Wandering beyond the village, we picked up an amusing acquaintance.
This was an old lady, of a shrewd bright face and brisk walk, neatly dressed in the usual black jacket and skirt, and black head-gear. She was well-to-do looking, and evidently belonged to the bourgeoisie class. As we came up behind her, she slackened her pace; and, after a friendly nod and word of salutation, walked beside us.
"Well ladies, you are visitors here, I suppose, and came by diligence?"
"No, madame, we came in our hired carriage."
"Oh, indeed. And how do you like my country?"
"Very much indeed, madame. We think it lovely."
"Better than England, ladies? You are English, are you not?"
"Corsica is much more beautiful than England, madame."
"Ah! you should come here in September. You should see the vineyards then—the grapes are magnificent."
"It is too hot for English people then, madame."