368 IN A WINTER CITY.
Prophets, they woiUd eat lobster salad on Mount
OUvet, and they would scatter thefr cigar ash
overVaucluse, Marathon, the Campo Santo, or the
gi'ave at Eavenna with equal indifference; they
are always amused, and defy alike the seasons and
the sanctities to stop them in thefr amusement.
It was mid-April, and with the beginning of
May would come the races, and with the races
the Winter City would become the Summer City,
and the winter-fashion always fled with one bound
to fresh fields and pastures new, and left the town
to silence, sunshine, roses, fruits, its own populace
with thefr summer songs and summer skies, and
perhaps here and there an artist or a poet, or
some such fooUsh person, who loved it best so in
" Do come with us, HUda,** said Madame
MUa one mid-April morning.
Madame MUa was attired in the simplest
morning costume of cream-hued SiciUenne
covered with 6cru lace, and she had a simple
country Dorothy hat of cream-colomred velvet,
lined bleu-de-ciel, with wreaths of deUcate
aemophUae and convolvuU and floating feathers.