_Bonne maman_ was devoted to my father, even more devoted than to her own sons, of whom she had had eight. They had been so severely brought up by her, but especially, I feel sure, by my grandfather, that through exaggerated respect and absurd ceremony they almost trembled during the short audiences granted to them by their parents. My father trembled before nobody. He was always cheerful, good-tempered, and kind. During our life at Quimper he was not much at home, as he had a horror of receptions and visits,--all the bother, as he said, of social life,--and the time not spent in hunting was fully occupied in seeing after his farms, his crops, and his peasants. Therefore, when he came back for a three-or-four-days' stay with us, it was a delight to young and old. I see him now, sitting in a low chair beside _bonne maman's_ deep _bergère_, his head close to hers, his pipe between his teeth,--yes, his pipe--for _bonne maman_ not only permitted, but even commanded, him to smoke in her presence, so much did she value every moment of the time he could be with her. So they smiled at each other while they talked,--the snowy, powdered old head and the fair young one enveloped in the midst of smoke,--understanding each other perfectly; and although their opinions were diametrically opposed, politics was their favorite theme. They must have taught me their respective battle-cries, for I well remember that, riding my father's knee and listening, while he varied the gait from trot to gallop, I knew just when to cry out, "_Vive le Roi!_" in order to please _bonne maman_, and "_Vive la République!_" to make papa laugh. When disputes occurred in _bonne maman's_ room, they were between my father and mother, if that can be called a dispute where one is so gay and so imperturbable. It was _maman_ who brought all the heat and vehemence to these differences, and, strange to say, _bonne maman_ always took my father's side against her beloved daughter. My mother's quick temper, I may add, displayed itself toward me pretty frequently in slaps and whippings, no doubt well deserved, for I was a naughty, wilful child; whereas in all my life I never received a punishment from my father. I remember his distress on one of these occasions and how he said, "It is unworthy to beat some one who cannot retaliate." To which my mother, flushed and indignant, replied, "It would indeed need only that." She was a charming and lovable woman, but I loved my father best. [Illustration: "I heard music constantly"]