However, enough of this, henceforth I hope to have to think of and report on the up-wave only.
I am seated in a little room close to the window—and as I look out I first see the boughs of a gigantic sycamore through which the mistral is roaring with a noise like a gale at sea. Beyond this is a line of cypresses, and apparently within a stone’s throw are the extraordinary wildly fantastic mountain-peaks of St. Remy. I have never seen anything like them. No wonder they are called the Dolomites of France. They are, too, in aspect unspeakably ancient and remote.
We are practically in the country, and in every way, with its hill-air and beauty, the change from Tarascon is most welcome.... There is a strange but singularly fascinating blend of north and south here just now. The roar of the mistral has a wild wintry sound, and the hissing of the wood fire is also suggestive of the north: and then outside there are the unmistakable signs of the south and those fantastic unreal like hills. I never so fully recognise how intensely northern I am than when I am in the south....”
The following fragment of a diary—all there is for 1897—gives a record of the work he had in progress: also shows his way of noting (or not noting!) his outgoing expenses:
January 1st, 1897.—A day of extreme beauty at Sainte-Maxime (Var). In the morning wrote letters etc., and then walked into Sainte-Maxime and posted them, and sent a telegram to Elizabeth, to be delivered at dinner time, with New Year greetings and Fair Wishes.
Worked at “Ahez the Pale,” and, having finished the revision of it from first to last, did it up with “The Archer,” and then sent (with long letter of general instructions about the re-issue of F. M.’s tales in 3 vols., Spiritual Tales, Barbaric Tales, and Tragic Romances) to Lilian Rea, at the Outlook Tower.
After dinner went a long walk by the sea. Noticed a peculiarity by which tho’ the sea was dead calm, and on the eastern side of the littoral of Ste. Maxime made hardly a ripple, the noise on the further side was like that of a rushing train or of a wind among pinewoods. I walked round, and found oily waves beating heavily on the shore. Tidal, possibly. Expenses today: Letters 3.90, Telegrams 5.90, Poor Man 30. Board &c., at hotel.
Total ” ”.
After his return to London he wrote to Mrs. Janvier:
Grosvenor Club,