It seemed clear that for some cryptic reason I ought to have
been an artist. Accordingly, I thought it best to bow.
He seemed childishly pleased with his acumen.
"Monsieur will understand," he explained, "that before the war we sold
tickets to many artists, who, like monsieur, desired to paint the old
mill on the stream near Bleau. It has appeared at the Salon many times,
that mill! Also, we have furnished tickets to archaeologists who desired
to see the ruins of the antique chapel, a veritable gem! But monsieur
has not an archaeologist's aspect. Therefore, monsieur is an artist."
"Perfectly," I agreed.
"As to the trains," he continued contentedly, "there is but one a day.
It departs at two and a half hours, upon the Le Moreau route. Monsieur
will be wise to secure, before leaving Paris, a safe-conduct from the
_prefecture_; for the village is, as one might say, on the edge of the
zone of war. With such a permit monsieur will find his visit charming;
regrettable incidents will not occur; undesirable conjectures about
monsieur's identity will not be roused.
Pages:
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123
124
125
126
127
128
129
130
131
132
133
134
135
136
137
138
139