of net. The face of Agnès when she saw it!

[Sidenote: _A Necessary Precaution_]

Dinner was not until seven, so Jean and I went out for a walk; as
Hippolyte advised us to try and find a chemist and buy some flea
powder. "Je trouverai ça plus prudent," he said. Jean is getting quite
natural with me now, and isn't so awfully polite. The chemist took us
for a honeymoon couple (as, of course, if I had been French I could not
have gone for a walk with Jean alone). He--the chemist--was so
sympathetic, he had only one packet of powder left, he said, as so much
was required by the _voyageurs_ and inhabitants that he was out of it
(that did not sound a pleasant prospect for our night)--"Mais, madame"
(that's me), "n'est pas assez grasse pour les attirer," he added by way
of consolation.

It was spitting with rain when we got back, and they all made such a
fuss for fear I had got wet, and they would not for worlds stir out of
doors to see the church or anything, which I heard is very picturesque.
We had such an amusing dinner, the food was wonderful, considering the
place, but a _horrible_ cloth and pewter forks and spoons. There were
two _officiers_ at another table (only infantry), and they were _so_
interested in our party.

[Sidenote: _Close Quarters_]

"Antoine" sat next to me, and in a pause in the general conversation he
said to me (it is the first time he has addressed me directly), "Il
fait mauvais temps, mademoiselle." I have heard him saying all kinds of
_drôle_ things to the others, so it shows he can be quite intelligent.