Grandmother, pious soul, used to wear the eccentric headdress of the Rouergue Highlanders: a large disk of black felt, stiff as a plank, adorned in the middle with a crown a finger’s-breadth high and hardly wider across than a six-franc piece. A black ribbon fastened under the chin maintained the equilibrium of this elegant, but unstable circle. Pickles, hemp, chickens, curds and whey, butter; washing the clothes, minding the children, seeing to the meals of the household: say that and you have summed up the strenuous woman’s round of ideas. On her left side, the distaff, with its load of tow; in her right hand, the spindle turning under a quick twist of her thumb, moistened at intervals with her tongue: so she went through life, unweariedly, attending to the order and the welfare of the house. I see her in my mind’s eye, particularly on winter evenings, which were more favourable to family talk. When the hour came for meals, all of us, big and little, would take our seats round a long table, on a couple of benches, deal planks supported by four rickety legs. Each found his wooden bowl and his tin spoon in front of him. At one end of the table there always stood an enormous rye-loaf, the size of a cartwheel, wrapped in a linen cloth with a pleasant smell of washing, and there it remained until nothing was left of it. With a vigorous stroke, grandfather would cut off enough for the needs of the moment; then he would divide the piece among us with the one knife which he alone was entitled to wield. It was now each one’s business to break up his bit with his fingers and to fill his bowl as he pleased. Next came grandmother’s turn. A capacious pot bubbled lustily and sang upon the flames in the hearth, exhaling an appetising savour of bacon and turnips. Armed with a long metal ladle, grandmother would take from it, for each of us in turn, first the broth, wherein to soak the bread, and next the ration of turnips and bacon, partly fat and partly lean, filling the bowl to the top. At the other end of the table was the pitcher, from which the thirsty were free to drink at will. What appetites we had, and what festive meals those were, especially when a cream-cheese, home-made, was there to complete the banquet! Near us blazed the huge fire-place, in which whole tree-trunks were consumed in the extreme cold weather. From a corner of that monumental, soot-glazed chimney, projected, at a convenient height, a slate shelf, which served to light the kitchen when we sat up late. On this we burnt slips of pine-wood, selected among the most translucent, those containing the most resin. They shed over the room a lurid red light, which saved the walnut-oil in the lamp.