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I was on a narrow path skirting the forest and the water, when I met a peasant family dressed in their best clothes, and on their way, as I learnt, to the village of Notre Dame, where the fête patronale was being held. The man, who seemed well pleased with himself in his new black blouse, carried the sleeping baby, and his wife held a great coloured umbrella over it.
Nor must I forget to mention the fete patronale a kind of annual fair, which is held at midsummer, in honor of the patron saint of Auteuil.
Even in this quiet little village there is always something going on, a fete patronale, a ball, a prize-distribution, or other local event. The Ecole Communale for both boys and girls has just closed for the holidays, so last Sunday the season in July the prizes were given away with much ceremony.
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