CHAPTER XXXII.
THE weather was clear, the winter sun radiant. Marie Bastien, as she went out on the rustic porch, built above the front door of the house, saw about one hundred persons, men, women, and children, almost all clothed in coarse, but new and warm garments, filing in order, and ranging themselves behind the little garden.
This procession was ended by a cart ornamented with branches of fir, on which was placed what was called by the country people, a ferry-boat—a little flat boat, resembling the one Frederick and David so bravely used during the overflow.
Behind the cart, which stopped at the garden gate, came an empty open carriage, drawn by four horses, and mounted by two postilions in the livery of Pont Brillant; two footmen were seated behind.
At the head of the procession marched Jean François, the farmer, leading two of his little children by the hand; his wife held the smallest child in her arms.
At the sight of Madame Bastien, the farmer approached.
"Good day, Jean François," said the young woman to him, affectionately. "What do these good people who accompany you want?"
"We wish to speak to M. Frederick, madame."
Marie turned to Marguerite, who, with a triumphant air, was standing behind her mistress, and said to her:
"Run and tell my son, Marguerite."