came to the assembly with tranquil steps, smiling countenances and open
hands, big hands, red and bony, accustomed to work and apparently tired
of their temporary rest.

A clown was blowing a trumpet. The barrel-organ accompanying the
carrousel sent through the air its shrill jerky notes. The lottery-wheel
made a whirring sound like that of cloth tearing, and every moment the
crack of the rifle could be heard. And the slow-moving throng passed on
quietly in front of the booths resembling paste in a fluid condition,
with the motions of a flock of sheep and the awkwardness of heavy
animals who had escaped by chance.

The girls, holding one another's arms in groups of six or eight, were
singing; the youths followed them, making jokes, with their caps over
their ears and their blouses stiffened with starch, swollen out like
blue balloons.

The whole countryside was there--masters, laboring men and women
servants.

Old Amable himself, wearing his old-fashioned green frock coat, had
wished to see the assembly, for he never failed to attend on such an
occasion.

He looked at the lotteries, stopped in front of the shooting galleries
to criticize the shots and interested himself specially in a very simple
game which consisted in throwing a big wooden ball into the open mouth
of a mannikin carved and painted on a board.

Suddenly he felt a tap on his shoulder. It was Daddy Malivoire, who
exclaimed:

"Ha, daddy! Come and have a glass of brandy."

And they sat down at the table of an open-air restaurant.

They drank one glass of brandy, then two, then three, and old Amable
once more began wandering through the assembly. His thoughts became
slightly confused, he smiled without knowing why, he smiled in front of
the lotteries, in front of the wooden horses and especially in front of
the killing game. He remained there a long time, filled with delight,
when he saw a holiday-maker knocking down the gendarme or the cure, two
authorities whom he instinctively distrusted. Then he went back to the
inn and drank a glass of cider to cool himself. It was late, night came
on. A neighbor came to warn him:

"You'll get back home late for the stew, daddy."

Then he set out on his way to the farmhouse. A soft shadow, the warm
shadow of a spring night, was slowly descending on the earth.

When he reached the front door he thought he saw through the window
which was lighted up two persons in the house. He stopped, much
surprised, th