Short Stories, vol 12 | Page 8

evenings along the flower-covered banks of the river, where the
trees dip their branches into the water, where the rushes are continually
rustling in the breeze and where the swift kingfishers dart about like
flashes of blue lightning.
The whole family looked at them with great respect.
"Oh, they are indeed swell boats!" Monsieur Dufour repeated gravely,
as he examined them like a connoiseur. He had been in the habit of

rowing in his younger days, he said, and when he had spat in his
hands--and he went through the action of pulling the oars--he did not
care a fig for anybody. He had beaten more than one Englishman
formerly at the Joinville regattas. He grew quite excited at last and
offered to make a bet that in a boat like that he could row six leagues an
hour without exerting himself.
"Luncheon is ready," the waitress said, appearing at the entrance to the
boathouse, and they all hurried off. But two young men had taken the
very seats that Madame Dufour had selected and were eating their
luncheon. No doubt they were the owners of the sculls, for they were in
boating costume. They were stretched out, almost lying on the chairs;
they were sun-browned and their thin cotton jerseys, with short sleeves,
showed their bare arms, which were as strong as a blacksmith's. They
were two strong, athletic fellows, who showed in all their movements
that elasticity and grace of limb which can only be acquired by exercise
and which is so different to the deformity with which monotonous
heavy work stamps the mechanic.
They exchanged a rapid smile when they saw the mother and then a
glance on seeing the daughter.
"Let us give up our place," one of them said; "it will make us
acquainted with them."
The other got up immediately, and holding his black and red boating
cap in his hand, he politely offered the ladies the only shady place in
the garden. With many excuses they accepted, and that it might be
more rural, they sat on the grass, without either tables or chairs.
The two young men took their plates, knives, forks, etc., to a table a
little way off and began to eat again, and their bare arms, which they
showed continually, rather embarrassed the girl. She even pretended to
turn her head aside and not to see them, while Madame Dufour, who
was rather bolder, tempted by feminine curiosity, looked at them every
moment, and, no doubt, compared them with the secret unsightliness of
her husband. She had squatted herself on ground, with her legs tucked
under her, after the manner of tailors, and she kept moving about
restlessly, saying that ants were crawling about her somewhere.
Monsieur Dufour, annoyed at the presence of the polite strangers, was
trying to find a comfortable position which he did not, however,
succeed in doing, and the young man with the yellow hair was eating as

silently as an ogre.
"It is lovely weather, monsieur," the stout lady said to one of the
boating men. She wished to be friendly because they had given up their
place.
"It is, indeed, madame," he replied. "Do you often go into the country?"
"Oh, only once or twice a year to get a little fresh air. And you,
monsieur?"
"I come and sleep here every night."
"Oh, that must be very nice!"
"Certainly it is, madame." And he gave them such a practical account
of his daily life that it awakened afresh in the hearts of these
shopkeepers who were deprived of the meadows and who longed for
country walks, to that foolish love of nature which they all feel so
strongly the whole year round behind the counter in their shop.
The girl raised her eyes and looked at the oarsman with emotion and
Monsieur Dufour spoke for the first time.
"It is indeed a happy life," he said. And then he added: "A little more
rabbit, my dear?"
"No, thank you," she replied, and turning to the young men again, and
pointing to their arms, asked: "Do you never feel cold like that?"
They both began to laugh, and they astonished the family with an
account of the enormous fatigue they could endure, of their bathing
while in a state of tremendous perspiration, of their rowing in the fog at
night; and they struck their chests violently to show how hollow they
sounded.
"Ah! You look very strong," said the husband, who did not talk any
more of the time when he used to beat the English. The girl was
looking at them sideways now, and the young fellow with the yellow
hair, who had swallowed some wine the wrong way, was coughing
violently and bespattering Madame Dufour's cherry-colored silk dress.
She got angry and sent