the chatelain, I had my opening. Full of
the idea of the men of the north seeking the sun, I was ready to spread
to others the impression I had made upon myself of my own erudition and
cleverness. At the risk of boring the Artist, I repeated and enlarged
upon my deductions from the inscription of the March-Tripoly de
Panisse-Passis. Monsieur le Maire looked at me with malicious amazement.

"_La-la-la!_" he cried. "Not so fast. You haven't got it right at all,
at all, at al