g chocolate
and cakes in the back parlour of the grocer's shop (nothing like
equality on these occasions), who was telling them all the little gossip
of the town, and naming the radicals who wouldn't go to the church.

We had a pleasant evening with music and "baraque"--which is not very
fatiguing as a mental exercise. I tried to send all the party to bed
early, and have come upstairs myself, but I still hear the click of the
billiard balls, and sounds of merriment downstairs. It is a splendid
starlight night, the sky quite blue over the pines. I think we shall
have beautiful weather for our fete. I have very vague ideas as to how
many people we shall have for breakfast and dinner to-morrow, but the
"office" is warned. I hope we shan't starve.

April 24th. Monday.

We had a beautiful and most successful day yesterday. All the household
was stirring fairly early, as we had to get ourselves in to La Ferte
before 12 o'clock. We started in all sorts of conveyances--train,
carriage, voiturette--and found the Grande Rue full of people. The
official breakfast was over, also the visit to the Mairie, where there
are a few souvenirs of the poet--his picture, acte de naissance,[12]
and signature. The procession was just forming to climb up the steep,
little street that leads to the church, so we took a short cut (still
steeper), and waited outside the doors to see them arrive. It was a
pretty sight to see the cortege wind up the path--the Bishop of
Soissons and several other ecclesiastics in their robes, blackcoated
officials, some uniforms--the whole escorted by groups of children
running alongside, and a fair sprinkling of women in light dresses,
with flowers on their hats, making patches of colour. The church was
crowded--one didn't remark the absence of certain "esprits forts" who
gloried in remaining outside--and the service was most interesting.
The lecture or rather "Eloge de Racine" was beautifully given by the
Abbe Vignot. It was not very easy for a priest to pronounce from the
pulpit an eulogium on the poet and dramatic author who had strayed so
far from the paths of grace and the early teachings of Port Royal,
where the "petit Racine" had been looked upon as a model pupil
destined to rise high in the ecclesiastical world; but the orator made
us see through the sombre tragedies of Phedre, Britannicus and others
the fine nature of the poet, who understood so humanly the passions
that tempt and warp the soul, and show