our thoughts.

As I've told you, the German horror is phaeton-seated, and for me in
front to talk comfortably to any lady behind is not easy. In driving,
one can't take one's attention much off the road, so Miss Molly has to
lean forward and shout over my shoulder. A curious and delightful kind
of understanding is growing up between us. You know that the history of
this part of France is fairly familiar to me, and I've already done the
castles twice before. What I've forgotten, I've studied up in the
evenings, so as to be indispensable to Miss Randolph. At first she spoke
to me very little, only a kind word now and then such as one throws to a
servant; but I could hear much of what she said to her aunt, and her
comments on things in general were sprightly and original. She had
evidently read a good deal, looked at things freshly, and brought to
bear on the old Court history of France her own quaint point of view.
Her enthusiasm was ever ready--bubbling, but never gushing, and I
eagerly kept an ear to the windward not to miss the murmur of the
geographical and historical fountain behind my back.

"Aunt Mary," on the contrary, has a vague and ordinary mind, being more
interested in what she is going to have for luncheon than in what she is
going to see. The girl, therefore, is rather thrown back upon herself. I
burned to join in the talk, yet I dared not step out of the character I
had assumed. As it turned out, fortune was waiting to befriend me.

We were bowling along through Meung, when I suddenly spied on the other
side of the river the square and heavy mass of Notre Dame de Clery, and
almost without thinking, I pointed it out to Miss Randolph. "There is
Clery," I said, "where Louis the Eleventh is buried. You remember, in
_Quentin Durward_? The church is worth seeing. It's almost a pity we
didn't go that side of the river." Then I stopped, rather confused,
fearing I had given myself away. There was a moment's astonished
silence, and I was afraid Miss Randolph would see the back of my neck
getting red.

"Why, _Brown_!" she cried, leaning forward over my shoulder, "you know
these things; you've read history?"

"Oh yes, miss," I said. "I've read a bit here and there, such books as I
could get hold of. I was always interested in history and architecture,
and that sort of thing. Besides," I went on hastily, "I've travelled
this road before with a gentleman who knows a good deal about this part
of France."

I don't