no telling.

An old woman came by, selling conical wafer-cakes, and singing--"_V'la
l'plaisir, mesdames--V'la l'plaisir!_" Madame Seraskier bought ten sous'
worth--a mountain!

M. le Major made a dash with his net--unsuccessfully, as usual. Medor
was let loose, and plunged with a plunge that made big waves all round
the mare, and dived after an imaginary stone, amid general shouts and
shrieks of excitement. Oh, the familiar voices! I almost wept.

Medor came out of the water without his stone and shook himself,
twisting and barking and grinning and gyrating, as was his way, quite
close to me. In my delight and sympathy I was ill-advised enough to try
and stroke him, and straight the dream was "blurred"--changed to an
ordinary dream, where all things were jumbled up and incomprehensible; a
dream pleasant enough, but different in kind and degree--an ordinary
dream; and in my distress thereat I woke, and failed to dream again (as
I wished to dream) that night.

Next morning (after an early swim) I went to the Louvre, and stood
spellbound before Leonardo da Vinci's "Lisa Gioconda," trying hard to
find where the wondrous beauty lay that I had heard so extravagantly
extolled; and not trying very successfully, for I had seen Madame
Seraskier once more, and felt that "Gioconda" was a fraud.

Presently I was conscious of a group just behind me, and heard a
pleasant male English voice exclaim--

[Illustration: "Lisa Giaconda"]