The day drew on, and the peasants were already leading away their cattle. They went along in single file, in front of their yoked oxen, slow as a procession. The dust they raised settled on the trees in white powder.
“You may say what you please, Will,” Ethel continued; “it may be all very peaceable if you compare it with the Stock Exchange, but it’s not so compared with Camp Rosemont.”
“We shall go to see you soon,” said Mlle. Yvonne; “you know that every one is talking about it in the town. They tell wonders of it!”
“I am sorry you cannot come to stay with us, Yvonne. I so wish you had been there the other day. I got up an open-air lunch for the village children; and the way they played and laughed! We wound up everything by dancing a great round. Sometimes autos come; and you’d almost think you were at a gymkhana of the Bois de Boulogne. Then I’ve begun my water-colors again. If you would come, Yvonne, we’d make Suzanne pose in her costume as a Pierrette.”
“Ce diable! That’s what grand’mère would say. She’d never be willing!”
“But we should be with you, you know—no ugly man—”
“With an exception for me, I hope?” Will put in.
“And if Suzanne or Helia should pose, after all, what harm could there be?” continued Ethel. “I know very well there are prejudices,—and don’t let’s be too severe on them; prejudice is the counterfeit brother of good sense; hump-backed and with horns, sometimes even without pity. Think of Helia, who wears a more than royal or imperial mantle—beauty! It is impossible that so much beauty should not go along with virtue also; and yet, no!—un diable, Mme. de Grojean would say!”
“Ah!—in such a profession!” said Yvonne.
“Ah!” said Ethel; “if Helia were an actress or a singer, she would wear crowns and recite high-sounding verses; and the poets would give her prestige in real life. But she has neither diamonds nor jewels; with her full complement of arms, she is only a Venus de Milo in a silk maillot!”