becoming excited, broke into a gallop for a while.

This served to cement their acquaintance. They all began to chat.

They had scarcely reached the house and had all alighted, when Antoine
conducted his sweetheart to a room, so that she might take off her dress,
to avoid staining it, as she was going to prepare a nice dish, intended
to win the old people's affections through their stomachs. He drew his
parents outside the house, and, with beating heart, asked:

"Well, what do you say now?"

The father said nothing. The mother, less timid, exclaimed:

"She is too black. No, indeed, this is too much for me. It turns my
blood."

"You will get used to it," said Antoine.

"Perhaps so, but not at first."

They went into the house, where the good woman was somewhat affected at
the spectacle of the negress engaged in cooking. She at once proceeded to
assist her, with petticoats tucked up, active in spite of her age.

The meal was an excellent one, very long, very enjoyable. When they were
taking a turn after dinner, Antoine took his father aside.

"Well, dad, what do you say about it?"