LITMIR.BIZ

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said I, "was the headquarters of the British Expeditionary

       Force. From behind these walls——"

      "Don't talk," said Daphne, "or I shall make a mistake. Round to the left here. Wait a minute. No, that's right. And straight on. What a blessing this Michelin Guide is! Not too fast, Berry. Straight on. This ought to be Grande Rue." She peered out of the window. "Yes, that's right. Now, in a minute you turn to the left. … "

      After all, I reflected, we had to get to Rouen, and it was past mid-day.

      We had sworn not to lunch before we had passed Abbeville, so, since we had breakfasted betimes, I furtively encouraged my brother-in-law to "put her along." His response was to overtake and pass a lorry upon the wrong side, drive an unsuspecting bicyclist into a ditch and swerve, like a drunken sea-gull, to avoid a dead fowl. As we were going over forty it was all over before we knew where we were, but the impression of impending death was vivid and lasting, and nearly a minute had elapsed before I could trust my voice.

      "Are we still alive?" breathed Daphne. "I'm afraid to open my eyes."

      "I think we must be," said I. "At least, I'm still thirsty, if that's anything to go by."

      "I consider," said Berry, "that the way in which I extricated us from that impasse was little short of masterly. That cyclist ought to remember me in his prayers."

      "I don't want to discourage you," I said grimly, "but I shouldn't bank on it."

      The plan of Abbeville, printed in the Guide, was as simple to read as were my sister's directions to follow. At a critical moment, however, Berry felt unable to turn to the right.

      "The trouble is," he explained, as we plunged into a maze of back streets, "I've only got two hands and feet. To have got round that corner, I should have had to take out the clutch, go into third, release the brake, put out a hand, accelerate, sound the clarion and put the wheel over simultaneously. Now, with seven limbs I could have done it. With eight, I could also have scratched myself—an operation, I may say, which can be no longer postponed." He drew up before a charcuterie and mopped his face. "What a beautiful bunch of sausages!" he added. "Shall we get some? Or d'you think they'd be dead before we get to Rouen?"

      In contemptuous silence Daphne lowered her window, accosted the first passer-by, and asked the way. An admission that it was possible to reach the Neufchatel road without actually retracing our steps was at length extracted, and, after a prolonged study of the plan, my sister gave the word to proceed. Save that we twice mounted the pavement, grazed a waggon, and literally brushed an urchin out of the way, our emergence from Abbeville was accomplished without further incident.

      With the knowledge that, barring accidents, we ought to reach Rouen by half-past five, we ventured to devour a wayside lunch some ten minutes later.

      It was after Neufchatel that the surface of the great grey road argued neglect in no uncertain terms. For mile after mile, fat bulls of Basan, in the shape of gigantic pot-holes, gaped threateningly upon us. Berry, who was driving much better, did all that he could, but only a trick-cyclist could have picked his way between them. The car hiccoughed along piteously. …

      With the approach of darkness, driving became a burden, being driven a weariness of the flesh, and we were all thankful when we slid down a paved hill into the Cathedral City and, presently, past the great church and on to the very bank of the River Seine.

      The others had been awaiting us for nearly two hours.

      * * * * *

      "With this sun," said Adèle, "they ought to be glorious."

      Impiously I reflected that Berry was almost certainly enjoying his breakfast in bed.

      "I expect they will," I said abstractedly.

      Adèle slid an arm through mine.

      "It's very sweet of you to come with me, Boy."

      I stood still and looked at her.

      "You're a wonderful child," I said. "When you speak like that, I want to kick myself and burst into song simultaneously. I suppose that's Love."

      "I expect so," said Adèle mischievously.

      Five minutes later we were standing beneath the shadow of Chartres

       Cathedral.

      We had come, my wife and I, to see the windows. The day before had been dull, and what light there was had been failing when we had visited the shrine. To-day, however, was all glorious.

      If we had risen early, we had our reward.

      The place had become a gallery with jewels for pictures. Out of the sombre depths the aged webs of magic glowed with the matchless flush of precious stones. From every side colours we had not dreamed of enriched our eyes. To make the great west rose, the world herself might have been spoiled of her gems. Looking upon this mystery, no man can wonder that the art is lost. Clearly it went the way of Babel. For of such is the Kingdom of Heaven. Windows the sun was lighting were at once more real and more magnificent. Crimsons and blues, purples and greens, yellows and violets, blazed with that ancient majesty which only lives to-day in the peal of a great organ, the call of a silver trumpet, or the proud roll of drums. Out of the gorgeous pageant mote-ridden rays issued like messengers, to badge the cold grey stone with tender images and set a smile upon the face of stateliness. "Such old, old panes," says someone. "Six hundred years and more. How wonderful!" Pardon me, but I have seen them, and it is not wonderful at all. Beneath their spell, centuries shrink to afternoons. The windows of Chartres are above Time. They are the peepholes of Immortality.

      We returned to the hotel in time to contribute to a heated argument upon the subject of tipping.

      "It's perfectly simple," said Berry. "You think of what you would hate to have given before the War, double it, add forty per cent. for the increased cost of living, halve it because of the Exchange, ask them whether they'd like it in notes or gold, and pay them in postage-stamps."

      "I want to know," said Daphne, "what to give the chambermaid."

      "Eight francs fifty. That's the equivalent of half-a-crown before the

       War."

      "Nonsense," said his wife. "Five francs is heaps, and you know it."

      "I think it's too much," said Berry. "Give her one instead, and tell her you've hidden the rest in the bathroom and that, when she touches the towel-rail, she's warm."

      "As a matter of fact," said Jill uneasily, "it's all over. I've done it."

      There was a dreadful silence. Then—

      "Tell us the worst," said I, "and get it over."

      "I'm—I'm afraid I gave her rather a lot, but she had a nice face."

      "She had a nice step," said Berry. "I noticed that about five this morning."

      "How much?" said I relentlessly.

      Jill looked round guiltily.

      "I gave her fifty," she said.

      There was a shriek of laughter.

      "Did she faint?" said Berry. "Or try to eat grass, or anything?"

      Gravely Jill shook her head.

      "She talked a great deal—very fast. I couldn't follow her. And then she turned away and began to cry. I was so glad I'd done it."

      "So are we all," said Daphne.

      She was supported heartily.

      Jonah looked at his watch.

      "I suggest," he said, "that we start at eleven, then we shall fetch up in time to see the cathedral."

      "How far is Tours?" said Daphne.

      "Eighty-six miles."

      "Let's keep together to-day," said Jill. "It's much more fun."

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