savage, scarcely clothed--a short petticoat in holes and a ragged
bodice gaping open over her bare skin, no shoes or stockings; big
black eyes set deep in her head, and a quantity of unkempt black hair.
She looked enormous when she stood up, her head nearly touching the
roof. I didn't feel very comfortable, but we were two, and the
carriage and Hubert within call. The woman was civil enough when she
saw I had not come empty-handed. We took her some soup, bread, and
milk. The children pounced upon the bread like little wild animals.
The mother didn't touch anything while we were there--said she was
glad to have the milk for the boy. I never saw human beings living in
such utter filth and poverty. A crofter's cottage in Scotland, or an
Irish hovel with the pigs and children all living together, was a
palace compared to that awful hole. I remonstrated vigorously with W.
and the Mayor of La Ferté for allowing people to live in that way,
like beasts, upon the highroad, close to a perfectly prosperous
country town. However, they were vagrants, couldn't live anywhere, for
when we passed again, some days later, there was no one in the hole.
The door had fallen down, there was no smoke coming out, and the
neighbours told us the family had suddenly disappeared. The
authorities then took up the matter--the holes were filled up, and no
one was allowed to live in them. It really was too awful--like the
dwellers in caves of primeval days.

We didn't have many visits at the château, though we were so near
Paris (only about an hour and a half by the express), but the old
people had got accustomed to their quiet life, and visitors would have
worried them. Sometimes a Protestant pasteur would come down for two
days. We had a nice visit once from M. de Pressensé, father of the
present deputy, one of the most charming, cultivated men one could
imagine. He talked easily and naturally, using beautiful language. He