xpected corners until you have lost
your sense of direction. Branches of trees stick out over garden walls
overhung with vines. Many of the largest hotels can be reached only by
these _chemins_. You realize that the city has grown haphazard, and
that no methodical city architect was allowed to make boulevards and
streets that would disturb the seclusion of the villa-builders, who
plotted out their grounds with never a thought of those who might later
build higher up. So roads skirted properties. The result does not
commend itself to those who are in a hurry. But it gives suburban
Cannes an aspect unique on the Riviera. Many of the hotels thus hidden
away are built on private estates, and if you want to get to them you
have to follow all the curves.

The labyrinthine approach adds greatly to the delight of a climb to La
Californie. If you go by carriage, unless you have a map, you are
tempted to feel that the _cocher_ is taking a roundabout route to
justify the high price he asked you. But if you go afoot--and without
a map--you may find yourself back at the point of departure before you
know it. But however extended your wanderings, the beauty of the roads
is ample compensation, and when you reach at last the Square du
Splendide-Panorama, nearly eight hundred feet above the city, you are
rewarded by a view of mountains and sea, from Nice to Cap Roux, which
makes you say once more--as you have so often done in Riviera
explorations--"This is the best!"

After lunch at the observatory we decided to walk on to Vallauris and
look up our friend of Antibes at the pottery. A _cocher_ without a
fare persuaded us to visit the aqueduct at Clausonne en route to
Vallauris. He painted the glories of the scenery and of Roman masonry.
"You will never regret listening to me," he urged. We followed the
wave of his hand, and climbed meekly aboard, although at lunch we had
been carrying on an antiphonal hymn of praise to the pleasure and
benefit of shanks' mare.

We did not regret abandoning our walk. I managed to get the Artist by
the Chapelle de Saint-Antoine on the Col de Vallauris and to limit him
to a hasty _croquis_ of the Clausonne Aqueduct. We were out for
pleasure, with no thought of articles. When you feel that you are
going to have to turn your adventures to a practical use, it does take
away from the sense of relaxation that a writer like anyone else craves
for on his day off. On the road to Vallauris we wer