s whilst remaining duly vigilant. On one point I
was still anxious, which was that M. Zola should be able to settle down
in a convenient retreat where him himself would enjoy all necessary
quietude; whilst we, Wareham and I, knowing him to be well screened from
his enemies, would be less liable to those 'excursions and alarums' which
had hitherto troubled us. As the next chapter will show, this
consummation was near at hand.

IX

A QUIET HOME AND A HAUNTED HOUSE

It was M. Zola himself who, after some stay at Oatlands, discovered, in
the course of his excursions with M. Desmoulin, a retreat to his liking.
It was a house in that part of Surrey belonging to a city merchant, who
was willing to let it furnished for a limited period. The owner met M.
Zola on various occasions and showed himself both courteous and discreet.

The details of the 'letting' were arranged between him and Mr. Wareham;
and my wife hastily procured servants for the new establishment. These
servants, however, did not speak French, and I settled with M. Zola that
my eldest daughter, Violette, should stay with him to act in some measure
as his housekeeper and interpreter. This was thrusting a young girl, not
quite sixteen, into a position of considerable responsibility, but I
thought that Violette would be equal to the task, provided she followed
the instructions and advice of her mother; and as she was then at home
for the summer holidays she was sent down to M. Zola's without more ado.

I shall have occasion to speak of her hereafter in some detail, in
connection with a very curious incident which marked M. Zola's exile.
Here I will merely mention that a Parisienne by birth and speaking French
from her infancy, it was easy for her to understand and explain the
master's requirements.

Like M. Zola, she was provided with a bicycle, and the pair of them
occasionally spent an afternoon speeding along leafy Surrey lanes and
visiting quaint old villages. The mornings, however, were devoted to
work, for it was now that M. Zola started on his novel, 'Fecondite,' the
first of a series of four volumes, which will be, he considers, his
literary testament.

These books, indeed, are to embody what he regards as the four cardinal
principles of human life. First Fruitfulness, as opposed to
neo-Malthusianism, which he holds to be the most pernicious of all
doctrines; next Work, as opposed to the idleness o