whatever they desired; and sometimes, when they were able to come on as
far as Les Baux, they would wish at the tomb to find the buried
Phoenician treasure, for which many had searched generation after
generation, since history began, but none had ever found.

I did not say anything about the gipsies at the inn-window, but I saw
now that Mr. Dane had done wisely in sticking to his post. A
sixty-horse-power Aigle might largely make up for a disappointment in
the matter of treasure, even if she had to be towed down into the valley
by a horse.

"Calve, and all the great singers, come here sometimes by moonlight in
their motors," went on the guide, "after the great musical festival of
Orange in the month of August. They stand on the piles of stone among
the ruins when all is white under the moon, and they sing--ah! but they
sing! It is wonderful. They do it for their own pleasure, and there is
no audience except the ghosts--and me, for they allow me to listen. Yet
I think, if our eyes could be opened to such things, we would see
grouped round a noble company of knights and ladies--such a company as
would be hard to get together in these days."

"Well, I would rather sing here in August than April!" exclaimed Lady
Turnour, with the air of a spoiled prima donna. And then she shivered
and wanted to go down to the car without waiting for the sunset, which,
after all, could only be like any other mountain sunset, and she could
see plenty of better ones next summer in Switzerland. She felt so
chilled, she was quite anxious about herself, and should certainly not
dare to start for Avignon until she had had a glass of steaming hot rum
punch or something of that sort, at the inn. Did the guide think she
could get it--and have it sent out to her in the car, as nothing would
induce her to go inside that little den?

The guide thought it probable that something hot might be obtained,
though there might be a few minutes' delay while the water was made to
boil, as it would be an unusual order.

A few minutes! thought I, eagerly, looking at the sun, which was
hurrying westward. I knew what "a few minutes" at such an inn would
mean--half an hour at least; and apparently I was no longer needed as an
interpreter. Without a thought of me, now that I had ceased to be
useful, Lady Turnour slipped her arm into her husband's for support (her
high-heeled shoes and the rough, steep streets had not been made for
each other), and began trotting