We drove into a large courtyard, or rather farmyard, quite deserted; no one visible anywhere; the door of the house was open, but there was no bell nor apparently any means of communicating with any one. Hubert cracked his whip noisily several times without any result, and we were just wondering what we should do (perhaps put our cards under a stone on the steps) when a man appeared, said Mme. B. was at home, but she was in the stable looking after a sick cow--he would go and tell her we were there. In a few minutes she appeared, attired in a short, rusty-black skirt, sabots on her feet, and a black woollen shawl over her head and shoulders. She seemed quite pleased to see us, was not at all put out at being caught in such very simple attire, begged us to come in, and ushered us through a long, narrow hall and several cold, comfortless rooms, the shutters not open, and no fires anywhere, into her bedroom. All the furniture--chairs, tables, and bed--was covered with linen. She explained that it was her _lessive_ (general wash) she had just made, that all the linen was _dry_, but she had not had time to put it away, and she called a maid, and they cleared off two chairs--she sat on the bed. It was frightfully cold. We were thankful we had kept our wraps on. She said she supposed we would like a fire after our long cold drive, and rang for a man to bring some wood. He (in his shirt-sleeves) appeared with two or three logs of wood, and was preparing to make a fire with them _all_, but she stopped him, said one log was enough, the ladies were not going to stay long; so, naturally, we had no fire and clouds of smoke. She was very talkative, never stopped, told us all about her servants, her husband's political campaigns.... She asked a great many questions, answering them all herself; then said, 'I don't offer you any tea, as I know you always go back to have your tea at home, and I am quite sure you don't want any wine.' Washing days only occur in large French households once a quarter, or at the most monthly, so when the moment arrives the whole establishment is in a ferment. An orgy of soap-suds takes place, and coaling ship in the Navy is scarcely more disturbing to the even flow of daily affairs. Conversation, where people seldom paid a visit to Paris, ran always in a groove in the _chateaux_ and lesser houses described by the young American. The subjects were the woods, the hunting, the schoolmaster, the _cure_, local gossip, and much about the iniquities of the Republic.