had he not spoken to the
old man? And now no one could tell him who they were, and whither the
child had gone.

For a while Roland gazed at the flowers before him, but picked up none
of them. Griffin barked at him, as if to say, Yes, and men assert that
there are no more miracles! He sniffed round the gathered flowers, then
ran off on the track of the child and of the carriage, as if he wished
to fulfil his master's desire to detain the people, that he might talk
with them. Roland whistled and called him; Griffin came, and Roland
reproved him:--

"You don't deserve to have any sausage, you are so unfaithful."

Griffin lay down beseechingly at his feet; he could not explain how
good his intention had been.

"Well, now we will go," said Roland. And they took up their march
again.

He heard the whistle of a locomotive in the distance, and went in that
direction. The wood was soon passed, and the road led again through
vineyards. On a side-path Roland saw several women carrying powdered
slate, from a great heap, into a newly-planted vineyard. On its border,
near a hedge, burned a fire, close to which stood pots, whose contents
an old woman was stirring with a dry bough. Roland stopped, and the old
woman called out to ask him to join them; he went up to the group, and
saw that coffee was boiling. The other women, young and old, came
nearer, and there was much jesting and laughter. They turned their
baskets up and sat upon them; such a seat was also prepared for Roland,
and a sort of cushion placed upon it, as they asked him whether he were
not a prince. Roland answered, no; but it flattered him to be taken for
a prince in this way; he was very condescending, and knew how to joke
with his companions. An old vine-dresser, the director of the work,
told Roland, whom he held in some regard as being of the masculine
gender, that he drank no coffee: it was a stupid custom, which sent
money out of the country to America, never to come back.

Roland was struck by this second mention of America. The whole party
listened attentively when he told them that it was not coffee, but
sugar, which came from America.

"And our sugar," said the old woman, "has all staid in America, for we
haven't any."

The first cup, and the cream off the milk, were given to Roland, with a
bit of black bread. He wished to give the people something in payment,
but now discovered that he had not his porte-monnaie about him. He knew
that he had had it