uff in among the sober European wood scents, it was as if foreign birds
with foreign screams were flying among the trees. Frans Roey at once
affirmed that the native birds were thereby inspired with new song.
Never had they sung so gloriously as they were singing that morning.

Alice's fear of an explosion increased. She tried to avoid it by drawing
his attention to the contrasts of colour in wood and meadow and
distance. The drive out to La Bagatelle is peculiarly rich in these. But
Frans was sitting with his back to the horses; he had to turn away from
Mary and Alice every time to see what Alice wanted him to look at. This
made him impatient, the more so as Mary and he were each time
interrupted in their conversation.

"Shall we not rather get out and walk a little?" said he.

But Alice was more afraid of this than anything. What might he not take
into his head next?

"Do look about you!" she exclaimed. "Is it not as if the colours here
were singing in chorus?"

"Where?" said Frans crossly.

"Goodness! Don't you see all the varieties of green in the wood itself?
Just look! And then the green of the meadow against these?"

"I have no desire to see it! Not an atom!" He turned towards the ladies
again and laughed. "Would it not really be better to get down?" he
insisted again. "It's ever so much pleasanter to walk in the wood than
to look at it. The same with the meadows."

"It is forbidden to walk on the grass."

"Confound it! Then let us walk on the road, and look at it all. That is
surely better than being cooped up in a carriage."

Mary agreed with him.

"Do you suppose that it was to walk I drove you out here? It was to see
that historic house, La Bagatelle, and the wood surrounding it. There is
nothing like it anywhere. And then I meant to go as far into the country
as possible. We can't do all this if we are to walk."

This appeal kept them quiet for a time. The owner of the carriage must
be allowed to decide. But now Mary, too, was in wild spirits. Her eyes,
usually thoughtful, shone with happiness. To-day she laughed at all
Frans's jokes; she laughed at nothing at all. She was perpetually
coveting flowers which she saw; and each time they had to stop, to
gather both flowers and leaves. She filled the carriage with them, until
Alice at last protested. Then she flung them all out, and insisted on
being allowed to get out herself.

They stopped and alighted.

They had long ago passed La Bagatelle.