"Do you know where one can get a good luncheon in the neighborhood of
Paris?"

"Go to the Terrace at Saint-Germain; it is delightful there!"

He had been there formerly, just when he became engaged. He made up his
mind to go there again, and he chose a Sunday, for no special reason, but
merely because people generally do go out on Sundays, even when they have
nothing to do all the week; and so one Sunday morning he went to
Saint-Germain. He felt low-spirited and vexed at having yielded to that
new longing, and at having broken through his usual habits. He was
thirsty; he would have liked to get out at every station and sit down in
the cafe which he saw outside and drink a "bock" or two, and then take
the first train back to Paris. The journey seemed very long to him. He
could remain sitting for whole days, as long as he had the same
motionless objects before his eyes, but he found it very trying and
fatiguing to remain sitting while he was being whirled along, and to see
the whole country fly by, while he himself was motionless.

However, he found the Seine interesting every time he crossed it. Under
the bridge at Chatou he saw some small boats going at great speed under
the vigorous strokes of the bare-armed oarsmen, and he thought: "There
are some fellows who are certainly enjoying themselves!" The train
entered the tunnel just before you get to the station at Saint-Germain,
and presently stopped at the platform. Parent got out, and walked slowly,
for he already felt tired, toward the Terrace, with his hands behind his
back, and when he got to the iron balustrade, stopped to look at the
distant horizon. The immense plain spread out before him vast as the sea,
green and studded with large villages, almost as populous as towns. The