Towards noon we saw Celeste come on deck with her second son, both
carrying baskets full of plates, dishes, covers, and a tablecloth. You
remember I have often told you of an awning stretched at the stern of the
flatboat? We found that in fine weather our dining-room was to be under
this. There was no table; the cloth was simply spread on the deck, and
those who ate had to sit _à la Turque_ or take their plates on their
knees. The Irish family ate in their room. Just as we were drawing around
our repast Madame Carpentier, on her husband's arm, came up on deck.

Dear little Alix! I see you yet as I saw you then. And here, twenty-seven
years after our parting, I have before me the medallion you gave me, and
look tenderly on your dear features, my friend!

She had not changed her dress; only she had replaced her camail with a
scarf of blue silk about her neck and shoulders and had removed her gloves
and _capuche_. Her rich chestnut hair, unpowdered, was combed back _à la
Chinoise_, and the long locks that descended upon her shoulders were tied
by a broad blue ribbon forming a rosette on the forepart of her head. She
wore no jewelry except a pearl at each ear and her wedding ring. Suzanne,
who always saw everything, remarked afterward that Madame Carpentier wore
two.

"As for her earrings," she added, "they are nothing great. Marianne has
some as fine, that cost, I think, ten dollars."

Poor Suzanne, a judge of jewelry! Madame Carpentier's earrings were two
great pearls, worth at least two hundred dollars. Never have I met another
so charming, so lovely, as Alix Carpentier. Her every movement was grace.
She moved, spoke, smiled, and in all things acted differently from all the