The chauffeur and I did not speak often, but
I looked up at him sometimes because of the pleasure I had in seeing and
re-seeing the face in which I had come to have perfect confidence; and I
fancied from its expression that he felt as I felt.
So we came to Les Vignes, and lunched together at a table set out of
doors, close to the car, that she might not be left alone. We had for
food a strange and somewhat evil combination; wild hare and wild boar;
but they seemed to suit the landscape somehow, as did the mystical music
of the conch-shells, blown by passing boatmen. It was like being waked
from a dream of old-time romance, by a rude hand shaking one's shoulder,
to hear the voices of Sir Samuel and Lady Turnour, he mildly arguing,
she disputing, as usual.
Poetry fled like a dryad of some classic wood, scared by a motor
omnibus; and, though the gorge as far as Le Rozier was magnificent, and
the road all the way to Millau beautiful in the sunset, it was no longer
_our_ gorge, or _our_ road. That made a difference!
CHAPTER XXIV
There was a telegram from "Bertie" at Millau.
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