get a _jupon_, and with rheumatism, too."

"Haven't you heard the news?" asked her companion with city-bred scorn.

"Ah? What news?" The crisp old face crinkled with anticipation.

"Why, Mademoiselle Gaston is to be married today."

"_Tiens, tiens! est-ce possible?_ What happiness for that good girl!"
and Madame Talon, forgetful of the loss of her _jupon_, smiled a
wrinkled smile till her nose nearly touched her chin, and her eyes
receding into well worn little puckers, became two snapping black
points.

"Is it really so? And the bridegroom--who is he?"

There followed that vivacious exchange of questions and answers and
speculations which accompanies the announcement of a marriage the world
over.

Mademoiselle Gaston was the daughter of an ancient family of Noyon. But
now, her ancestral home was a heap of debris, a tomb for men of many
nations, which she did not like to visit. She took me there once, and we
walked through the old tennis court where a little summer house remained
untouched, its jaunty frailty seeming to mock at the desolation of all
that is solid.

"Ah, I have had good times here," she said in the expressionless voice
of one who has endured too much.