[Illustration:  Market women.  Valognes.]

We got back to Valognes to a late dinner, having invited a large party to come over for tennis and dinner the next day.  The Florians are a godsend to Cherbourg.  They are most hospitable, and with automobiles the distance is nothing, and one is quite independent of trains.  Yesterday four of our party went off to Cherbourg to make a cruise in a torpedo-boat.  The ladies were warned that they must put on clothes which would not mind sea-water, but I should think bathing dresses would be the only suitable garments for such an expedition.  They were remarkable objects when they came home, Mademoiselle de Nadaillac’s hat a curiosity, also her white blouse, where the red of her hat-ribbons and cravat had run.  However, they had enjoyed themselves immensely—­at least the girl.  Countess de Nadaillac was not quite so enthusiastic.  They got into dry clothes and played tennis vigorously all the afternoon.

We had a pleasant family evening.  Mademoiselle de Nadaillac has a pretty voice and sang well.  Florian and I played some duets.  I joined in the dowager’s game of dominoes, which I don’t seem to have mastered, as I lose regularly, and after she left us, escorted by her faithful old butler (a light shawl over his arm to put on her shoulders when she passed through the corridors), we had rather an interesting conversation about ways and manners in different countries, particularly the way young people are brought up.  I said we were a large family and that mother would never let us read in the drawing-room after dinner.  If we were all absorbed in our books, conversation was impossible.  We were all musical, so the piano and singing helped us through.  Madame de Florian, whose father, Marquis de Nadaillac, is quite of the old school, said they were not even allowed to work or look at pictures in the salon after dinner!  Her father considered it disrespectful if any of his children did anything but listen when he talked.  They might join in the conversation if they had anything intelligent to say.  She told us, too, of some of the quite old-fashioned chateaux that she stayed in as a girl, and even a young married woman.  There was one fire and one lamp in the drawing-room.  Any one who wanted to be warm, or to work, was obliged to come into that room.  No fires nor lamps allowed anywhere else in the house; a cup of tea in the afternoon an unheard-of luxury.  If you were ill, a doctor was sent for and he ordered a tisane; if you were merely tired or cold, you waited until dinner-time.

We have also made a charming expedition to Quineville, a small seaside place about an hour and a half’s drive, always through the same green country, our Norman posters galloping up all the hills.  We passed through various little villages, each one with a pretty little gray, square-towered church.  There was plenty of passing, as it was market day.  We met a good many peasant women carrying milk in those