e fete had interested them very much and they were very glad
to have come. They were rather taken aback at first when they saw the
tent, the low small stage, and the very elementary scenery--were afraid
the want of space would bother them, but they soon felt that they held
their audience, and that their voices carried perfectly. They were
rather hurried, as they were all taking the train back to Paris, except
Bartet, who had promised to stay for the banquet. I had half hoped she
would come to me, but of course I was obliged to waive my claim. When I
saw how much the Prefet and the official world held to having her--when
I heard afterwards that she had had the seat of honour next to the
Bishop I was very glad I hadn't insisted, as she certainly doesn't often
have the opportunity of sitting next to a Bishop. It seems he was
delighted with her.

We loitered about some little time, talking to all our friends. The view
from the terrace was beautiful--directly at our feet the little town,
which is literally two streets forming a long cross, the Grande Rue a
streak of light and color, filled with people moving about, and the air
alive with laughter and music. Just beyond, the long stretches of green
pasture lands, cut every now and then by narrow lanes with apple trees
and hawthorn in flower, and the canal winding along between the green
walls of poplars--the whole hemmed in by the dark blue line of the
Villers-Cotteret forest, which makes a grand sweep on the horizon.

It was lovely driving back to Mareuil, toward the bright sunset clouds.
We had a gay dinner and evening. I never dared ask where the various men
dressed who came to dinner. The house is not very large, and every room
was occupied--but as they all appeared most correctly attired, I suppose
there are resources in the way of lingerie and fumoir which are
available at such times, and Francis's valet de chambre is so accustomed
to having more people than the house can hold that he probably took his
precautions. Francis started off for the banquet at the Sauvage in his
voiturette, but that long-suffering vehicle having made hundreds of
kilometres these last days, came to grief at the foot of "la Montagne de
Marolles," and he was towed back by a friendly carter and arrived much
disgusted when we were half through dinner.

We heard all the details of the dinner from the Abbe Marechal. Certainly
the banqueting hall of the Sauvage will not soon again see such a
brillia