Pictures and the Picturegoer (Jan-Dec 1924)

18 Pictures and Pichjrepoer NOVEMBER 1924 alchemy of traditional touch. The archways are still standing, and a little way from there are the ruins of the ancient mortuary chapel, where the mother of William the Conqueror is purported to be buried. We were told a legend to the effect that this lady retired into a ccnvent at some time during her later maturity and was there interred. To-morrow we start back to Paris Paris, August \4th. /^\ne very charming thing happened ^^^ to me this morning. One of the very many charming things Hebertot has done for me since I have been in Paris. I admired tremendously a marvellous Dauberman-Pincher dog of his and this morning he sent his chauffeur to me with another dog of the same species, an equally beautiful specimen. He came in person a little later, and asked me how I liked him. I told him I was quite mad about the animal and would like to buy him. Hebertot told me that I must accept him " as a present, a souvenir," and now I am the proud possessor of Kabar. Natacha and I named him after considerable eager discussion. You might have thought that it was the christening of a child, so particular we were about the suitability of the name to the beast. Another member of our family to travel with us ! And to-morrow we start on our journey. We have planned to make Avignon our first stop en route to Nice and Natacha's parents. \Y/e leave Paris. We leave by road v who did arrive by air ! I left London with a sort of sombre joy of regret, if that is quite clear. A heavy melancholy shot with a heavy joy that I had walked the London pavements and breathed the London air. I shall leave Paris jauntily, with a smile and a wave, even as, jauntily and happily, Paris saluted me upon my arrival. The spirit of Paris is young and triumphant over heartbreak and despair. Vive la France ! Vive la France ! And to-morrow we turn our faces to the South ! Nice, August ISth. /^\ur first night in Nice, at the Chateau ^^^ Juan Les Pins, was a wonderfully restful one, following, as it did, the fatigue of the motor trip from Paris. We were both glad to get there. We left Paris with one extra dog, the Pincher-Dauberman given us by M. Hebertot; with several extra "bits" of baggage containing mostly, Natacha's Poiret gowns, with a heart full of regret and with as many good wishes and invitations to return as we could absorb. We had come to court Paris as a half-shy stranger. We left her as a warm friend to whom we hope soon to return Our first stop was at Avignon. We stopped there and had a most delicious luncheon. The inns in France are the places where you get the best food. Small towns. Small inns. Unforgetable spots. The wine of the region is Chablis and it is served in carafes instead of in bottles. Since we left America we have not had a cocktail. 1 have said before that the French do not go in for what is commnly known as " strong drink." The strong drinking one hears about in Paris is not done by Frenchmen, but by tourists who have their own shakers and use 'em if they want a good one ! The country we rode through en route to Nice was simply a town with beautiful castles. They stood here, there and everywhere, like gigantic flowers of stone, flowers of an age fore •3* gone, but scarce forgotten. Almost every hill, peaking against the low-leaning sky, has some chateau, some beautiful country places. Places where you feel as though you should linger, should absorb, so that going on, you would surely not forget. We put up for the night at Bourges and the next morning took the road to Nice. Mcst of our route I had planned carefully ahead of time, charting our eating places and resting places as nearly as might be. But now and then I would be behind schedule or ahead of schedule and we would have to go adventuring for the spot whereon to rest our weary heads. (Continued on page 60.) Natacha Rambova Valentino and her Pekes outside the chateau.