, it is most
interesting and picturesque. Am I not right, cher ami?" turning to her
husband.

"You are always right," replied Monsieur gallantly.

"Oh, that is prejudice," laughed Madame. "But le Pardon of St
Jean-du-Doigt, with its procession winding up the hill, its bonfire, its
religious observances, is quite exceptionally interesting. I am sure
when I saw the _dragon_ go off from the tower and set fire to the
_bucher_, and heard the charge of musketry and roll of drums, I could
have thrown myself off the platform with emotion."

"A mercy for me you did not," replied our host, who was evidently in a
very amiable mood that morning. The fair was over and many had left the
hotel, and he had more time for repose.

"I hope monsieur has come back with an appetite," said Catherine,
referring to H.C., when we had taken our seats at the table d'hote. We
were early, and the first in the room. "It is of no use running about
the country and exhausting our fresh air if one is to remain as thin as
a leg of a stork and as pale as Pierrot."

[Illustration: MAKING PANCAKES AT THE REGATTA.]

"Where is our vis-a-vis?" we asked, pointing to the empty chair opposite
and the very conspicuous vacuum it presented.

"He is gone, thank goodness--with last year's swallows," cried
Catherine. "But, alas, he will come back again--like the swallows. Some
people bear a charmed life."

"You will find him improved, perhaps."

"_Enlarged_," retorted Catherine, "and with a more capacious
appetite--if that be possible; that will be the only change. They say
there are limits to all things--I shall never believe it now."

And then the few who were now in the hotel came in, and dinner began;
and Catherine's presence filled the room, cap streamers seemed floating
about in all directions; and her voice was every now and then heard
proclaiming LA SUITE.

And later on, in the darkness, we went out according to our custom, and
revelled in the old-world streets, the latticed windows, still lighted
up, waiting for the curfew--real or figurative, public or domestic. For
we all have our curfews, only they are not proclaimed from some ancient
tower; and, alas, they are, like Easter, a movable institution; whereby
it comes to pass that we too often waste the midnight oil and burn the
candle at both ends, and before our time fall into the "sere and yellow
leaf."

ACROSS THE RIVER.

Here we sat beside the river
Long ago, my Love and