Jean was the hero of the hour among the children, and some of his prize was soon spent at one of the booths on sucre du pomme, which was distributed lavishly among his admiring friends. Sucre du pomme, by the by, is a very nice candy made in sticks of various sizes from sugar and the drippings of the cider apples. Each stick is carefully wrapped in a pretty paper, and tied together, in bundles of six or a dozen, with bright ribbons.
Jean's father and M. Lafond took part in the men's sports on the river-front, but neither had Jean's luck. One feat was quite difficult. It was something like what children elsewhere know as "climbing the greasy pole," but in this case it was a bar that extended over the river, in which at regular intervals were placed, hanging downward, wooden pegs. These pegs were well greased, and one had to swing himself by his hands from one of these pegs to another in order to reach the extreme end of the bar, where was fastened a small bag of money. Well, you may imagine this was not easy to do, and generally about the third or fourth peg the participant would drop into the water with a splash, and be picked up by a waiting boat, to the intense amusement of the lookers-on, who thronged the banks of the river. After many trials, one venturesome fellow grabbed the bag just before he slipped off, taking it with him, however, into the water.
After this came the diving matches and the swimming contests, and then everybody got ready for the evening's grand wind-up. In the Belle Étoile all was bustle and confusion; the maids were flying about, for there were many visitors who had come in for the usual apéritif. The café was full, the gardens were filled up with extra tables, and M. Auguste was quite distracted in his endeavours to be polite and attentive to every one, besides stopping to take a glass with his friends, as was his custom. He had barely a moment to pat Germaine on the cheek, and to hear the story of Jean's success.
Mr. Carter, with the help of the young lady artists, was hanging lanterns in the front windows, and getting ready a big lot of Roman candles as the contribution of the visitors of the Belle Étoile to the evening's gaieties, while Mimi, the white cat, sat in the doorway regarding things with her usual lofty air of superiority.
As it grew dark, our two parties found themselves once more on the quay, amid a great throng of tourists, country folk, visitors in automobiles and farm carts, on bicycles, and in lumbering buses from out-of-the-way villages.
The prosaic little neighbourhood was changed for the night into a gorgeous panorama of light and colour. The river banks burned with red, green, and white Bengal fires. Queer boats rigged with golden lamps, and sails of coloured lanterns, floated down the stream, and into the sky burst showers of gold and silver stars.
CHÂTEAU GAILLARD
Suddenly there was heard a great boom, and from the top of Château Gaillard rose a red cloud of fire, and the old walls and turrets stood out red against the dark blue sky, a beacon for miles of country roundabout. It was a mimic reproduction of the destruction of the grand old castle many hundreds of years ago.
Germaine caught Marie's hand, it seemed so real. It seemed as if her cherished playground were crumbling away, and that never again could she picture the great king and his knights riding out of its massive gateway to do battle against its foes.