black velvet; and some had a brooch to match. Here, sitting round a
table under a tree, we came upon a family group, consisting of a little
plump, bald-headed _bourgeois_ with his wife and two children--the wife
stout and rosy; the children noisy and authoritative. They were
discussing a dish of poached eggs and a bottle of red wine, to the music
of a polka close by.

"I should like to dance," said the little girl, drumming with her feet
against the leg of the table, and eating an egg with her fingers. "I may
dance presently with Phillippe, may I not, papa?"

"I won't dance," said Phillippe sulkily. "I want some oysters."

"Oysters, _mon enfant_! I have told you twice already that no one eats
oysters in July," observed his mother.

"I don't care for that," said Phillippe. "It's my _fete_ day, and Uncle
Jacques said I was to have whatever I fancied; I want some oysters."

"Your Uncle Jacques did not know what an unreasonable boy you are,"
replied the father angrily. "If you say another word about oysters, you
shall not ride in the _manege_ to-night."

Phillippe thrust his fists into his eyes and began to roar--so we walked
away.

In an arbor, a little further on, we saw two young people whispering
earnestly, and conscious of no eyes but each other's.

"A pair of lovers," said Sullivan.

"And a pair that seldom get the chance of meeting, if we may judge by
their untasted omelette," replied Dalrymple. "But where's the
bridal party?"

"Oh, we shall find them presently. You seem interested."

"I am. I mean to dance with the bride and make the bridegroom jealous."

We laughed and passed on, peeping into every arbor, observing every
group, and turning to stare at every pretty girl we met. My own aptitude
in the acquisition of these arts of gallantry astonished myself. Now, we
passed a couple of soldiers playing at dominoes; now a noisy party round
a table in the open air covered with bottles; now an arbor where half a
dozen young men and three or four girls were assembled round a bowl of
blazing punch. The girls were protesting they dare not drink it, but
were drinking it, nevertheless, with exceeding gusto.

"Grisettes and _commis voyageurs!_" said Dalrymple, contemptuously. "Let
us go and look at the dancers."

We went on, and stood in the shelter of some trees near the orchestra.
The players consisted of three violins, a clarionette and a big drum.
The big drum was an enthusiastic performer. He belabored h