to be in this place, famous for rich Provencal cooking.
Whereas Monsieur Mistral looks as if he would grudge more than half an
hour on an occupation so prosaic as eating."

"Nothing could be prosaic to him," said Mr. Dane. "And that's the secret
of life, isn't it? I think you have it, too, and I'm trying to take
daily lessons from you. By the time we part I hope I shan't be quite
such a sulky, discontented brute as I am now."

"By the time we part!" The words gave me a queer, horrid little prick,
with just that nasty ache that comes when you jab a hatpin into your
head instead of into your hat, and have got to pull it out again. I have
grown so used to being constantly with him, and having him look after me
and order me about in his dictatorial but curiously nice way, that I
suppose I shall rather miss him for a week or two when this odd
association of ours comes to an end.

It is strange how one ancient town can differ utterly from its
neighbour, and what an extraordinary, unforgettable individuality each
can have.

The whole effect of Avignon is mediaeval. In Arles your mind flies back
at once to Rome, and then pushes away from Rome to find Greece. All
among the red, pink, and yellow houses, huddled picturesquely together
round the great arena, you see Rome in the carved columns and dark piles
of brick built into mediaeval walls. The glow and colour of the shops and
houses seem only to intensify the grimness and grayness of that Roman
background, the immense wall of the arena. Greece you see in the eyes of
the beautiful, stately women, young and old, in their classic features,
and the moulding of their noble figures. (No wonder Epistemon urged his
giant to let the beautiful girls of Arles alone!) You feel Greece, too,
in the soft charm of the atmosphere, the dreamy blue of the sky, and the
sunshine, which is not quite garish golden, not quite pale silver; a
special sky and special sunshine, which seem to belong to Arles alone,
enclosing the city in a dream of vanished days. The very gaiety which
must have sparkled there for happy Greek youths and maidens gives a
strange, fascinating sadness to it now, as if one felt the weight of
Roman rule which came and dimmed the sunlight.

It was delightful to walk the streets, to look at the lovely women in
their becoming head-dresses, and to stare into the windows of curiosity
shops. But there was the danger of committing _lese-majeste_ by running
into the arms of the brid