"O Monsieur! I was just wondering where I should find you—so delighted, really so charmed—you must go with us, indeed you must! now, no excuse; positively I will accept none; this time you must allow my will to be law."
"Madame, I am your most obedient; but in what particular am I required to show my duty?"
"Mon Dieu! and have I not told you? what a giddy thing I am; indeed my poor husband" (whom I am sure she talked to death) "always said I was giddy! We are going to C——, where there is to be a fête, and on the way we can see see a chateau or two, not much, you know, but pretty well for these degenerate times. Yes, we are all going—that is, no, not all, for poor Madame Hayne has the migraine: dear! dear! how that poor woman suffers! So the charming Mees Fannee has accepted me as her chaperone—interesting girl, is she not? Well, as I was saying, Madame Hayne has the migraine, and Madame Poirier has the toothache and will not that her daughter go without her; so the party will be reduced to Madame Duchemin and her daughter, Mees Fannee, my nephew, M. Dubois—has he not a charming talent—and myself; and you really must join us—plenty of room I assure you, plenty of room. We shall go in one of those vehicles they call an 'Americaine'—I fancy it got its name from the hospitality with which it holds so many people—so like your delightful country!"
After some little delay occasioned by the ladies, who, as might be expected, all forgot something at the last woman's, we started. It was a fresh, breezy morning, just such a one as to excite high spirits, and make one appreciate every trifling incident. The road was excellent, indeed it made me blush for some of our own ill-made, ill-kept roads; but of this I said nothing, for every American feels bound, when abroad, to represent all concerning his country "couleur de rose." The scenery was charming; nothing perhaps striking and grand and vast, like the scenery we are most accustomed to, but a pleasing alternation of hill and dale, with well-cultivated fields, villages nestling in groves of fine trees, and above all occasional glimpses of the blue ocean, to delight the eye and to give one a genial and pleasing sense of the beautiful, without calling forth rapturous, and let me add, fatiguing expressions of admiration. When we reached the first chateau we all agreed that we were tired of the "Americaine," and that it was absolutely necessary for our happiness to wander about for half so hour or so.
"M. d'Agri!" exclaimed Miss Hayne "you once promised me a sketch; here is my album, and yonder chateau is the very subject for a drawing; so, sir, please, to sit down and obey my command."
"Obedience was never my principal virtue, Mees Fannee, and I feel particularly lazy this morning."
But a little imperious gesture, accompanied by a half smile, had their effect, and the young man, perhaps too indolent to make further objections, took the proffered album, and seeking the softest grass-plot, sat down. I noticed that the artist, of whose arm the Baronne had taken possession, looked around angrily, as though this time M. d'Agri were in reality trespassing on his ground; but that gentleman, himself quite a clever draughtsman, proceeded with most imperturbable sang froid. The view he chose was really pretty. The chateau, a large, irregular edifice, stood at the end of a noble avenue of horse-chestnuts, whose broad leaves made a dense shade; the country immediately around was charming; a little stream somewhat resembling that of V——, only larger, was seen in the distance, wandering through shrubbery and trees, until lost behind a hill which rose more abruptly than most of the hills in this part of Normandy. On the other hand, fields of wheat and oats extended for some [{411}] distance, ended by a dark belting of woods; not far from us stood one of those large wayside crosses so often seen in Catholic countries, near which a shepherd was tending a flock of sheet.
When the sketch was finished Madame d'Agri came up, and admiring it loudly, thanked Mees Fannee, with many caresses, for having made that lazy nephew of hers exert himself, and during the rest of the ride showered even more than her ordinary share of condescensions on the young girl. This brought to my mind various other trifling circumstances, and I said within myself: "French titles are often accompanied by French poverty; this girl is rich, and Madame la Baronne knows it. I will watch."
It was late in the afternoon when we reached the village; leaving our tired horses at the inn, we walked to the market place. Here, a number of booths, gay with flags and ribbons, stood temptingly displaying their wares; most of them were filled with second-rate, but highly colored china, for which unlucky wretches were induced to try their chance, through the agency of a particularly dirty pack of cards. Gambling on a small scale, for pieces of dusty gingerbread, seemed to be another favorite mode of parting with sous. On the other side, the beating of drums and clanging of cymbals announced that in a certain tent the unsophisticated mind could be rejoiced by extra-ordinary theatrical representations for the moderate sum of three sous; dust, noise, and bustle reigned supreme, and the peasant's in their holiday clothes seemed to be at the very height of enjoyment. Altogether it was a gay and picturesque scene, but I was content to view it at a respectful distance. Not so Madame d'Agri; she patronized the peasants, who looked at her eccentric costume in bewildered admiration; chucked the children under the chin, scolded the parents, and in short acted out the "grande dame" of the fête to her heart's content. As night approached, a large building in the centre of the place, used, I believe, as a sort of flour dépôt on market days, was lighted by Chinese lanterns and flaring tallow candles; here the youth of both sexes enjoyed a rollicking, laugh-abounding dance, to the sound of a cracked fiddle. Madame was just insisting on forming a quadrille of her own, to encourage the peasantry, who, by the way, seemed but little in need of encouragement, when her nephew represented to her that we should not get home till late as it was, and that the moon would not serve after a certain hour. Reluctantly she yielded, and we settled ourselves once more in our "Americaine," tired but pleased. The conversation was soon monopolized by M. d'Agri and Miss Fanny, who, whatever might be their fatigue, always seemed to have some point of dispute.
After this excursion my vigilance increased, and my observations were not pleasing; two or three little circumstances brought out in M. d'Agri's character an insensibility to the pains and sufferings of others, and a certain cruelty of thought and action, which, notwithstanding the interest his fine intellect excited in me, brought a feeling of distrust, and at times of dislike.