a raving
lunatic who started smashing everything up, and tried to tear my eyes
out. Naturally, I gave him as good as I got, and the infernal row we
made brought in the sergeant. I told him the chap wanted to throttle
me, and he was nonplussed, for he couldn't do anything with the man, who
was fairly mad, and couldn't leave me alone there with him. So at last
the sergeant took me to one side and told me to hook it and not let him
see me again. So there it is."

While he was chattering like this Bouzille had finished the job set him
by mother Chiquard, who meanwhile had peeled some potatoes and poured
the soup on the bread. He wiped his brow, and seeing the brimming pot,
gave a meaning wink and licked his tongue.

"I'll make the fire up, mother Chiquard; I'm getting jolly hungry."

"So you ought to be, at half-past eleven," the old woman replied. "Yes,
we'll have dinner, and you can get the rushes out afterwards."

Mother Chiquard was the proud free-holder of a little cottage that was
separated from the bank of the Dordogne by the high road between Martel
and Montvalent. Round the cottage she had a small orchard, and opposite,
through a gap in the trees, was a view of the yellow waters of the
Dordogne and the chain of hills that stood up on the far side of the
river. Living here summer and winter, with her rabbits and her fowls,
mother Chiquard earned a little money by making baskets; but she was
crippled with rheumatism, and was miserable every time she had to go
down to the river to pull out the bundles of rushes that she put there
to soak; the work meant not merely an hour's paddling in mud up to the
knees, but also a fortnight's acute agony and at least a shilling for
medicine. So whoever wanted to make a friend of the old woman only had
to volunteer to get the rushes out for her.

As he ate, Bouzille told mother Chiquard of his plans for the coming
spring.

"Yes," he said, "since I'm not doing any time this winter I'm going to
undertake a long journey." He stopped munching for a second and paused
for greater effect. "I am going to Paris, mother Chiquard!" Then, seeing
that the old lady was utterly dumbfounded by the announcement, he leant
his elbows on the table and looked at her over his empty plate. "I've
always had one great desire--to see the Eiffel Tower: that idea has
been running in my head for the last fifteen years. Well, now I'm going
to gratify the wish. I hear you can get a room in Paris for
twopen