Before dawn Barty woke up with such a start that he woke me:
"Enfin! ça y est! quelle chance!" he exclaimed.
"Quoi, quoi, quoi?" said I, quacking like a duck.
"Le nord—c'est revenu—it's just ahead of us—a little to the left!"
We were nearing Paris.
And thus ended the proudest and happiest time I ever had in my life. Indeed I almost had an adventure on my own account—une bonne fortune, as it was called at Brossard's by boys hardly older than myself. I did not brag of it, however, when I got back to school.
It was at "Les Laiteries," or "Les Poteries," or "Les Crucheries," or some such place, the charming abode of Monsieur et Madame Pélisson—only their name wasn't Pélisson, or anything like it. At dinner I sat next to a Miss ———, who was very tall and wore blond side ringlets. I think she must have been the English governess.
We talked very much together, in English; and after dinner we walked in the garden together by starlight arm in arm, and she was so kind and genial to me in English that I felt quite chivalrous and romantic, and ready to do doughty deeds for her sake.
Then, at M. Pélisson's request, all the company assembled in a group for evening prayer, under a spreading chestnut‑tree on the lawn: the prayer sounded very much like the morning or evening prayer at Brossard's, except that the Almighty was addressed as "toi" instead of "vous"; it began:
"Notre Père qui es aux cieux—toi dont le regard scrutateur pénètre jusque dans les replis les plus profonds de nos cœurs"—and ended, "Ainsi soit‑il!"