"Down the broad road of red shale past meadows thick with violets."
We might have taken our time. Christine and Lloyd and Mimi came running to greet us, bringing with them little friends who had probably never before played with children from Paris. We did not need to ask what kind of a time they had been having. Children are the true cosmopolitans. Hope lay under a tree on her blanket playing with her pink shoes. Nearby, at a table in front of the Café de la Porte, Léonie was treating the cocher and the postman to a glass of beer.
"I got bread and honey and milk for the children's goûter," explained Léonie, "and Monsieur le cocher and I are having ours with Monsieur le facteur."
As the children did not seem to be tired and the cocher was in no hurry, Helen and I made a tour of the walls, and took a photograph of our handicaps and their faithful attendants in front of the great gate built by Francis I, who prized Saint-Paul-du-Var as the best spot to guard the fords of the river against Charles V.
A reader of this manuscript declares that the chapter on Vence ought to be struck out.
"They [I suppose she means the home folks] will never understand," she insists.
I am adamant.
"When they come to the Riviera, they will understand," I answer.
Between Saint-Raphaël and Menton the most sacred responsibilities do not weigh one down all the time.