with laughter.

Dinner must be thought of. She knew of a tavern by the river-side
where you could eat a fry of fish in the arbour, and thither
they betook themselves.

The lady from Paris and the landlady of the inn greeted each
other with a wink of the eye. It was a long time since she had
seen Madame; she had no idea who the two young gentlemen were,
but anyway they were dear little angels. Madame Ewans ordered the
meal like a connoisseur, with a knowing air and all the proper
restaurant tricks of phrase. All three sat silent, agreeably
tired and enjoying the sensation, she with her bonnet-strings
flying loose, the boys leaning back against the trellis. They
could see the river and its grassy banks through an archway of
wild vine. Their thoughts flowed softly on like the current before
their eyes, while the dusk and cool of the evening wrapped them
in a soft caress. For the first time Jean Servien, as he gazed
at Madame Ewans, felt the thrill of a woman's sweet proximity.

Presently, warmed by a trifle of wine and water he had drunk,
he became wholly lost in his dreams--visions of all sorts of
elegant, preposterous, chivalrous things. His head was still
full of these fancies when he was dragged back to the fair-ground
by Madame Ewans, who could never have enough of sight-seeing
and noise. Illuminated arches spanned at regular intervals the
broad-walk, lined on either side by stalls and trestle-tables,
but the lateral avenues gloomed dark and deserted under the tall
black trees. Loving couples paced them slowly, while the music
from the shows sounded muffled by the distance. They were still