red for the master, and he was then
able to extend his sphere of observation; but in the earlier days at
Oatlands his rambles were confined to the vicinity of Walton and
Weybridge. At the latter village he laid in a fresh stock of linen, and
was soon complaining of the exiguous proportions of English shirts. The
Frenchman, it should be remembered, is a man of many gestures, and
desires all possible freedom of action for his arms. His shirt is cut
accordingly, and a superabundance rather than a deficiency of material in
length as well as breadth is the result. But the English shirt-maker
proceeds upon different lines; he always seems afraid of wasting a few
inches of longcloth, and thus if the ordinary ready-made shirt on sale at
shops of the average class is dressy-looking enough, it is also often
supremely uncomfortable to those who like their ease. Such, at least, was
the master's experience; and in certain respects, said he, the English
shirt was not only uncomfortable, but indecorous as well. This astonished
him with a nation which claimed to show so much regard for the
proprieties.

The desire to clothe himself according to his wont became so keen that M.
Desmoulin decided to make an expedition to Paris. All this time Mme. Zola
had remained alone at the house in the Rue de Bruxelles, outside which,
as at Medan (where the Zolas have their country residence), detectives
were permanently stationed. Mme. Zola was shadowed wherever she went, the
idea, of course, being that she would promptly follow her husband abroad.
She had, however, ample duties to discharge in Paris. At the same time
she much wished to send her husband a trunkful of clothes as well as the
materials for a new book he had planned, in order that he might have some
occupation in his sorrow and loneliness.

Most people are by this time aware that M. Zola's gospel is work. In
diligent study and composition he finds some measure of solace for every
trouble. At times it is hard for him to take up the pen, but he forces
himself to do so, and an hour later he has largely banished sorrow and
anxiety, and at times has even dulled physical pain. He himself, heavy
hearted as he was when the first novelty of his strolls around Oatlands
had worn off, felt that he must have something to do, and was therefore
well pleased at the prospect of receiving the materials for his new book,
'Fecondite.'

At that date he certainly did not imagine that the whole of this work