“Yes, I am if you are. He is a brave garçon, but I feel more at home with that big Jean. I am used to those like him. He reminds me of the men who worked in the fields near my village. I could never have offered Nenette and Rintintin to Monsieur Victor, but to Jean, yes, it was quite another thing; it was quite natural.”
“But you chattered away like a babillarde at the restaurant this morning.”
“Very true, but when I am excited I can do that. It is not that one is afraid, but that one does not wish.”
The swallows circled high above the chimneys. The sun-shot clouds turned to gray. The garden became an indistinct mass of grass and foliage, and then the girls turned away.
They started early the next day. Paulette all in a twitter of excitement. Had monsieur the safe-conducts? Where was her green umbrella? They must not forget to give Mathilde the key. What was the time? They must not be late. At last the station was reached. Miss Lowndes came running up at the last moment with chocolate and fruit, and, best of all, with a storybook in English for Lucie. The train moved out. Paris was left behind.
Past towns and quiet villages, past green fields and budding forests, and finally at a small station they left the train. There was a little village beyond, and beyond the village stretched the cultivated ground of farmsteads. Victor looked around and finally hailed an old man with a charrette. “Ah, Jules, you are here. That is good.” He turned to Lucie. “Will you go in the charrette or will you walk?”
“How far is it?”
“About a mile, perhaps less. We can go in the charrette and Jules can come back for the luggage. The horse is rather old, you see, and perhaps it would be best to spare him too heavy a load.”
“I think I should prefer to walk after sitting so long, and then one can see the country better.”
“Very well. And you Paulette, you Odette?”