"What is it, La Valteline?"
"A great clodhopper—some peasant from the South, doubtless, for he wears the Béarnais costume, I believe. He is coming along on an enormous horse. Come, look! it's worth the trouble!"
"Do you expect us to put ourselves out for a country lout?"
"But he has something very seductive en croupe; a fresh, red-cheeked little wench, who, in her rustic costume, would carry off the palm from all the fair who come to visit the baths!"
"Oho! we must see that! we must see that!"
A horse was coming along at a footpace, with two persons on his back. First, a countryman with straight hair brushed flat, which fell to his shoulders, and was partly hidden by a sort of woollen cap ending in a point and surmounted by a small black plume; beneath that original headgear appeared a broad, round, chubby, red face, a most perfect specimen of careless health, with big eyes on a level with the face, which expressed amazement at everything they saw, and at the same time seemed happy to be amazed. The rest of his costume was that of a Béarnais peasant. In his right hand he held a long branch of dogwood, which he used as a crop to accelerate his horse's gait.
Behind this rustic, on his horse's crupper, and clinging tightly to her cavalier, was a young girl of eighteen years at most, as pretty as the Italian madonnas to whom the painters make you long to pray, and as fresh as a rosebud just opening.
Her embarrassment and alarm made her even more beautiful, for she seemed a little alarmed by her position; and while trying to seat herself more firmly, she displayed every moment the upper part of a shapely calf, and sometimes even the red garter that held her coarse woollen stocking in place.
"Jarnidié! that's a dainty morsel!" exclaimed the young men in chorus.
"See the lovely black hair!"