CHAPTER XXI
FACE TO FACE
I FELL from the skies on Barbizon about two o'clock of
a September afternoon. It is the dead hour of the day;
all the workers have gone painting, all the idlers
strolling, in the forest or the plain; the winding
causewayed street is solitary, and the inn deserted. I
was the more pleased to find one of my old companions
in the dining-room; his town clothes marked him for a
man in the act of departure; and indeed his portmanteau
lay beside him on the floor.
"Why, Stennis," I cried, "you're the last man I
expected to find here."
"You won't find me here long," he replied. "'KING
PANDION HE IS DEAD; ALL HIS FRIENDS ARE LAPPED IN
LEAD.' For men of our antiquity, the poor old shop is
played out."
"'I HAVE HAD PLAYMATES, I HAVE HAD COMPANIONS,'" I
quoted in return. We were both moved, I think, to meet
again in this scene of our old pleasure parties so
unexpectedly, after so long an interval, and both
already so much altered.
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