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By noon every corner and vantage point of the landscape is seized upon, when, with a blare of trumpets and the rattle of cavalry, the President arrives in his turnout a la Daumont, two postilions in blue and gold, and a piqueur, preceded by a detachment of the showy Gardes Republicains on horseback, and takes his place in the little pavilion where for so many years Eugenie used to sit in state, and which has sheltered so many crowned heads under its simple roof.
Your children, wives and grandsires hoary " The violinist caught up his bow, the orchestra leader was on his feet. Felicia was not smiling any more; her great eyes burned with excitement; she saw Piqueur singing; she heard Piqueur trying to tell her about war she did not mute her whistle. She let it ring
He smiled at her under his slouchy cap as he stumbled stiffly toward the Major. "The horse," he stammered, " her foot got sore las' thing this were all we had to fetch ye in Piqueur he's too old fur drivin' to the village any more, so Margot she sends me " There were chairs in the back of the ox cart, odd chairs built of bent hickory with buffalo robes tucked in them.
When our little garden is lovely again, if any one ever kisses you out there and you love him don't let any one take you away from him. Because it might be too long afterward that you come back you might be old like Grandy and Piqueur so that he wouldn't know you when he saw you. He wouldn't know that you were the Girl, "
We also crossed Menier's équipage de chasse, horses and dogs being exercised. We talked a few minutes to Hubert, the piqueur, who was in a very bad humor. They had not hunted for some days, and dogs and horses were unruly. The horses were a fine lot, almost all white or light gray.
"Ha! ha! a boaster, indeed! Do you mean to say that I'm afraid of a bull?" "Of course not. However, as there are no bulls here, I will send the head piqueur upon the track of a wild boar which was seen near the chateau last night; he will exactly suit you. I consider him as doomed."
But before Felice had had time to find out just who Piqueur was, Mademoiselle had ushered in a curly-haired young man who carried a portfolio exactly like the one that Certain Legal Matters carried. And it was while Mademoiselle was taking Felice back to the garden that she heard her mother say,
Piqueur and Bele and Margot toiled valiantly pulling up the myriad abundance-of-weeds, but in vain. It was not until the resplendent autumn had passed that she had any inkling of the real pattern. There came a glorious moonlit night, a chilly night when she snuggled under the blankets and yawned over the chapter that told her "how to mulch plants for winter."
He brooded restlessly save for the hours they spent together over the chess board or at dinner; sometimes he slowly paced the long gallery or the hallways, but more often he sat gloomily, his hand on his cane, his chin resting on his hand and looked sadly across the terrace where Felice directed her workers. He, like Piqueur, was growing "too old." He was really seventy-four that summer.
The boar is afoot, and all over the forest, and in all neighbouring villages, there is a vague excitement and a vague hope; for who knows whither the chase may lead? and even to have seen a single piqueur, or spoken to a single sportsman, is to be a man of consequence for the night.
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