ourneville, with an accompaniment of
drums and trumpets. The melancholy plains of the Valois were transformed
tonight. In every direction we saw little twinkling lights, as the
various bands separated and struck off across the fields to some lonely
farm or mill. It is a lonely, desolate country--all great stretches of
fields and plains, with a far-away blue line of forests. We often drive
for miles without meeting a vehicle of any kind, and there are such
distances between the little hamlets and isolated farms that one is
almost uncomfortable in the absolute solitude. In winter no one is
working in the fields and one never hears a sound; a dog's bark is
welcome--it means life and movement somewhere.

[Illustration: There was some poor old woman still gazing spellbound.]

It is quite the country of the "haute culture," which Cherbuliez wrote
about in his famous novel, "La Ferme du Choquart." The farms are often
most picturesque--have been "abbayes" and monasteries. The massive round
towers, great gate-ways, and arched windows still remain;
occasionally, too, parts of a solid wall. There is a fine old
ruin--the "Commanderie," near Montigny, one of our poor little villages.
It belonged to the Knights Templars, and is most interesting. The chapel
walls are still intact, and the beautiful roof and high, narrow windows.
It is now, alas! a "poulailler" (chicken-house), and turkeys and
chickens are perched on the rafters and great beams that still support
the roof. The dwelling-house, too, is most interesting with its thick
gray walls, high narrow windows, and steep winding staircase. I was
always told there were "donjons" in the cellars, but I never had the
courage to go down the dark, damp, slippery staircase.

We were quite glad to get back to our big drawing-room with the fire and
the tea-table; for of course the drawback to our entertainment was the
stuffiness (not to say bad smell) of the little room. When all the
children and grown people got inmost of them with damp clothes and
shoes-the odour was something awful. Of course no window could be opened
on account of the candles, and the atmosphere was terrible. At the end,
when it was complicated with wine and cake and all the little ones'
faces smeared with chocolate and "dragees," I really don't know how we
stood it.

We had a very cheerful dinner. We complimented the Abbe upon his sermon,
which was really very pretty and poetical. He said the children's faces
quite