g man's
sketch and to see in it an easy rendering of the silvery stream and the
vivid green rushes. The young wife had spread her shawl on the grass
at the base of a tree and meant to seat herself when he had left them,
meant to murmur Chenier's verses to the music of the gurgling river.
Longmore looked a while from one of these lucky persons to the other,
barely stifled a sigh, bade them good-morning and took his departure. He
knew neither where to go nor what to do; he seemed afloat on the sea of
ineffectual longing. He strolled slowly back to the inn, where, in
the doorway, he met the landlady returning from the butcher's with the
lambchops for the dinner of her lodgers.

"Monsieur has made the acquaintance of the dame of our young painter,"
she said with a free smile--a smile too free for malicious meanings.
"Monsieur has perhaps seen the young man's picture. It appears that he's
d'une jolie force."

"His picture's very charming," said Longmore, "but his dame is more
charming still."

"She's a very nice little woman; but I pity her all the more."

"I don't see why she's to be pitied," Longmore pleaded. "They seem a
very happy couple."

The landlady gave a knowing nod. "Don't trust to it, monsieur! Those
artists--ca na pas de principes! From one day to another he can plant
her there! I know them, allez. I've had them here very often; one year
with one, another year with another."

Longmore was at first puzzled. Then, "You mean she's not his wife?" he
asked.

She took it responsibly. "What shall I tell you? They're not des hommes
serieux, those gentlemen! They don't engage for eternity. It's none
of my business, and I've no wish to speak ill of madame. She's
gentille--but gentille, and she loves her jeune homme to distraction."

"Who then is so distinguished a young woman?" asked Longmore. "What do
you know about her?"

"Nothing for certain; but it's my belief that she's better than he. I've
even gone so far as to believe that she's a lady--a vraie dame--and that
she has given up a great many things for him. I do the best I can for
them, but I don't believe she has had all her life to put up with a
dinner of two courses." And she turned over her lamb-chops tenderly, as
to say that though a good cook could imagine better things, yet if you
could have but one course lamb-chops had much in their favour. "I shall
do them with breadcrumbs. Voila les femmes, monsieur!"

Longmore turned away with the feeling tha