In a large farm near Boursonne there was much animation and
conversation. All the beasts were in, oxen, cows, horses, chickens,
and in one corner, a flock of geese. The poor little "goose girl," a
child about ten years old with bright-blue eyes and a pig-tail like
straw hanging down her back, was being scolded violently by the
farmer's wife, who was presiding in person over the rentrée of the
animals, for having brought her geese home on a run. They wouldn't
eat, and would certainly all be ill, and probably die before morning.
There is a pretty little old château at Boursonne; the park, however,
so shut in by high walls that one sees nothing in passing. W. had shot
there once or twice in former years, but it has changed hands very
often.

[Illustration: Long pauses when nobody seemed to have anything to say.]

Sometimes we paid more humble visits, not to châteaux, but to the
principal people of the little country town near, from which we had
all our provisions. We went to see the doctor's wife, the notary's
wife, the mayor's wife, and the two schools--the asile or infant
school, and the more important school for bigger girls. The old doctor
was quite a character, had been for years in the country, knew
everybody and everybody's private history. He was the doctor of the
château, by the year, attended to everybody, masters and servants, and
received a regular salary, like a secretary. He didn't come very often
for us in his medical capacity, but he often dropped in at the end of
the day to have a talk with W. The first time I saw him W. presented
him to me, as un bon ami de la famille. I naturally put out my hand,
which so astonished and disconcerted him (he barely touched the tips
of my fingers) that I was rather bewildered. W. explained after he had