“It is near four o’clock,” grand’mère said, consulting the familiar shadow of the water-jet. “They must be crazy to be exposing themselves to the heat; but such people fear nothing.”
“They’re brought up to rough it,” Yvonne remarked.
“But people are saluting them, on my word,” grand’mère said. “There is the adjoint, who must be there for the license; and there’s Mme. Riçois also, and others besides. It looks as if they were personal acquaintances; they are shaking hands!”
Grand’mère in astonishment saw the ladies in the carriage-end part holding out their hands like princesses. One of them, the younger, got down and moved about to stir herself. As far as could be seen at that distance, between dust and sun, she was dressed in a light silk, very becoming in color. The plaits of the skirt molded her form, and fell to a level with the ground. Her head, enveloped in a cloud of gauze, was not to be seen.
“Where will elegance end, my poor Yvonne?” said grand’mère. “There’s a gown worth five times as much as your ball-dress.”
“Oh, here are the horses!” Yvonne cried, pointing to magnificent animals which grooms were leading by the bridle from the direction of the railway station. As they passed by the auto the young girl went up to one of them, patted him on the neck, and, putting her hand in her pocket, gave him a lump of sugar.
“She must be the circus-rider,” Yvonne guessed.
On the place there was now a little group of curious onlookers drawing near. The proprietor of the Lion d’Or made himself important. They could imagine him at that distance saying: “The Lion d’Or is the tourists’ rendezvous—every one puts up at my place—every one. I do this—I have that—”
He had not the time to finish before the young girl had quickly climbed back into the auto, given orders to the groom, pointed to the inn, and made a sign of farewell to everybody.
Teuff-teuff! teuff! The auto swung into movement—teuff-teuff! brrrr! and off it went at high speed.