Open air sermons are sometimes the best.
At the bottom of the hill, a tall woman, bearing an enormous earthenware jar perched sideways upon her head, appeared suddenly; and an intelligent boy of thirteen or fourteen also passing, was pounced upon by No. 3 to make known her wish to the countrywoman that she should pause a moment to be sketched.
The black-eyed woman laughed shyly, but after a moment's hesitation consented, understanding apparently that it was her big pot only which was the attraction. But no sooner did she find out that her face also was to be inserted in the sketch, than, with unfeigned fright, she covered it with her hands and prepared to run away.
A short argument followed, in which both No. 3 and her interpreter endeavoured vainly to reassure the model; but it proved useless, and, still keeping her hands before her brown face, she presently hurried off, regardless of the sneers of her juvenile but more highly educated countryman.
"What on earth frightens her?" asked No. 3.
"How can I tell, mademoiselle? Behold, these country women are so ignorant and stupid!" replied this youthful Solon, with a shrug.
"Do they believe in the evil eye in Corsica?"
"Maybe. A few foolish ones."
"Perhaps she does?"
"It may be so, mademoiselle. She is but an uneducated woman from the hillside."