The times. [volume] (Washington [D.C.]) 1897-1901, 1900-08-26

US al Nontp31naSSe.
For some reason. or not reason at all,
the name she spoke so happily irritated
Edmund. and he could only think of Mont
parnasse in the aspect OF 4 mountain very
hard indeed to climb Veronica noticed
his depression, and told herself she rad
done quite right TO force lin. Almost
against his viii. TO take holiday.
Only think how lucky you were to get
your picture hung" she said. with a nod
IN tn direction Of the Gaiaiie d77 NJ chi IS
and the Salon. And next year yoa may be
even still more fortunate"
II seemed a fault in Veronica that she
should always take a cheerful view Of
things. Edmunds lip curled SIX pticaly in
4 sort Of pity for her. She was so SAN
guine. The thought of the Salon gave
him Joy, and he could only think of his
own picture as a single puny effort
swamped among seven thousand o-he- caa-
vases. He was filled with a sense OF the
vanity of all endeavors. In a hundred ars
what would be the use of ell this striving?
What would remain of these square miles
Of paint? Yet at the same time ne could
not be indifferent, or sit by with folded
hands. He must lash himself to work and
work and work. He ought TO be working
now instead of stupidity turnirg his back on
his opportunities. Why had he been so
weak as to allow Veronica to over-per-
suaGe him to waste his time up the river?
He felt angry at her happy prattle; angry
at the sunshine and the sparkle Of the
water; angry at his own danger. Veronica
looked at him again, and tod herself that
it WIS 4 good thing she had insisted on a
change. Tomorrow morning h would be %
much better. The beautiful keen air Of tn
nigh plain in the bend Of the river would
brace and refresh him; he would forget all
his worries in the delights Of the quaint
old-world place which the Seine spread
itself into two arms 10 protect. The old mill
among the qCarries-how oft she had
dreamed about and Iongei for it, Three
years ago when she had stayed there with
a girl friend. she had resolved that if she
ever found the lover OF her dreams she
would on the first opportunity discover
to him this place. And now the oppor-
tunity had come. She had seized and made
it. Soon, where the boat touched the last
station. they would disemhark and climb
the steep streets of a small town. At the
summit of Mont Valerin. crowned with its
great fcEt, they would turn to plance at
Paris in the golden afternoon. They
would ;rudge an hour or so through fl sld
and by town. until they came once more
upon the river. in the middle bend Of
those serpsRtine curves in which il loops
back upon itself as il flows lingeringly
away from Paris. At the double ferry.
where you cross the two river branches
and the narrow island which divides them
they must put their hands to their mouths
and shout 1t might even be that they
would have to wait until the good-natured
crew OF some slow passing barge echoed
their cry and brought the ferrymaa run
ming across his island. 1t would be sunset
as they roEed across the water; sunset as
they climbed the stony white streets OF
the little tovn to the mill among the
vineyards. Edmund should rest then. Ii
would be she who would make all the ar
rangemeIts. and have the little table Sc:
in the garden among the lilies. How quiet
and peaceful it would be, after the rattle
of the noisy Boulevard. the squeak and
grcan of the tram horns, and the yelling
Of the newspaper vendors near the big
cafe opposite the hotel, They would sleep
long and wei tonight in the peace of the
silent plain, where the peasants in and
around the humble inn rested and rose
with their lord the sun.
But when the voyage was over. and it
was time for them 10 step out bravery.
Edmund tagged in the first mile We
ronica tried to think there was perhaps
thunder in the air. and that atmospheric
disturbance was at the root of his depres-
sion. He was so fatigued that on reaching
the ferry he allowed her to do all the
shouting and when the boat came he seat
ed himself so heavily that she felt 1t would
be a mockery to invite him to admire the
beauty OF the river. AS they crossed the
second branch they saw that the town was
en- fete and that the booths OF the fair had
been erected on the edge of the stream.
The lights we're as yet unlit, and it was
quiet and deserted now, while all the viii
lage was at supper; but as their way TO
the town led them past its tents and stalls,
Veronica's imagination was touched by
the prospects Of enjoyment they afforded,
and she expressed an innocent desire 10
Join in the revels after supper. Edmunds
lip curled at the absurdity Of the idea; he
sighed at the vanity Of all earthly things.
An old horse--a sorrowful. contemplative-
looking horse-who provided the motive
power and at the same time ground out
the music for the ring Of FESTIVE stee1s
who now poised motionless legs in the
merry go-rOund. was taking his supper like
the rest of the world. Edmund looked at
him with melancholy pity, almost as
though he saw in him fellow philosopher.
Poor beast, What did he think of it all ?
II was after supper in the tiny salon
behind the wineshop at the Mill. and while
Veronica fumbled among the contents Of
the small travelling bag she had brought
with her, Edmund looked on with an ex-
preston of mixed hopelessness and con-
tempt AS final resource she turned it
upside down upon the table and sorted out
the mingled litter of night apparel and
painting materials. There was the color
box, the rubber water bottle and lumber
and one or two small brushes-but no
thump on the bottom Of the bag no pull
ing out OF the lining or Feeling in crew.
ices. would reveal the presence Of the large
sable. 1t refused 10 be the good fairy
which would coniure brightness into her
world again, and she could only think OF
It as lying in dizziness and stupidity in the
drawer where she had overlooked it.
Another day wasted" exclaimed Ed
mund gloomily. Il cannot do a thing
without it,
I'm so sorry" she said alphabetically:
"I'll send a postcard to II. Richard and
he will post it early tomorrow. Shall we
go out now by the river and choose points
Of view?"
What's the good? We shall have more
on our hands than we know what TO do
with tomorrow. No; shall write letters"
But. Edmund. how dull, You didn't
come here to write letters!"
He did not answer. but tapping sharply
with a. knife upon a tumbier, ordered the
bonnie to bring an inkstand with the oof-
fee. Then with an air Of sternness he ar
ranged paper and envelopes before him
and began to write. Feeling a lump in
her throat, Veronica looked away from
him through the little glass pane at her
right. into the kitchen where the peasants
wore slipping festive glasses of coffee and
pctits verres Of Kirsch. The little bonnie
moved deity and gaily among them. FILL
ing up the tiny glasses out OF the long
ornamental glass bottle. while the fat
Madame waddled hither aand thither. with
her one remark-a dogmatic semi-ques-
tioning ertion-''C est bOn?" They were
all cheerful enough in the kitchen; IL was
only dull in the salon, where Eimund's
pen scratched horribly on the paper. Sud
denly Veronica felt that she could endure
II no longer. She rose a little noisily but