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and her ways； shrugged their shoulders and retired。 The other
passengers undid their bags and bundles； and wrapped themselves up in
shawls and Jaeger nightshirts。
I met the ladies afterwards in Lausanne。 They told me they had been
condemned to a fine of forty francs apiece。 They also explained to
me that they had not the slightest intention of paying it。
CHAPTER VII
＇Too much Postcard。＇
The postcard craze is dying out in Germanythe land of its birthI
am told。 In Germany they do things thoroughly； or not at all。 The
German when he took to sending postcards abandoned almost every other
pursuit in life。 The German tourist never knew where he had been
until on reaching home again he asked some friend or relation to
allow him to look over the postcards he had sent。 Then it was he
began to enjoy his trip。
〃What a charming old town！〃 the German tourist would exclaim。 〃I
wish I could have found time while I was there to have gone outside
the hotel and have had a look round。 Still； it is pleasant to think
one has been there。〃
〃I suppose you did not have much time？〃 his friend would suggest。
〃We did not get there till the evening；〃 the tourist would explain。
〃We were busy till dark buying postcards； and then in the morning
there was the writing and addressing to be done； and when that was
over； and we had had our breakfast； it was time to leave again。〃
He would take up another card showing the panorama from a mountain
top。
〃Sublime！ colossal！〃 he would cry enraptured。 〃If I had known it was
anything like that； I'd have stopped another day and had a look at
it。〃
It was always worth seeing； the arrival of a party of German tourists
in a Schwartzwald village。 Leaping from the coach they would surge
round the solitary gendarme。
〃Where is the postcard shop？〃 〃Tell uswe have only two hours
where do we get postcards？〃
The gendarme； scenting Trinkgeld； would head them at the double…
quick： stout old gentlemen unaccustomed to the double…quick； stouter
Frauen gathering up their skirts with utter disregard to all
propriety； slim Fraulein clinging to their beloved would run after
him。 Nervous pedestrians would fly for safety into doorways；
careless loiterers would be swept into the gutter。
In the narrow doorway of the postcard shop trouble would begin。 The
cries of suffocated women and trampled children； the curses of strong
men； would rend the air。 The German is a peaceful； law…abiding
citizen； but in the hunt for postcards he was a beast。 A woman would
pounce on a tray of cards； commence selecting； suddenly the tray
would be snatched from her。 She would burst into tears； and hit the
person nearest to her with her umbrella。 The cunning and the strong
would secure the best cards。 The weak and courteous be left with
pictures of post offices and railway stations。 Torn and dishevelled；
the crowd would rush back to the hotel； sweep crockery from the
table； andsucking stumpy pencilswrite feverishly。 A hurried meal
would follow。 Then the horses would be put to again； the German
tourists would climb back to their places and be driven away； asking
of the coachman what the name of the place they had just left might
happen to be。
＇The Postcard as a Family Curse。＇
One presumes that even to the patient German the thing grew tiresome。
In the Fliegende Blatter two young clerks were represented discussing
the question of summer holidays。
〃Where are you going？〃 asks A of B。
〃Nowhere；〃 answers B。
〃Can't you afford it？〃 asks the sympathetic A。
〃Only been able to save up enough for the postcards；〃 answers B；
gloomily； 〃no money left for the trip。〃
Men and women carried bulky volumes containing the names and
addresses of the people to whom they had promised to send cards。
Everywhere； through winding forest glade； by silver sea； on mountain
pathway； one met with prematurely aged looking tourists muttering as
they walked：
〃Did I send Aunt Gretchen a postcard from that last village that we
stopped at； or did I address two to Cousin Lisa？〃
Then； again； maybe； the picture postcard led to disappointment。
Uninteresting towns clamoured； as ill…favoured spinsters in a
photographic studio； to be made beautiful。
〃I want；〃 says the lady； 〃a photograph my friends will really like。
Some of these second…rate photographers make one look quite plain。 I
don't want you to flatter me； if you understand； I merely want
something nice。〃
The obliging photographer does his best。 The nose is carefully toned
down； the wart becomes a dimple； her own husband doesn't know her。
The postcard artist has ended by imagining everything as it might
have been。
〃If it were not for the houses；〃 says the postcard artist to himself；
〃this might have been a picturesque old High street of mediaeval
aspect。〃
So he draws a picture of the High street as it might have been。 The
lover of quaint architecture travels out of his way to see it； and
when he finds it and contrasts it with the picture postcard he gets
mad。 I bought a postcard myself once representing the market place
of a certain French town。 It seemed to me； looking at the postcard；
that I hadn't really seen Francenot yet。 I travelled nearly a
hundred miles to see that market place。 I was careful to arrive on
market day and to get there at the right time。 I reached the market
square and looked at it。 Then I asked a gendarme where it was。
He said it was therethat I was in it。
I said； 〃I don't mean this one； I want the other one； the picturesque
one。〃
He said it was the only market square they had。 I took the postcard
from my pocket。
〃Where are all the girls？〃 I asked him。
〃What girls？〃 he demanded。
＇The Artist's Dream。＇
〃Why； these girls；〃 I showed him the postcard； there ought to have
been about a hundred of them。 There was not a plain one among the
lot。 Many of them I should have called beautiful。 They were selling
flowers and fruit； all kinds of fruitcherries； strawberries； rosy…
cheeked apples； luscious grapesall freshly picked and sparkling
with dew。 The gendarme said he had never seen any girlsnot in this
particular square。 Referring casually to the blood of saints and
martyrs； he said he would like to see a few girls in that town worth
looking at。 In the square itself sat six motherly old souls round a
lamp…post。 One of them had a moustache； and was smoking a pipe； but
in other respects； I have no doubt； was all a woman should be。 Two
of them were selling fish。 That is they would have sold fish； no
doubt； had anyone been there to buy fish。 The gaily clad thousands
of eager purchasers pictured in the postcard were represented by two
workmen in blue blouses talking at a corner； mostly with their
fingers； a small boy walking backwards； with the idea apparently of
not missing anything behind him； and a yellow dog that sat on the
kerb； and had given up all hopejudging from his expressionof
anything ever happening again。 With the gendarme and myself； these
four were the only living creatures in the square。 The rest of the
market con