ing it," the usual crowd gathered around: children
whose lack of bashfulness indicated that many city people were here for
the season or that tourists did find their way up to Cagnes; women always
eager to gossip with strangers, especially with those from lands across
the sea; old men proud to tell you that their city was the most
interesting, because the most ancient, on the Riviera.

When we resumed our climb, the whole town seemed to be going our way.
Sunday-best and prayer-books gave the reason. Just as we were coming to
the top, our street made its first turn, a sharp one, and in the bend was
a church tower with a wee door under it. Houses crowded closely around
it. The tower was the only indication of the church. An _abbe_ was
standing by the door, calling in the acolytes and choir boys who were
playing tag in the street. The Artist stopped, short. I went up to the
_abbe_, who by features and accent was evidently a Breton far from home.

"Do any fat men live up here?" I asked.

"Only one," he answered promptly, with a hearty laugh. "The _cure_ has
gone to the war, and last month the bishop sent a man to help me who
weighs over a hundred kilos. We have another church below in the new
town, and there are services in both, morning and afternoon. Low mass
here at six, and high masses there at eight and here at ten. Vespers
here at three and there at four-thirty. On the second Sunday my
coadjutor said he was going to leave at the end of the month. So, after
next week, there will be no fat man. Unless you have come to Cagnes to
stay?" The _abbe_ twinkled and chuckled.

"It is not to laugh at," broke in an oldest inhabitant who had overheard.
"We live from ten to twenty years longer than the people of the plain,
who have railways and tramways and carriages and autos right to their
very doors. We get the mountain air from the Alps and the sea air from
the Mediterranean uncontaminated. It blows into every house without
passing through as much as a single neighbor's courtyard. But our long
lease on life is due principally to having to climb this hill.
Stiffness, rheumatism--we don't know what it means, and we stay fit right
to the very end. Look at me. I was a grown man when people first began
to know who Garibaldi was in Nice. We formed a corps of volunteers right
here in this town when Mazzini's republic was proclaimed to go to defend
Rome from the worst enemies of Italian unity, those Vatican--But I