"Shall I lure the children away?" asked Riviere as he raised his soft felt hat.

"Thanks--it would be a relief," answered Elaine, but with a coldness in her greeting that struck him as curious.

A few coppers scattered the children; the peasant slunk sullenly away.

His eye and Riviere's met, but there was no recognition on the part of the latter.

"Are you working this morning?" asked Elaine presently.

"No, I'm learning." He nodded towards her sketch-book. "May I continue the lesson?"

"Compliments are barred," she replied stiffly. "I neither give nor take them."

Riviere groped mentally for the reason of this curious change of att.i.tude. Yesterday she had been frankly friendly; to-day she held herself distinctly aloof. Had he offended her in some way?

He continued soberly. "I'm not paying insincere compliments. It isn't your sketch which interests me so much as your method of sketching. The directness of it. The way you get to the heart of the subject without worrying over detail. The incisiveness. I'm mentally applying your method to the problems of my own work.... To stand here and watch you sketching is pure selfishness on my part."

"Like other men, you imagine that women can't get beyond detail." A flush had come into her voice. "All through the ages men have been learning from women and refusing to acknowledge it."

"In which sphere?"

"In every sphere."

"Particularize."

"Take novel-writing. Men sneer at the woman-novelist--say that she cannot draw a man to the life."

"It's largely true."

"What's the reason? Because one can't draw to any satisfaction without models to base on. Because a man never lets a woman into his innermost thoughts."

"That argument ought to cut both ways."

"It doesn't. Women give up their innermost secrets to men because----Well, because woman is the s.e.x that gives and man the s.e.x that takes. It's been bred in and in through the whole history of civilization."

"Woman the s.e.x that gives? That reverses the usual idea."

"You're thinking of the things that don't matter--money, jewels, dress, mansions, servants. Those are the cheap things that man gives in return for the gifts that are priceless."

Riviere shook his head. "You argue only from a limited knowledge of the world. There are plenty of women who take everything--_everything_--and give nothing in return. Perhaps you don't know such women. I do."

"You mean women of the underworld? They are as men make them."

"No, I'm thinking of _femmes du monde_. There are plenty of virtuous married women who are as grasping as the most soulless underworlder.

Probably you don't see them. You look at the world in a magic crystal that mirrors back your own thoughts and your own personality in different guises. You see a thousand YOU's, dressed up as other people."

Elaine had become very thoughtful. "My magic crystal--yes." she mused.

"But surely everyone has his or her crystal to look into."

"Some can keep crystal-vision and reality apart. That's 'balance' ...

And there lies the failure of the feminists--in 'balance.' They make up a bundle of all the iniquities of human nature, and try to dump it on man's side of the fence."

"I love argument, but art is long and my stay at Nimes very brief.

To-morrow I must move on to Orange."

"Then I'll not disturb you further. I expect you have a good deal to get through."

"Yes. This afternoon it's the Pont du Gard; this evening the Druids'

Tower."

"This evening! The place is very lonely at night-time."

"I know. But I must sketch it in moonlight. That's essential."

"Remember Arles," warned Riviere. "You ought not to be alone."

She nodded. "I know. But I have my work to do."

Riviere felt uneasy over the matter. He did not wish to urge an undesired escort upon her, but he did not like to think of her working alone by the solitude of the Druids' Tower at night-time.

"If I can be of any service to you while you are here at Nimes," he said, "you have only to send a note to the Villa Clementine."

With that he said good-bye and left her. It seemed evident that he had offended her in some way. Possibly, he thought, it was by asking her to write that letter to Olive. Though she had agreed willingly enough at the time, it was possible that afterwards she had regretted it. It had offended against her sense of right. Riviere felt distressed.

Then the remembrance came to him that this was the merest tourist acquaintanceship. To-morrow she would be leaving Nimes, and the episode would pa.s.s out of her thoughts. Probably they would never meet again. It was not worth further thought on either side.

Resolutely he banished all thoughts of Elaine from his mind, and concentrated on his own work-problems.

From the corner of a lane near the Maison Carree, Crau, the young Provencal, had been watching them keenly as they talked together.

CHAPTER XIV

BY THE DRUIDS' TOWER

Mme Giras, the proprietress of the Villa Clementine, was a rosy, smiling body, plumped and rounded in almost every aspect, and with a heart of gold. Yesterday it had been plain to her shrewd, twinkling eyes that monsieur and mademoiselle were soon to make a match of it. Of course it was very shocking that mademoiselle should be travelling about alone at her age, but much could be forgiven in so charming a young lady.

When Riviere returned to the villa for lunch, he found the table in the arbour laid for two, and by one plate a rose had been placed.

"I have prepared for two," said Mme Giras, smilingly. "Is it not right?"

"Thank you; but it will not be necessary," answered Riviere.

"After all my preparations! And the lunch that was to be my _chef d'oeuvre_!" There was keen disappointment in her voice. "But perhaps mademoiselle will be coming to dine this evening?"

"No, nor this evening. Mademoiselle is very busy with her work. She is to leave Nimes to-morrow."