to Madame's origin, dimly associated
with the laundress profession.

"I will not!" said the lady roundly, and
forgetting all restraint, " I will not take such
talk from any low quill-driver's wife!"

"Nor I," said Madame Faquinet, a-kimbo
once more, " from any Parvenu Robin's wife
—pah!"

"Mes filles! mes filles!" murmured the
Curé, wiping his lips, " a littJe moderation, I
implore of you; such little roughnesses
during the season devoted to nutrition may
seriously disarrange the digestive functions.
Be patient, my children!"

"Yes, Monsieur le Curé," Madame Croquette
said, a little fretfully, " the whole thing
is not worth a straw."

On which there came truce, for that hour
at least; and Monsieur le Curé gave us some
pleasant reminiscences of how he first began
to grow wrong interiorly; of how his ailment
came upon him almost like a thief in the
night, and seized upon him insidiously; of
what his first feelings were at the discovery
—surprise mingled with consternation,
hesitation, astonishment, perplexity—with other
highly curious and interesting particulars.
These carried us well through the dessert
and after-dinner wine. The hostile ladies
still glared fiercely at one another, and
retired with menacing rustle from their gowns.

III.

ALL through that cool evening there was
a bivouac, all round the house: out on the
green sward: under the shady trees: in
the pleasant garden, and even in the court
under the gallery. The ladies fetched work
and bestowed themselves on little green
chairs, all saving and except Tourlou, who
was reported to be asleep, and snoring even,
up-stairs.

"She is a nightmare, a goblin, a trouble to
our sweet life here," said Madame to me
under the porch. " Your sober English
common-sense must take her in hand."

I would do anything, I said, to aid
Madame; perhaps would have added something
more pointed, but for those imperial
moustaches, which, I found, had drawn near,
were saying something to her very sweetly,
as they fancied, and minciugly. He was cut
short, however—very short. Madame had
plainly no relish for such an intruder; and
so, with a slow shrug, he twisted himself
about on his heel, and sauntered off.

Alone I took the road through the woods
spoken of by the harmonious husbands, and
thought of Madame Croquette. I leaned
against a tree. She was charming—even to
those little grey boots—even to the little
collar barely a single half-inch in breadth.
And that little toy household of hers and the
pastoral inn. Why, I continued, reflectively,
a man might do worse, far worse, than
unstrap his wallet for good, and end his days
here, shepherd-like. Sit at the head of his
own table-d'hôte, and entertain his strangers.
Queer destiny! Yet, a man, wind-buffeted
and travel-sore, might cheerfully accept it,
especially if there were one so charming to
sweeten the toils of direction. Ah, well-a-
day! When little grey boots and narrow
collars find their way into a man's head, it is
all up with him. As to showing fight, it is
out of the question.

That Briton's sterling aplomb and sound
sense spoken of so handsomely by Madame
continued to make itself felt in other quarters.
Its appreciation was further strengthened
after a few days' stay. Out on the farm
before breakfast one day, Madame Faquinet
unfolded to me the whole story of her grievances
at the hands of that ogresse Tourlou,
getting quite fiery and excited as she
proceeded.

"It must end! it must end!" she said,
turning to her poissarde's attitude. " I will
not endure her insolence. Now, I put it to
you, monsieur—was it to be borne? But I
stopped her voice of Polichinelle."

"Madame did so most effectually," I said,
concurring as of course.

"She will not offer to engage with me
again," Madame continued.

"She will not," I said, " if she be wise."

"The pig!" Madame exclaimed, with
strong disgust. " She should be ashamed
to show to the world that huge person of
hers."

Towards mid-day, I came upon Monsieur
le Curé, sitting on a camp-stool under a broad
tree, and reading his Breviary. The good
man looked as though he would be inclined
for a little pleasant digestive conversation;
but I could not bring myself to break in
upon his pious task, so I passed him with
a profound salute.

I shall tarry here, I said, at least one
month. There are a hundred ways of passing
the time. Firstly and chiefly, sweet little
Madame herself; who, to say the truth, has
shown a wish very plainly to make her house
and self as agreeable as might be to the
stranger.

But traveller beware! Perhaps this charming
little widow may have been of Delilah
quality. She may have been familiar with
drugs and unhallowed potions. How would
that decease of Croquette (husband) bear
looking into? Had the good man been, so
to speak, Lafarged: worked off by the process
known to that daring widow? I should like
to hold inquest on remains of deceased
Croquette, to have him exhumed, and the contents
of stomach put in a jar and analysed by
Professor Taylor. These fair French souls were
ever dangerous. Had we not read of them in
the novels? All those smiles and winning
ways were but traps and pitfalls. So, stranger,
I say again, beware!

The bare notion made me turn pale. I
had not thought of the subject in that