usband sprang out first and then
held out his arms for his wife, and as the step was very high Madame
Dufour, in order to reach him, had to show the lower part of her limbs,
whose former slenderness had disappeared in fat, and Monsieur Dufour, who
was already getting excited by the country air, pinched her calf, and
then, taking her in his arms, he set her on the ground, as if she had
been some enormous bundle. She shook the dust out of the silk dress and
then looked round to see in what sort of a place she was.

She was a stout woman, of about thirty-six, full-blown, and delightful to
look at. She could hardly breathe, as her corsets were laced too tightly,
and their pressure forced her superabundant bosom up to her double chin.
Next the girl placed her hand on her father's shoulder and jumped down
lightly. The boy with the yellow hair had got down by stepping on the
wheel, and he helped Monsieur Dufour to lift his grandmother out. Then
they unharnessed the horse, which they had tied to a tree, and the
carriage fell back, with both shafts in the air. The men took off their
coats and washed their hands in a pail of water and then went and joined
the ladies, who had already taken possession of the swings.

Mademoiselle Dufour was trying to swing herself standing up, but she
could not succeed in getting a start. She was a pretty girl of about
eighteen, one of those women who suddenly excite your desire when you
meet them in the street and who leave you with a vague feeling of
uneasiness and of excited senses. She was tall, had a small waist and
large hips, with a dark skin, very large eyes and very black hair. Her
dress clearly marked the outlines of her firm, full figure, which was
accentuated by the motion of her hips as she tried to swing herself
higher. Her arms were stretched upward to hold the rope, so that her
bosom rose at every movement she made. Her hat, which a gust of wind had
blown off, was hanging behind her, and as the swing gradually rose higher
and higher, she showed her delicate limbs up to the knees each time, and
the breeze from her flying skirts, which was more heady than the fumes of
wine, blew into the faces of the two men, who were looking at her and
smiling.

Sitting in the other swing, Madame Dufour kept saying in a monotonous
voice:

"Cyprian, come and swing me; do come and swing me, Cyprian!"

At last he went, and turning up his shirt sleeves, as if undertaking a
hard piece of work, with m