Paul would go to the old barn, catch birds, throw stones into the pond, or pound the trunks of the trees with a stick till they resounded like drums.  Virginia would feed the rabbits and run to pick the wild flowers in the fields, and her flying legs would disclose her little embroidered pantalettes.  One autumn evening, they struck out for home through the meadows.  The new moon illumined part of the sky and a mist hovered like a veil over the sinuosities of the river.  Oxen, lying in the pastures, gazed mildly at the passing persons.  In the third field, however, several of them got up and surrounded them.  “Don’t be afraid,” cried Felicite; and murmuring a sort of lament she passed her hand over the back of the nearest ox; he turned away and the others followed.  But when they came to the next pasture, they heard frightful bellowing.

It was a bull which was hidden from them by the fog.  He advanced towards the two women, and Madame Aubain prepared to flee for her life.  “No, no! not so fast,” warned Felicite.  Still they hurried on, for they could hear the noisy breathing of the bull behind them.  His hoofs pounded the grass like hammers, and presently he began to gallop!  Felicite turned around and threw patches of grass in his eyes.  He hung his head, shook his horns and bellowed with fury.  Madame Aubain and the children, huddled at the end of the field, were trying to jump over the ditch.  Felicite continued to back before the bull, blinding him with dirt, while she shouted to them to make haste.

Madame Aubain finally slid into the ditch, after shoving first Virginia and then Paul into it, and though she stumbled several times she managed, by dint of courage, to climb the other side of it.

The bull had driven Felicite up against a fence; the foam from his muzzle flew in her face and in another minute he would have disembowelled her.  She had just time to slip between two bars and the huge animal, thwarted, paused.

For years, this occurrence was a topic of conversation in Pont-l’Eveque.  But Felicite took no credit to herself, and probably never knew that she had been heroic.

Virginia occupied her thoughts solely, for the shock she had sustained gave her a nervous affection, and the physician, M. Poupart, prescribed the salt-water bathing at Trouville.  In those days, Trouville was not greatly patronised.  Madame Aubain gathered information, consulted Bourais, and made preparations as if they were going on an extended trip.

The baggage was sent the day before on Liebard’s cart.  On the following morning, he brought around two horses, one of which had a woman’s saddle with a velveteen back to it, while on the crupper of the other was a rolled shawl that was to be used for a seat.  Madame Aubain mounted the second horse, behind Liebard.  Felicite took charge of the little girl, and Paul rode M. Lechaptois’ donkey, which had been lent for the occasion on the condition that they should be careful of it.