“She rides, you say?”
“She does nothing else, and she passes our house every day.”
“Yes, and one day when I was at the window of the little summer-house at the end of the garden, she stared at me so persistently! Oh! I am quite sure that she will know me again.”
“Probably she didn’t expect to find such a sweet face in this part of the country.”
“I don’t know what she expected, but her manner of staring at me was not at all agreeable.”
“And I,” added Honorine with a laugh, “nearly had a duel with her.”
“A duel! this is worse and worse! How came you to quarrel with this woman?”
“I was out on the road and I heard shrieks; it was that little boy we have told you about—the lost child, as he is called by the peasants—whom the beautiful amazon was thrashing with her hunting crop because he didn’t get out of her way quickly enough. Naturally I took the child’s part, which made the lady very angry with me. I must confess that the boy put himself in the wrong by throwing a lump of earth which struck the horse in the head; he reared, and his rider was furious. I don’t know what she would not have done to little Emile if a defender had not arrived in the person of Ami, Monsieur Paul’s dog, who bravely championed the cause of the weaker, and forced the amazon to beat a retreat. Since that day Ami comes very often to see us; he has no difficulty in making us hear, for he scratches, or rather knocks, at the small garden gate, until it is opened; he passes a quarter of an hour with us, then goes back to the little gate and gives us to understand that he wants it opened; he looks at us both, sitting down in front of us, and offering us his paw like an old friend. That is by way of bidding us adieu, and then he trots off without further delay.”
“And his master?”
“His master doesn’t come himself, but he allows his dog to come; that is a good deal for him.”