'Do you know what impertinent things these little scamps are saying to you?' asked Amanda, pausing in a lecture on surface drainage which she was delivering to Lavinia, who was vainly struggling to cram a fat wine bottle, a cabbage leaf of strawberries, and some remarkable cakes into the lunch-basket.
'No: I don't; and that is the advantage of not knowing any language but my own,' complacently replied Matilda, who considered all study but that of art as time wasted, and made her small store of French answer admirably by talking very loud and fast, and saying, 'Oui, oui, oui,' on all occasions with much gesticulation, and bows and smiles of great suavity and sweetness.
'Clear out this rabble, or come back to the hotel and wait for the bus. We shall have the whole town round us soon, and I can't stand it,' said Amanda, who had no romantic admiration for the Great Unwashed.
'You think I can't do it? Voilà!' and, rising suddenly to an unexpected height, Matilda waved the umbrella like a bâton, cried 'Allez!' in a stern voice, and the children fled like chaff before the wind.
'You see how little is needed, so don't vex me with learning your old verbs any more!' and Matilda closed her book with an air of calm satisfaction.
'Come home and rest. It is so warm here I am fairly melted,' prayed Lavinia, who had been longing for summer, and of course was not suited when she got it.
'Now, do remember one thing: don't let us be gregarious. We never know who we may pick up if we talk to people; and stray acquaintances are sad bores sometimes. Granny is such a cross old dear she won't say a word to any one if she can help it; but you, Mat, can't be trusted if we meet any one who talks English. So be on your guard, or the peace of this party is lost,' said Amanda, impressively.
'We are not likely to meet any but natives in this wilderness; so don't excite yourself, Mandy, dear,' replied Matilda, who, being of a social turn and an attractive presence, was continually making friends, to the great annoyance of her more prudent comrades.
In the flowery courtyard sat the group that one meets everywhere on the Continent,—even in the wilds of Brittany. The father and mother stout, tired, and rather subdued by the newness of things; the son, Young America personified, loud, important, and inquisitive; the daughter, pretty, affected, and over-dressed; all on the lookout for adventures and titles, fellow-countrymen to impress, and foreigners eager to get the better of them.