out first, and then held out his arms for his wife, and
as the step was very high, Madame Dufour, in order to reach him, had to
show the lower part of her limbs, whose former slenderness had
disappeared in fat, the Monsieur Dufour, who was already getting excited
by the country air, pinched her calf, and then taking her in his arms,
he set her onto the ground, as if she had been some enormous bundle. She
shook the dust out of the silk dress, and then looked round, to see in
what sort of a place she was.

She was a stout woman, of about thirty-six, full-blown and delightful to
look at. She could hardly breathe, as her stays were laced too tightly,
and their pressure forced the heaving mass of her superabundant bosom up
to her double chin. Next, the girl put her hand onto her father's
shoulder, and jumped lightly out. The boy with the yellow hair had got
down by stepping on the wheel, and he helped Monsieur Dufour to get his
grandmother out. Then they unharnessed the horse, which they tied up to
a tree, and the carriage fell back, with both shafts in the air. The men
took off their coats, and washed their hands in a pail of water, and
then went and joined their ladies who had already taken possession of
the swings.

Mademoiselle Dufour was trying to swing herself standing up, but she
could not succeed in getting a start. She was a pretty girl of about
eighteen; one of those women who suddenly excite your desire when you
meet them in the street, and who leave you with a vague feeling of
uneasiness, and of excited senses. She was tall, had a small waist and
large hips, with a dark skin, very large eyes, and very black hair. Her
dress clearly marked the outlines of her firm, full figure, which was
accentuated by the motion of her hips as she tried to swing herself
higher. Her arms were stretched over her head to hold the rope, so that
her bosom rose at every movement she made. Her hat, which a gust of wind
had blown off, was hanging behind her, and as the swing gradually rose
higher and higher, she showed her delicate limbs up to the knees each
time, and the wind from the petticoats, which was more heady than the
fumes of wine, blew into the faces of the two men, who were looking at
her and smiling.

Sitting in the other swing, Madame Dufour kept saying in a monotonous
voice:

"Cyprian, come and swing me; do come and swing me, Cyprian!"

At last he went, and turning up his shirt sleeves as if he intended to
work very h