deferential attitude before the President and M. Ducros, for they
belonged to the magistrature assise, whilst he merely formed part of
the magistrature debout The French word magistrat is not the equivalent
of our magistrate, the French term for which is "Juge de Paix." A
magistrat means a Judge or a Public Prosecutor.

From being so much with the judges, I grew quite learned in French
legal terms, talked of the parquet (which means the Bar), and
invariably termed the grubby little Nyons law-court the Palais. I
rather fancy that I considered myself a sort of honorary member of the
French Bar. Strictly speaking, Palais only applies to a Court of Law;
old-fashioned Frenchmen always speak of the Chateau de Versailles, or
the Chateau de Fontainbleau, never of the Palais.

There was always plenty to see in these little southern towns whilst
the judges were at work. In one village there was a perfume factory,
where essential oils of sweet-scented geranium, verbena, lavender, and
thyme were distilled for the wholesale Paris perfumers; a fragrant
place, where every operation was carried on with that minute attention
to detail which the French carry into most things that they do, for,
unlike the inhabitants of an adjacent island, they consider that if a
thing is worth doing at all, it is worth taking trouble over.

In another village there was a wholesale dealer in silkworms' eggs,
imported direct from China. Besides the eggs, he had a host of Chinese
curios to dispose of, besides quaint little objects in everyday use in
China.

Above all there was Grignan, with its huge and woefully dilapidated
chateau, the home of Mme. de Sevigne's daughter, the Comtesse de
Grignan. It was to Grignan that this queen of letter-writers addressed
much of her correspondence to her adored daughter, between 1670 and
1695, and Mme. de Sevigne herself was frequently a visitor there.

Occasionally the judges, the Substitut, and I made excursions further
afield by diligence to Orange, Vaucluse, and Avignon, quite outside our
judicial orbit. Orange, a drowsy little spot, has still a splendid
Roman triumphal arch and a Roman theatre in the most perfect state of
preservation. Orange was once a little independent principality, and
gives its name to the Royal Family of Holland, the sister of the last
of the Princes of Orange having married the Count of Nassau, whence the
House of Orange-Nassau. Indirectly, sleepy little Orange has also given
its name to