We told him how much money we had, and how we got it, and that we were going to give a present, a surprise, to Mother Barberin of Chavanon, who had looked after me when I was a baby. He showed a very kindly interest then, and promised to meet us the next morning at the fair at seven o'clock. When we asked him his charges he refused flatly to accept anything. He sent us off laughing and told us to be at the fair on time. The next day at daybreak the town was full of excitement. From our room at the inn we could hear the carts and wagons rolling over the cobblestones in the street below, and the cows bellowing, the sheep bleating, the farmers shouting at their animals and joking with each other. We jumped into our clothes and arrived at the fair at six o'clock, for we wanted to make a selection before the veterinarian arrived. What beautiful cows they were, ... all colors, and all sizes, some fat, some thin, and some with their calves; there were also horses and great fat pigs, scooping holes in the ground, and little plump sucking pigs, squealing as though they were being skinned alive. But we had eyes for nothing but the cows; they stood very quiet, placidly chewing. They permitted us to make a thorough examination, merely blinking their eyelids. After one hour's inspection, we had found seventeen that pleased us, this for one quality, that for another, a third because she was red, two because they were white, which, of course, brought up a discussion between Mattia and myself. The veterinarian arrived. We showed him the cows we liked. "I think this one ought to be a good one," Mattia said, pointing to a white animal. "I think that is a better one," I said, indicating a red one. The veterinarian stopped the argument we had begun by ignoring both and passing on to a third one. This one had slim legs, red coat with brown ears and cheeks, eyes bordered with black, and a whitish circle around her muzzle. "This is just the one you want," said the veterinarian. It was a beauty! Mattia and I now saw that this was the best. The veterinarian asked a heavy looking peasant, who held the cow by a rope, how much he wanted for it. "Three hundred francs," he replied. Our mouths dropped. Three hundred francs! I made a sign to the veterinarian that we must pass on to another; he made another sign that he would drive a bargain. Then a lively discussion commenced between the veterinarian and the peasant. Our bidder went up to 170, the peasant came down to 280. When they reached this sum, the veterinarian began to examine the cow more critically. She had weak legs, her neck was too short, her horns too long, she hadn't any lungs and her teats were not well formed. No, she certainly would not give much milk. The peasant said that as we knew so much about cows, he would let us have her for 250 francs, because he felt sure she would be in good hands. Thereupon we began to get scared, for both Mattia and I thought that it must be a poor cow then.