Old-world charm

Saturday, November 6th., Villa des Nefliers.

I received copies today of the U.S.A. edition of "The Glimpse". Horrible binding. In glancing through it I noticed several misprints. The American spelling of course one accepts, though I have noticed that American novels published in England retain their spelling. Why is this?

I had a superb walk in the forest. This has been a marvellous autumn but must now be coming to an end. I fear we will have a sharp frost and/or a high wind and the trees will be left bare. Before long it will be difficult to recall that they ever were clothed.

At 9.30 I began, very unwillingly, the last day on my second act. I was rather pleased with it at lunchtime. After repose I threw my painting over  and finished the act. What a relief! I then fiddled about with tea and Max Beerbohm and the proces Steinheil until 4, when I was obliged by my conscience to go to the barbers. I am always loathe to get my hair cut and yet invariably glad when it is done. I don't seem to learn from the experience.

Happily it is a stately barbers where hair cutting and friction are treated with adequate solemnity. In the half-light, with its mirrors and rococo woodwork and complicated apparatus, it had 'due style' tradition behind it. A little framed notice was hung up as always on hunt days."Rendezvous de chasse. Croix de Toulouse" All this kind of thing will belong to a past generation probably before I am dead. I shall recount it as something antique, quaint and scarcely conceivable. The entire atmosphere was old-world. I have often noticed how elderly people delight in detailing how different (usually better) the world was when they were young. I haven't reached that stage yet, but I sense it in the offing!

I came home when there was star in a field of blue-green above pink, above purple-grey that mingled with the smoke and roofs of the houses. A simplified tableau seen from the lower corner of the Rue Bernard Palissy. Then I came in and read my dose of Taine.