“Speak to Baptiste, monsieur; I have given my orders to Julie.”
Madame Destival went into the garden, where the petite-maîtresse was strolling about, gathering a bouquet.
“I am picking your flowers, you see,” she said.
“You are doing just right, my dear love; pray take all that you please.”
“Your garden is lovely.”
“Oh! it isn’t very extensive; but there is plenty of shade, and that’s what I like.”
“So do I. I have had a forest planted on our estate at Fleury. It will be delicious, I assure you.”
“But before it grows——”
“Oh! we have set out nothing but large trees. I will send you an invitation for next month. I am waiting for the painting and decorating I am having done to be finished, before going there for a month. But I shall take plenty of guests; for I don’t like the country except with a lot of people about.”
“For my part, I am rather fond of solitude.”