The Ypres Times.
171
famous. In the years to come he fell asleep just before dawn broke on the after-
storm calmness.
The next three weeks was one of the happiest times of Philipp's life the attain
ment of his ambition was in sight. Cecile was not a good model, as models go. But what is
technical perfection when compared to inspiration Yet, she must have been very good
at that time. Many a greater artist than Philipp has gone to pieces through love of a
woman half as attractive as Cecile was that spring, when he drew her, in every attitude,
in every light, with a divine discontent ever present.
Then one evening they walked to the neighbouring village of Ranemark to lay flowers
on the shrinefor it was a spring festival day. The next morning, Philipp had to leave,
for in Paris his patron awaited him.
It was the aftermath of the day, and the sun had just set. A silence reigned, enchanted,
and so quiet that far, far ahead they heard the click-clock of a peasant's sabots.
You look so sad to-night," said Cecile, looking up at him.
It is nothing," he replied, but soon I have to return, to Paris, and leave all this."
He did not tell her it must be the next morning. It was characteristic of him to try and
evade the inevitable.
On their return, they lingered by the roadside. Far away there came a faint, sad
snatch of melodyit was a simple native air. They stood arm-in-arm and listened
and as they stood, a warm breeze wafted the scent of flowers around thiem.
They talked of other things, as they walked Cecile, thought Philipp, was deliciously
beautiful that evening. But being English, and still possessing a natural shyness, he was
afraid to tell her so.
All too soon they were at the big gate of the Chateau Fiton. Philipp spoke first,
and last.
Cecile," he said, in Paris there is a picture called La Joconde, the Mona Lisa.
I have never liked it. Perhaps because I have not understood it. It is a great picture,
the greatest picture in all the Louvre, for now I understand it. To look into those eyes is
to see the border of life's mysteries." He looked into her eyes, which were more beautiful,
and paused.
Once, you know, I used to be a cynic. I was admired for a satirical tongue. But
I have lost that gift now. I know better. That is what Hautzeele has done for me."
He raised her hand rather shyly, and kissed it.
With a smile of curious, mysterious delicacy, that made him clench his hands, she
turned and went inside the big gates of the Chateau.
As he stood there, Philipp experienced a sensation of emptiness, of the futility of
further ambitions, intensified when he realised with a start that he had never told her of his
departure. Philipp was a fool, as you will see. He should have run after her. But he
didn't. The next morning, before leaving, he wrote a passionate and apologetic little note.
In the autumn, after a busy three months, he returned, greatly wondering and per
turbed about Cecile's silence. He had stories to tellof wanderings with his patron, the
great Anton Galle. His drawings and etchings of Cecile had established a reputation, they
had told him. You, who can see these delightful works of art in Paris and in London
to-day, will, perhaps, be able to appreciate the force of the shock Philipp experienced
when he reached Hautzeele and found Cecile gone. A week after his own departure,
in the spring, M. Fiton had died and Cecile was gone.
There was no addressbut why had she not let him know Long aft; rwards he learned
it was because the letter he wrote on that May morning had never been delivered. In
her eyes, he was dishonoured. Lives can be twisted and ruined by the smallest of trifles.
A lost letterSuch a small thing yet its consequences were disastrous or, perhaps
they weren't. You must judge.
Philipp spent nearly two years in vain efforts to discover Cecile but he never found
her. It was perhaps for the best, his friends told him. The girl would by now be different.
