Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1904-08-12


ter to her father Molly Randolph tells Of the
burning up Of her automobile by the Frenchmsn
masters and describes the details of their
visit to Ambose. Tours and Loches.
Jack Winston to Lord Lane.
Biarritz. December IL.
MY Dear Montie-I have let you rest a
good long time without letter mot that
Eve been taking a rest myself. and now l
should think you are opening your eyes
with establishment at the picture on my
paper of a hotel at beautiful, blowy Biar-
ritz. Thereby hangs tale of adventure
and miSadventure.
No doubt my fair employer believes me at
this moment to be consorting with couriers
In the servants hall Qf there be one) OF her
hotel But, as usual. 1 know a trick worth
two of that, and having washed his hands
of Brown for the time being. your friend
Jack sits smoking his pipe and writing 10
you in what is known as the monkey
house. of this hotel. AS you don't know
Biarritz, you'll think that in exchanging an
the comforts of a servants hall Tor d
monkey house l am not doing myself as
we'll as 1 might. But there are monkey
houses and monkey houses. This one Is d
delightful glass room built on to the front
of the hotel; facing garden and tennis
courts commanding a glorious view OF the
sea and also of every creature human and
inhuman, who goes by. One has tea In the
monkey house; one writes letters, reaos
novels, smokes or gossipS, according TO sex
and inclination; one can also be seen at
ones private avocations by the maddening
crowd outside the glass house. hence the
name.
The air is luminous with sunshine and
pungent with ozone. Great green roiiers
are marching in, to break in thunder on the
beach, and fling rainbow spouts of spray
over tumbled brown rocks. In the distance
the sea has all the coiors or a peacock ;
tail; the world is at its best, and ought
to be rejoicing In its hospitality: but I'm
not The fact is. I'm upset in my MIND.
I'm over head and ears In love, ana as
there's no hope of scrambling out again
U'm hanged If 1 would, even If could) OF
| of getting my feet on solid ground mere
beauty of landscape and seascape appears
slightly irrelevant.
/ { I wouldn't bother you with my dlfncuities'
which, admit are mostly my own fault
and serve me right for beginning wrong,
but you asked in your letter If you could
help me in any way; and 1t does help to let
off steam. You are my safety-valye, olo
man.
You will have had my hasty line from
Angouleme birthplace of witch stories and
of Miss Randolphs beloved Francis the
First telling you how we got rid OF eye
lashes I don't think we shall ever en-
counter that beautiful young vision again,
and 1 sincerely hope that we shall be
spared others of his kind, but one never
| lean girl at the. helm. +! told you
also of our doings among the chateaus
Altogether. that was an idyliic Tune;
| and still. though l have been grumoiins
to YOU lust now. when 1 can shut my eyes
to tomorrow. I haven't much fault to nnd
with fate You remember that weird story
of Hawthorne's about the man VINO walked
out of his own house one morning, TOOK
lodgings in a neighboring street, disguised
himself, and watched for years the agony
of hts wife, who gave him up for dead?
At last the desire for home came over him
again; he knocked at his own door and
went in; there the story ends.
My position is like that Of Hawthorne
| hero. without the tragedy. When shall I
return to my own home? I cannot tell. l
have stepped out of my own sphere into
another and sometimes I have an odd sense
of detachment as If I were floating in a
void 1t is only when 1 am writing to you
or when I get letters from the world l
have left that I feel the link which unites
me with the past. Since left Paris I have
had only four letters from my world. which
have fallen into Browns world like strange
reminders of another existence. L have
had your own welcome words. and a letter
from my mother at Cannes q gave her my
address at Poitiers) telling me of the ar
rival there Of Jabez Barrow with his lone
fair daughter" and urging me to haste.
AS If should rush from the society Of the
goddess in the car to the opulent charms
On both senses) Of Miss Barrow! 1t appears
that Jabez the Rich does not care for Can
nes but signs for Italy, and that my mother
has promised to personally conduct" them
before they leave or If that's impossible. to
abandon my car and follow by rail to Rome,
lest miss this great chance" I am not
surprised at this move. My dear mother.
when the travelling fit is upon her. is moth
ing IL not erratic. She Is here today, and,
having seen the charms of another place
advertised on a poster, Is gone tomorrow
On getting this letter a happy inspiration
came into my mind. 1t had been the more
or less vague intention of the goddess. after
inspecting the castles of the Loire, to steer
for Lyons, arriving at Nice by way of
Grenoble. I offered the willy suggestion,
however, that 1t would make a more varied
and less ''obvious" tour IL we went down
by Bordeaux and BiarritZ, snatched
glimpse of Spain. travelled along the foot
of the Pyrenees to Marseille, and so reach
the Riviera by this long detour. The word
Obvious" is a black beast to an American
girl, who will be original or nothing; there
fore my suggestion is in the way of being
carried out. I've written to my mother
that can't reach Cannes before she her
self leaves for Rome; thus gain time. Still,
the day of discourse must come at last.
and the longer It's put of the less like to
think about 1t.
The goddess (alias Miss Randolph is stay
ing with her anut at the "Angleterre."
have skunk of here. having arranged mat.
tiers with the hall porter at the other place.
who will, If my mistress wants me. send
messenger DOSl-laSte. meanwhile the car
reposes in a garage, where 1t Is kept clean
and in running order without any trouble
to me- AS 1 have gradually drifted into the
position of Miss Randolph's courier as well
as her chauffeur. can plan these things as
1 like. for she never glances at her bills.
which I settle, giving an account every
few days. Do you recall your own story of
the conscientious Yankee from the country
who failed in his efforts to eat straight
through the menu at a Paris hotel dinner.
and appealed to the waiter to know whether
he might now skip from thar to thar"
Well, I would skip on my menu from
Loches to Biarritz; but you were to have
been my companion on this trip, and you
cry for details.
From Loches we took q cross-country
route which brought us out in the main
road from Tours to Bordeaux at DANCE.
There isn't much to say about that run,
except that 1t was through agreeable, un-
dulating country with wide horizons. like
q thousand other undulations and horizons
in France. At La Haye-Descartes we struck
a pretty picture when crossing bridge
over the river Grouse. The setting sun had
performed the miracle Of turning the water