the holidays arrived, and marc and i went off to bois-clair. rare and wonderful thing! that happy time, looked forward to, talked of, and thought of, for so long, fully realised our expectations. we were as happy and enjoyed ourselves in all respects as much, as we had ever dreamed we should. what spirits we were in! we were intoxicated with the splendid air, the freedom, and the constant exercise out-of-doors. we were seldom in the house, for we were so occupied with our important out-door affairs—fishing, gathering wild fruits and flowers, and getting ourselves nearly lost in the grand forest. fran?ois was always with us, and always in a good temper, when we went on any long expedition.

i became quite enterprising, almost daring, and, except now and then when certain fears assailed me, which however i did my best to conceal, i began to think i was becoming a changed character. one of the drawbacks, though, to my perfect happiness, while staying with marc, was the constant chance of meeting with cattle. i could not bear to see a cow coming up to me. that was one of my fears. another cause of trouble was the chance of falling in with sheep-dogs; how i dreaded seeing a flock of sheep grazing in a field, i knew the dogs would be with them, and that if we walked near, they would be sure to come up to us.

and this they always did without fail, and what a moment of anxiety i used to pass when these great, shaggy, dirty animals came running towards us, barking as loudly as they could, staring at us with their great bright eyes. marc used to speak to them, and somehow he always knew how to quiet them; for at the sound of his voice they would stop barking, and walk off wagging their stumps of tails.

still, when we had passed them i did not dare to look back for fear they should be coming after us. it always seemed to me that one of them would creep stealthily up behind and grip me. i seemed to feel, sometimes, as if one of the dogs was only a foot behind me, and just about to spring, and then, with a great fear on me, i would turn round suddenly to find, of course, no dog there.

the poor beasts had not wasted another thought on us: they returned to their flocks, after we passed, gently wagging their tails, and stopping now and again to philosophize, with their noses examining a mole-hill.

the turkeys were creatures that i detested, and nothing was more disagreeable to me than meeting them. i was very much afraid of them. i can scarcely give an idea of the effect produced upon me by their little black eyes, which always had an angry glare in them, their frightful wrinkled heads, their great spread-out tails, and drooping wings; there seemed to me to be something hideously unnatural always about the turkeys, and when they advanced towards me, with their ruffled feathers, they appeared to me like some monstrous stuffed beasts, that went on wheels, not living birds walking about. marc did not seem to notice them, and i never told anyone the dread i had of those turkeys; but when they came near i shrank into a corner, and scarcely breathed until they had passed.

the pigs, too, troubled me not a little. i would willingly have walked a good distance out of my way to avoid passing through the copse where they were turned out. i distrusted their squinting little eyes, which appeared so full of deceit and malice; and i hated the familiarity with which they came up to smell us, simply because they, like us, belonged to the house. i remembered on these occasions all sorts of terrible tales of children having been devoured by pigs. but the coolness and confidence of marc, in all times of apparent danger, in a little while reassured me.

little by little—seeing that i was neither bitten, tossed, pecked, nor devoured—i became accustomed to all the objects which at first caused me so much terror. it is true i did not go in search of them, but i did not fly from them, as i began by doing.