mer slenderness had disappeared in fat, and Monsieur
Dufour, who was already getting excited by the country air, pinched her
calf, and then, taking her in his arms, he set her on the ground, as if
she had been some enormous bundle. She shook the dust out of the silk
dress and then looked round to see in what sort of a place she was.

She was a stout woman, of about thirty-six, full-blown, and delightful
to look at. She could hardly breathe, as her corsets were laced too
tightly, and their pressure forced her superabundant bosom up to her
double chin. Next the girl placed her hand on her father's shoulder
and jumped down lightly. The boy with the yellow hair had got down
by stepping on the wheel, and he helped Monsieur Dufour to lift his
grandmother out. Then they unharnessed the horse, which they had tied to
a tree, and the carriage fell back, with both shafts in the air. The men
took off their coats and washed their hands in a pail of water and then
went and joined the ladies, who had already taken possession of the
swings.

Mademoiselle Dufour was trying to swing herself standing up, but she
could not succeed in getting a start. She was a pretty girl of about
eighteen, one of those women who suddenly excite your desire when
you meet them in the street and who leave you with a vague feeling of
uneasiness and of excited senses. She was tall, had a small waist and
large hips, with a dark skin, very large eyes and very black hair. Her
dress clearly marked the outlines of her firm, full figure, which was
accentuated by the motion of her hips as she tried to swing herself
higher. Her arms were stretched upward to hold the rope, so that her
bosom rose at every movement she made. Her hat, which a gust of wind
had blown off, was hanging behind her, and as the swing gradually rose
higher and higher, she showed her delicate limbs up to the knees each
time, and the breeze from her flying skirts, which was more heady than
the fumes of wine, blew into the faces of the two men, who were looking
at her and smiling.

Sitting in the other swing, Madame Dufour kept saying in a monotonous
voice:

"Cyprian, come and swing me; do come and swing me, Cyprian!"

At last he went, and turning up his shirt sleeves, as if undertaking a
hard piece of work, with much difficulty he set his wife in motion.
She clutched the two ropes and held her legs out straight, so as not to
touch the ground. She enjoyed feeling dizzy at the motion of the swin