“I suppose I was very silly to leave my friends and come alone to Nice. They wanted me to go with them, but I preferred this place to the Alps and mountain climbing, so I agreed to meet them at Paris, later. I said I was going to visit with some friends at Nice, but I believed I could take care of myself. Now I think differently.”
Her voice was so repentant and meek that Mr. Fabian said: “Maybe this lesson will prove to be the best one of your life. Let it teach you that head-strong ways are always sure to end in a pitfall. And remember, ‘that a wolf generally prowls about in sheep’s clothing to devour the innocent lamb.’ Thank goodness that you escaped the wolf—but thank Mr. Alexander for being that goodness.”
The others returned, now, and as there was nothing more to visit at Monte Carlo, they drove on to Nice to spend the night. The girls found Genevieve Van Buren a most congenial companion and everyone showed a keen desire to befriend her.
A telegram awaited her at Nice, and Mr. Alexander had the satisfaction of reading it. Her friends, to whom he had wired from Monte Carlo when he heard Genevieve’s story, said they would be at Paris the following day.
Before Mr. Fabian and his companions drove away from Nice, they saw the repentant girl safely on the train to Paris.
Having said good-by to Genevieve, the tourists left Nice; they drove to Marseilles and the girls visited several mills where famous textiles are woven.
Cannes was the next place the cars passed through, and then Aix was reached. Mr. Fabian wished to stop long enough at this city, which was founded B.C. 122 by a Roman named Sextius Calvinus, to show his students the ruins and historic objects of antiquity.
At Avignon the tourists saw the famous bridge and the many notable and ancient buildings—some ruins having remained there since the town was founded by the Phœnicians in 600 B.C.
They stopped over-night at Avignon, and early in the morning, started cross-country for Bordeaux. The roads were heavy and the travelling slow, and they found it necessary to stop at the peasants’ homes and ask, to make sure they were on the right road. At several of these stops, Mr. Fabian and the girls acquired some old bits of pottery and porcelain which the poor people were glad to sell, and the collectors were over-joyed to buy.
All along the country route from Marseilles, the women seen wore picturesque costumes, with heavy wooden shoes on their feet. These shoes were lined with sheep-skin to protect the instep from bruises. The children playing about their homes were scantily clothed, but their rosy faces and plump little bodies spoke plainer than words, that they were healthy and happy, and cared naught for style.