Moreover the exiles saw little of the other inmates of the hotel, excepting at the table d’hote dinner.  M. Zola then brought his faculties of observation into play, and after a lapse of a few days he informed me that he was astonished at the ease and frequency with which some English girls raised their wine-glasses to their lips.  It upset all his idea of propriety to see young ladies of eighteen tossing off their Moselle and their champagne as to the manner born.  In France the daughter who is properly trained contents herself with water just coloured by the addition of a little Bordeaux or Burgundy.  And the contrast between this custom and incidents which M. Zola noticed at Oatlands—­and to which he once or twice called my attention—­made a deep impression on him.

The people staying at the hotel were certainly all of a good class.  There were several well-known names in the register; and knowing how much has been written on the happy decrease of drinking habits ’in the upper middle-class of England,’ I was myself slightly surprised at what was pointed out to me.  When M. Zola discovered, too, that sundry gentlemen—­leaving wine to their wives and daughters—­were addicted to drinking whisky with their meals, he was yet more astonished, for he claims that in France nowadays, greatly as the consumption of alcohol has increased among the masses, it has declined almost to vanishing point among people with any claim to culture.  On this matter, however, I reminded him that wine was often expensive in England, that beer disagreed with many people, and that some who felt the need of a stimulant were thus driven to whisky and water.

When the master and Desmoulin wandered down to the Thames towing-path, they found fresh food for observation and comment among the boating fraternity.  With some gay parties were damsels whose disregard for decorum was strongly reminiscent of Asnieres and Joinville-le-Pont; and it was slightly embarrassing to stroll near the river in the evening, when at every few yards one found young couples exchanging kisses in the shadows of the trees.  After all it was surprise rather than embarrassment which the exiles experienced, for they had scarcely imagined that English training was conducive to such public endearments.

At a later stage a bicycle was procured for the master, and he was then able to extend his sphere of observation; but in the earlier days at Oatlands his rambles were confined to the vicinity of Walton and Weybridge.  At the latter village he laid in a fresh stock of linen, and was soon complaining of the exiguous proportions of English shirts.  The Frenchman, it should be remembered, is a man of many gestures, and desires all possible freedom of action for his arms.  His shirt is cut accordingly, and a superabundance rather than a deficiency of material in length as well as breadth is the result.  But the English shirt-maker proceeds upon different lines; he always seems afraid