Les Baux-de-Provence is a ruined town encountered during Eveline Hutchins and J.W. Moorehouse’s journey through southern France. Its force in the narrative comes from the contrast between the excursion’s intimacy and the harsh, isolating conditions of their stay: they arrive after dark in a gale, find themselves alone in a cold hotel, and share a night in which Eveline cannot quiet her thoughts or get warm.

Setting and approach

The mistral bends the poplars double across the dusty plain as the car begins climbing the winding road to Les Baux. The wind slows their progress, and darkness has fallen by the time they reach the ruined town. The approach makes the destination feel remote before the pair have even settled in: their arrival is delayed by weather, and the town offers no lively company or easy comfort.

The hotel

Eveline and J.W. are the hotel’s only guests. Olivewood burns in the grates, but the fires provide little warmth; gusts from the chimney bring puffs of grey smoke instead. Dinner and hot spiced wine improve the evening, though the cold follows them upstairs, where they put on their overcoats to go to bed. The sparse lodging and empty hotel make the stay a rough excursion rather than a polished escape.

Eveline’s night

On the stairs J.W. kisses Eveline under the ear and tells her that she makes him feel young again. Yet after he falls asleep, she lies awake listening to the wind rattle the shutters and howl around the roof. She cannot get properly warm even while cuddled against him, and a recurring carousel of faces, plans, and scraps of talk keeps turning in her mind. The scene holds tenderness and unease together: physical closeness does not settle her thoughts or bring sleep.

Departure and narrative role

The next morning J.W. discovers that bathing means using a basin and gently asks whether she minds roughing it. They leave Les Baux and travel through Arles and Avignon to Nîmes for lunch, then continue on to Lyon. There, after supper and hot baths, Eveline climbs onto J.W.’s lap and kisses him, keeping him awake for a long time. Against the more settled routines of her Paris life—sharing tea with Eleanor Stoddard after office work assembling Red Cross scrapbooks—the stop at Les Baux becomes a compact interval of travel, discomfort, and intimacy. Its ruined setting and stormbound hotel give the journey a temporary seclusion, while Eveline’s wakefulness shows that seclusion does not quiet the thoughts she carries with her.