Grandfather left his carriage at the entrance of the village, at the only inn of the place, and as we walked along he continued his jokes.
I laughed so at all the nonsense he said to me that, when I saw Marguerite and the donkey to which I was to talk Latin, I forgot to cry.
Grandfather kissed me quickly, more overcome than myself. After giving Marguerite instructions concerning my health, and the care to be taken of me, he handed her a complimentary note for my aunts, and then flew off so rapidly towards the entrance of the village where he had put up his carriage, that when I turned, after caressing the donkey, I saw no sign of him.
We were to have gone to the inn, on leaving the village, to get my packages to put on the donkey, which had a basket hung on his saddle, but a servant from the inn brought them to us.
My heart was a little heavy at this sudden separation, but my stomach was very empty, and I ate with a good appetite for the first time in many weeks.
Marguerite’s mother had announced my passage to the whole country-side; all the urchins of the place were grouped around the cross. I smiled at the little girls and boys, who followed me into the house to see the “young Miss” who looked like a little “Parisienne.”
My way of speaking, which had no Picardy accent, struck them all. Neither my grandfather, who was from Compiègne, nor my grandmother, which was more extraordinary still, had the least patois accent.
The little chits gathered around the long oaken table at which I was eating, and made me talk by asking questions. I had brought with me some sugar-plums, a necessary cargo for a great journey to an unknown country. I distributed my sugar-plums with the greatest success. I drank to the health of the troop, who had cried: “Vive! the young Miss!” and, a little intoxicated with the bracing air, I half remember having made a speech to the young people, a very moral one, concluding by saying one could never love one’s grandfather and grandmother enough, or one’s father and mother.
“Why is it that you don’t say first that we should love our mother and father?” asked one of the little peasants.
“Oh! that’s as you like,” I answered, thinking it would require too many explanations to be understood.