110 GOLDEN DAYS 



less the mantels are of stone, but all are 

 boxed in matchwood, painted a violent 

 brown (Suzanne's mother delights in 

 paint, table-covers of oilcloth, and much- 

 beflowered wall-papers). There are great 

 aiinoires here and there on bare and bees- 

 waxed floors. Everything is spotless 

 (with Suzanne's mother cleanliness and 

 godliness walk hand in hand). But the 

 walls are noisy as a patchwork quilt. 

 Here first-communion cards, blossoms in 

 wax and tinsel, plaster saints and china 

 benitiers, all vie upon a paper crude and 

 worried. Nor are these all, for every 

 room has its Ave Maria in outrageous 

 oleograph of golds and pinks and mineral 

 greens, with every colour glazed. You 

 will be sure that this St. Joseph must be 

 the worst of all, till you have seen SS. 

 Antoine and Etienne who grace the room 

 beyond. Further, there are two little 

 pictures in fascinating time-toned frames. 

 The first might be a Ribera outlined in 

 faded ink (you met him in Italy, you 

 remember, as Lo Spagnoletto)^ and below 

 an early woodcut of St. Anne. These 

 two have found refuge in Suzanne's 



