“Yes, I am if you are. He is a brave _garçon_, but I feel more at home with that big Jean. I am used to those like him. He reminds me of the men who worked in the fields near my village. I could never have offered Nenette and Rintintin to Monsieur Victor, but to Jean, yes, it was quite another thing; it was quite natural.” “But you chattered away like a _babillarde_ at the restaurant this morning.” “Very true, but when I am excited I can do that. It is not that one is afraid, but that one does not wish.” The swallows circled high above the chimneys. The sun-shot clouds turned to gray. The garden became an indistinct mass of grass and foliage, and then the girls turned away. They started early the next day. Paulette all in a twitter of excitement. Had monsieur the safe-conducts? Where was her green umbrella? They must not forget to give Mathilde the key. What was the time? They must not be late. At last the station was reached. Miss Lowndes came running up at the last moment with chocolate and fruit, and, best of all, with a storybook in English for Lucie. The train moved out. Paris was left behind. Past towns and quiet villages, past green fields and budding forests, and finally at a small station they left the train. There was a little village beyond, and beyond the village stretched the cultivated ground of farmsteads. Victor looked around and finally hailed an old man with a _charrette_. “Ah, Jules, you are here. That is good.” He turned to Lucie. “Will you go in the _charrette_ or will you walk?” “How far is it?” “About a mile, perhaps less. We can go in the _charrette_ and Jules can come back for the luggage. The horse is rather old, you see, and perhaps it would be best to spare him too heavy a load.” “I think I should prefer to walk after sitting so long, and then one can see the country better.” “Very well. And you Paulette, you Odette?” “We will walk, monsieur,” both replied. So they started off at a brisk pace, the old man with the ancient horse bringing up the rear. War had not touched this corner of the world set apart from the raging of battles, the stir of camps. All was of a Sabbath quiet, but there were only women and children working in the fields. In the trees where young leaves were putting out, birds were nesting. A lark soared singing overhead. It seemed as if he might at last reach the drift of white clouds piled up in the blue. Presently they came to a little shrine set by the roadside. With one accord all knelt for a moment. There were tears in Lucie’s eyes when she arose. “It has been so long since I saw one of those,” she whispered to Odette. “Do I not know? Do I not know?” returned Odette in a tremulous voice. “It is like coming home again.” The little cart with the jogging horse passed them and went on. Victor made a signal to Jules as he passed, which was answered by an understanding nod. “You seem to know that old man,” remarked Lucie. “I have seen him once or twice before,” responded Victor.