âItâs just because sheâs such a perfect lady. And what I need is a good sleep.â
She did not sleep then, but the quiet of the morning, the sunshine, the warm odours that rose from the kitchen-garden below, gradually soothed and raised her spirits. From where she sat she could see no further than the roofs of the village: she was in a little tree-encircled world, strange but delightful in its picturesqueness. A lovely world! Julia had no eye for detail; she could appreciate only such obvious effects as the bright clear green of the tree-tops, the flaming mass of the jasmine against a white wall; but what she enjoyed she enjoyed thoroughly. She liked the oleandersâthe pink ones better than the white; she admired the showy intention of the broken staircase; and it also struck her that her own white figure, against the dark blue cushions of her chair, must be making a very pleasant effect.
Here Julia paused. Beneath the agreeable surface of her thought stirred the consciousness of something lacking. What was it? She was very comfortable, she had ceased to worry about Susan, yet that wasnât enough. She wanted something more. What was it?
âOf course!â thought Julia, surprised at her own obtuseness.
There ought to be a man there. There ought to be a man to enjoy her white frock, to admire her sensibility when she pointed out the jasmine. It wasnât because she, Julia, couldnât do without one. She didnât want a man personally , but because in that lovely placeâwith its roses and terraces and no doubt lots of little hidden nooksâthe lack of one seemed such a waste.
At that moment, a man appeared.
2
Julia admired him greatly. He was young, deeply sunburnt, and dressed in a blue shirt, tan-coloured trousers, and sandalettes that had once been white. Over his shoulder was slung a light jacket, on his head he wore one of the coarse straw hats, shaped like sun-helmets, which Julia had noticed in the village. This, as he approached, he respectfully doffed.
âBonjour, Madame!â
Julia nodded affably. She hoped he was a gardener, for though obviously not a man to sit on the terrace with, she felt he would be nice to have about. He could carry cushions for her, light her cigarette; perhaps pick for her, and shyly present, bouquets of wild flowers.â¦
âBonjour, mon homme,â returned Julia graciously.
The young man grinned. The change was so suddenâthe flash of white teeth so altered, while illuminating, his countenanceâthat Julia received quite a shock. Though the hat was still in his hand, he now looked scarcely respectful at all: his regard was frankly admiring. He looked her over, evidently liked what he saw, and gave her what was practically a glad-eye. The French were like that, Julia knew, and one had to make allowances; but in a gardener it wasâwell, unsuitable.
âGo and get on with your work!â she said sharply. âAllez-vous en!â
He went at once (but apparently unabashed) towards the kitchen-garden gate; and in spite of her disapproval Julia could not help acknowledging that his figure, in its gay foreign clothes, lent a touch of picturesque interest to the landscape. Though not tall, he was very athletic: when he reached the gate he did not open it, but vaulted over. Julia heard his voice uplifted in French, apparently addressing one of the maidservants; a woman called back, a dog barked, and then all was still again.
âI bet heâs a terror in the village,â thought Julia.
The incident had quite woken her up, and she had just decided to go for a walk round the house when Susan reappeared at the other end of the terrace. Julia went towards her, and when they had metânot calling out, vulgarly, from a distanceâSusan gave her message.
âWould you like to come and see Grandmother? Iâm afraid Iâve been a long time, but sheâd gone to sleep again.â
âI nearly slept,
She did not sleep then, but the quiet of the morning, the sunshine, the warm odours that rose from the kitchen-garden below, gradually soothed and raised her spirits. From where she sat she could see no further than the roofs of the village: she was in a little tree-encircled world, strange but delightful in its picturesqueness. A lovely world! Julia had no eye for detail; she could appreciate only such obvious effects as the bright clear green of the tree-tops, the flaming mass of the jasmine against a white wall; but what she enjoyed she enjoyed thoroughly. She liked the oleandersâthe pink ones better than the white; she admired the showy intention of the broken staircase; and it also struck her that her own white figure, against the dark blue cushions of her chair, must be making a very pleasant effect.
Here Julia paused. Beneath the agreeable surface of her thought stirred the consciousness of something lacking. What was it? She was very comfortable, she had ceased to worry about Susan, yet that wasnât enough. She wanted something more. What was it?
âOf course!â thought Julia, surprised at her own obtuseness.
There ought to be a man there. There ought to be a man to enjoy her white frock, to admire her sensibility when she pointed out the jasmine. It wasnât because she, Julia, couldnât do without one. She didnât want a man personally , but because in that lovely placeâwith its roses and terraces and no doubt lots of little hidden nooksâthe lack of one seemed such a waste.
At that moment, a man appeared.
2
Julia admired him greatly. He was young, deeply sunburnt, and dressed in a blue shirt, tan-coloured trousers, and sandalettes that had once been white. Over his shoulder was slung a light jacket, on his head he wore one of the coarse straw hats, shaped like sun-helmets, which Julia had noticed in the village. This, as he approached, he respectfully doffed.
âBonjour, Madame!â
Julia nodded affably. She hoped he was a gardener, for though obviously not a man to sit on the terrace with, she felt he would be nice to have about. He could carry cushions for her, light her cigarette; perhaps pick for her, and shyly present, bouquets of wild flowers.â¦
âBonjour, mon homme,â returned Julia graciously.
The young man grinned. The change was so suddenâthe flash of white teeth so altered, while illuminating, his countenanceâthat Julia received quite a shock. Though the hat was still in his hand, he now looked scarcely respectful at all: his regard was frankly admiring. He looked her over, evidently liked what he saw, and gave her what was practically a glad-eye. The French were like that, Julia knew, and one had to make allowances; but in a gardener it wasâwell, unsuitable.
âGo and get on with your work!â she said sharply. âAllez-vous en!â
He went at once (but apparently unabashed) towards the kitchen-garden gate; and in spite of her disapproval Julia could not help acknowledging that his figure, in its gay foreign clothes, lent a touch of picturesque interest to the landscape. Though not tall, he was very athletic: when he reached the gate he did not open it, but vaulted over. Julia heard his voice uplifted in French, apparently addressing one of the maidservants; a woman called back, a dog barked, and then all was still again.
âI bet heâs a terror in the village,â thought Julia.
The incident had quite woken her up, and she had just decided to go for a walk round the house when Susan reappeared at the other end of the terrace. Julia went towards her, and when they had metânot calling out, vulgarly, from a distanceâSusan gave her message.
âWould you like to come and see Grandmother? Iâm afraid Iâve been a long time, but sheâd gone to sleep again.â
âI nearly slept,
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