At an easel heside . him a tall : youth, nervously indus-
trious, was at work on a large canvas. A harbour of blue. water and white ships, animated as celebrities at a theatrical garden party, basked in a Mediterranean heat. There was as yet no sky :. poised unconvincingly in space, an incomplete seagull flourished a solitary wing. Behind the harbour, a white road twisted itself among lemon houses, a chessboard of coloured roofs. Tamarisks and judaS-trees detached themselves from the mass of masonry and were sentinels over the drowsy seaport. As in the first picture, the name Clonard already grinned persuasively from the corner. The painter gave a last touch to the wing of the seagull and relaxed on his stool. Peeping. cautiously over his shoulder, he peered towards the far corner of the room. Pencil in one hand, the other methodically twisting a jaunty beard, a little man sat there at a desks checking innumerable figures. The slightly apologetic air of one lately elevated to a position of author- ity. lay uneasily on his features. Occasionally he glanced up and examined the figures at the easels. Aware on this occasion (he did not notice the youth by the window) of a scene of uninterrupted industry, he got up from his seat and strolled down the room. By the fireplace a benevolent- looking little man was putting the finishing touches to the body of a peasant in a problematical setting. The boy had fair hair and was 'reclining naked against the bole of a pine tree, apparently engaged in the task of having a vision. One hand clasped a wreath, the other a golden cup. Out . of the cup grew a cypress tree, and among its branches a troop of angels amused themselves with' Miniature harps. In dark square letters the name Vallon threatened from the base of the canvas. The artist put the finishing touches to the boy's face, and lifting up the picture carried it to the far end of the' room. Murmuring " Flowers " to a man at work on a still life with magnolias in a vase, he . put the picture down and, returning to his easel, started work on a figure in a vineyard. An hour later a sunburnt gardener in a wide-brimmed hat was bending over his spade. A bloated sun' glared tropieally On the scene of his labours.
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