3
It is almost dark. I leave my companions in order to call for the lamps and I stop near Rose as I pass through the next room. Here, all the girls are clustered round Hermione, who is telling them a story of her travels.
Anne and Marie are listening respectfully, while the two inseparables, only half-attentive, are sharing a box of sweets.
Roseline throws her arms round me and, shrugging her shoulders, says:
"All this strikes me as such utter nonsense!"
She is certainly right, with her Normandy common sense; but does she not need just a touch of this same nonsense to bring her faculties into play, her powers into action?