Triumphal
Archway and the gracious Monument we had come out to see.

Both looked more Greek than Roman, but that was because Greek workmen
helped to build them for Julius Caesar, when he determined that posterity
should not forget his defeat of great Vercingetorix, and should do
justice to the memory of Marius.

When I was small I used to dislike poor Vercingetorix, and be glad that
he had to surrender, so that I might be rid of him, owing to the
dreadful difficulty of pronouncing his name; but when we had got out of
the car, and I saw him on the archway, a tall, carved captive, who had
kept his head through all the centuries, while Caesar (with a hand on the
prisoner's shoulder) had lost his, my heart softened to him for the
first time.

I thought the Triumphal Monument to Marius even more beautiful than the
Archway, and felt as angry as Marius must, that the guide-books should
take it away from the hero and wrongfully call it a mausoleum for
somebody else. But Mr. Dane assured me with the obstinate air people
have when learned authorities back their opinions, that the Arch was
really the more interesting of the two--the first Triumphal Archway set
up outside Italy, said he, and bade me reflect on that; still, I would
turn my eyes toward the graceful monument, so wickedly annexed by the
three Julii, and then away over the wide plain that lay beneath this
ragged spur of the Alpilles. In the distance I could see Avignon, and
the pale, opal-tinted, gold-veined hills that fold in the fountain of
Vaucluse. Never, since we came into Provence, had I been able so clearly
to realize the wild fascination of her haggard beauty. "Here Marius
stood in his camp," I thought, "shading his eyes from the fierce sun,
and looking out over this strange, arid country for the Barbarians he
meant to conquer." My heart beat with an intoxicating excitement, such
as one feels on seeing great mountains or the ocean for the first time;
and then down I tumbled, with a bump, off my pedestal, when Lady Turnour
wanted to know what I supposed she'd brought me for, if not to put on
her extra cloak without waiting to be told.

Watches are really luxuries, not necessities, with the Turnours, because
their appetites always strike the hour of one, and if they're sometimes
a little in advance, they can be relied upon never to be behindhand. I
knew before I glanced at the little bracelet-watch Pamela gave me
(hidden under my sleeve) that it must be on th