"Ah! Messieurs and Mesdames, is it not a wonderful sight; a grand occasion for our city?" The voice brought Germaine back to earth again. It was the indefatigable little sous-Commissaire, the one policeman of the village, speaking to them. The little man had come unwearied and triumphant through the excitements of the great day. Ah! it was he who had managed it all so successfully! It was he who had kept order among the vast throng. No other sous-Commissaire in all France could have done better, and the little man swelled with pride.
The light had faded off the château; the last rocket had been fired; the band of the pompiers played the "Marseillaise,"—the national air,—and the great event of the year for Petit Andelys was over.
CHAPTER VIII.
AN AUTOMOBILE JOURNEY
Early one morning three of the happiest children in France were stowed away in the back of Mr. Carter's big automobile. They were still more delighted when Pierre, Mr. Carter's fine, black French poodle, jumped up on the seat beside him, looking very jaunty with his fore-locks tied up with a blue ribbon, and as complacent as if he was driving the auto himself.
"I thought we would go by way of La Roche-Guyon to Mantes and have lunch there, and then come back by way of Vernon; that ought to show you children a bit of the country," said Mr. Carter.
The children were ready for anything, and off they went at a pace that nearly took away their breath.
They were soon flying through rolling farmlands, where the various crops were planted in such regular fields that they looked like a great patchwork quilt, with squares of green, yellow, and brown spread out for miles. There were no divisions by fences or hedges, except sometimes at each corner of a farm a small white stone marked the boundary. Suddenly, they slowed down.
"Here is something which always stops me," said Mr. Carter. "It is like running into a big spider's web."