"Didn't I tell you my nephew was a sly one, and that it's a sort of rosière, as you might say, that he's brought from Paris?" Auguste added his congratulations to those of the other guests. At daybreak, weary of dancing and eating, he went to bed, leaving the dauntless Bertrand to hold his own with three farmers, two of whom were all ready to slide under the table. Auguste and his faithful companion passed the week of the wedding festivities at Monsieur Eustache's farm; and during that time the bride gave the young man several more sittings, for she always found something to change in her nose or her eye or her ear. At the end of the week the travellers resumed their journey, not without an invitation from Monsieur Cadet to repeat their visit. "_Beati pauperes spiritu!_" said Auguste as they left the farm. To which Bertrand replied: "Yes, lieutenant. Here is one place at all events where you have behaved yourself." XXIV A SKETCH OF ITALY Auguste and Bertrand arrived at Turin, undelayed by any fresh adventure. They took rooms at a modest hotel, for, before continuing their journey, Auguste desired to make the acquaintance of that pleasant Italian city, where one may fancy oneself in France, and where reigns an attractive mixture of French manners and Italian morals. The ladies of Turin are pretty, agreeable and piquant; in addition to the charm of our Frenchwomen they have more fire in their glance, a more sensuous intonation to the voice, more abandon in their bearing. Bertrand, observing that his master gazed persistently at the Italian women, said to him again and again: "Look out, lieutenant; we are travelling in search of fortune and not of conquests; we didn't come to Italy to admire black eyes and Greek noses." "True, Bertrand; but as we find them here, there's no reason why we shouldn't admire them." "Remember, monsieur, that the fine arts alone are to occupy your mind." "The sight of a lovely woman kindles the flame of genius. Raphael was in love with his Madonna model." "Perhaps that wasn't the best thing he did, lieutenant." "Bertrand, you understand nothing about art." "Perhaps not, but I know enough about it to calculate." "I want to paint one of these charming heads that have caught my eye; I want to take for a model one of the piquant faces that I notice among the girls of this region." "In that case you will do like Monsieur Raphael, you will fall in love with your model." "So much the better, if it results in my producing a chef-d'oeuvre." "I'm afraid that it will result in your producing something else." "Have you heard them sing, Bertrand?" "Who, monsieur?" "The young girls in the suburbs, the villagers, the simple working-girls; they all sing with such taste and harmony! I hear delightful concerts every evening when I am walking. We are in the land of music, my friend." "I should prefer to be in the land of gold mines."