Along France's river of romance: . y change from the counter, I felt suddenly softhands fumbling at my shoulder. Noticing in a looking-glass opposite that they belonged to a tall girl withbright cheeks and dark active eyes, who wore a littleround lace cap on her head, I allowed them to continue,not without excitement. Eventually they succeededin unhooking my riicksack, for that apparently was theirobject, and once possessed of it, their owner walkedto the door, announcing laconically, over her shoulder,the single word Dejeuner. She went, taking great strides with her long legs, and,spellbound,
Along France's river of romance: . y change from the counter, I felt suddenly softhands fumbling at my shoulder. Noticing in a looking-glass opposite that they belonged to a tall girl withbright cheeks and dark active eyes, who wore a littleround lace cap on her head, I allowed them to continue,not without excitement. Eventually they succeededin unhooking my riicksack, for that apparently was theirobject, and once possessed of it, their owner walkedto the door, announcing laconically, over her shoulder,the single word Dejeuner. She went, taking great strides with her long legs, and,spellbound, I followed. I would have followed her any-where, but after crossing a road and turning a corner,our destination turned out to be a little shabby inn—the Hotel Ponsonaille —under the shadow of the church. My captor hung my rucksack on a peg and ushered methrough the dark outer room into the parlour where the THE SOURCE other guests were already seated at a round table. Thisevidently was the house—there is always one in every. Scene at Le Monastier—Market-day-little town—for commercials; without them whatwould the traveller do in out-of-the-way parts of France ?The commercial always sees that his food is abun- 6 THE LOIRE dant, good, and cheap. All the company were commis-voyageurs except myself and the inevitable youngGerman couple. On my arrival the feast began ;napkins were tucked into expansive necks, and thepolite buzz of Servez-vous, Monsieur, mingled withthe ceremonial filling of ones neighbours glass. Chancethrew me next to the elderly bearded gentleman I hadobserved in the auto. He started talking at once ofwine and love. Was I married ? No,—then how was Itravelling ? Blushingly I admitted that it was un-accompanied, and he lay back in his chair and shookwith laughter. Ah, he said, but your women arenot amorous. It is very different here, eh, ma chattel^he added, addressing the girl who was replenishing thewine bottles. He ogled her with rather bleary eyes
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Keywords: ., bookcentury1900, bookdecade1910, bookidalongfrances, bookyear1913
