e deposits of night-soil. A man whom they met told
them that the name of the place was Bezons; so Monsieur Dufour pulled
up, and read the attractive announcement outside an eating-house:

"Restaurant Poulin, stews and fried fish, private rooms, arbors, and
swings."

"Well! Madame Dufour, will this suit you? Will you make up your mind at
last?"

She read the announcement in her turn, and then looked at the house for
a time.

It was a white country inn, built by the road-side, and through the
open door she could see the bright zinc of the counter, at which two
workmen out for the day were sitting. At last she made up her mind, and
said:

"Yes, this will do; and, besides, there is a view."

So they drove into a large yard studded with trees, behind the inn,
which was only separated from the river by the towing-path, and got
out. The husband sprang out first, and held out his arms for his wife.
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. Monsieur Dufour, who was already getting excited by
the country air, pinched her calf, and then, taking her in his arms,
set her on to 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 she was laced too tightly,
which forced the heaving mass of her superabundant bosom up to her
double chin. Next, the girl put her hand on to her father's shoulder,
and jumped lightly down. The youth with the yellow hair had got down by
stepping on the wheel, and he helped Monsieur Dufour to get the
grandmother out. Then they unharnessed the horse, which they tied up to
a tree, and the carriage fell back, with both shafts in the air. The
man and boy took off their coats, washed their hands in a pail of
water, and then 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 v