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Updated: April 30, 2025
We got on well enough with them, and knew enough French to buy endless sweets at Rumpelmeyer's or chez Nègres, to get queer knives and "oddities" at the fairs, or to conduct paper-chases along the course of the Canal or in Pine Woods bordering it. We refused, however, to take the French or their language seriously. However, my father did contrive to instil a little French politics into us.
In the afternoons Mrs Saville would retire to rest, tired out by the morning's exertions, and Peggy would say plaintively: "Father dear, could you bear the reflections that your only daughter was pining for an ice and a box of chocolates, and that you had refused to indulge her for the sake of a few miserable rupees!" and the colonel invariably replying in the negative, she would array herself in her smartest frock, and repair with him to Rumpelmeyer's, who, as every one who has stayed in the Riviera knows full well, is at once the most wonderful and the most extortionate confectioner who ever tempted the appetites of men.
Day after day passed, and I remained at the Paris, but no word came from him or from Sir Charles, for the matter of that. Pierrette's ardour for motoring seemed to have now cooled; for, beyond a run to St. Raphael one morning, and another to Castellane, she had each day other engagements luncheon up at La Turbie, tea with Sir Charles at Rumpelmeyer's, or at Vogarde's.
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