They started off in the same way as they had come the day before, and the little white horse started off with his quick, dancing trot.  Under the hot sun, their fun, which had been checked during dinner, broke out again.  The girls now were amused at the jolts which the wagon gave, pushed their neighbors’ chairs, and burst out laughing every moment, for they were in the vein for it, after Rivet’s vain attempt.

There was a haze over the country, the roads were glaring, and dazzled their eyes, and the wheels raised up two trails of dust, which followed the cart for a long time along the high road, and presently Fernande, who was fond of music, asked Rosa to sing something, and she boldly struck up the Gros Cure de Meudon, but Madame made her stop immediately, as she thought it a song which was very unsuitable for such a day, and she added: 

“Sing us something of Beranger’s.”  And so, after a moment’s hesitation, she began Beranger’s song, The Grandmother, in her worn-out voice, and all the girls, and even Madame herself, joined in the chorus: 

    “How I regret
      My dimpled arms,
    My well-made legs,
      And my vanished charms.”

“That is first rate,” Rivet declared, carried away by the rhythm, and they shouted the refrain to every verse, while Rivet beat time on the shafts with his foot, and on the horse’s back with the reins, who, as if he himself were carried away by the rhythm, broke into a wild gallop, and threw all the women in a heap, one on the top of the other, onto the bottom of the conveyance.

They got up, laughing as if they were mad, and the song went on, shouted at the top of their voices, beneath the burning sky, among the ripening grain, to the rapid gallop of the little horse, who set off every time the refrain was sung, and galloped a hundred yards, to their great delight, while occasionally a stone breaker by the roadside sat up and looked at the wild and shouting female load through his wire spectacles.

When they got out at the station, the carpenter said: 

“I am sorry you are going; we might have had some fun together.”  But Madame replied very sensibly:  “Everything has its right time, and we cannot always be enjoying ourselves.”  And then he had a sudden inspiration: 

“Look here, I will come and see you at Fecamp next month.”  And he gave a knowing look, with a bright and roguish eye.

“Come,” Madame said, “you must be sensible; you may come if you like, but you are not to be up to any of your tricks.”

He did not reply, and as they heard the whistle of the train, he immediately began to kiss them all.  When it came to Rosa’s turn, he tried to get to her mouth, which she, however, smiling with her lips closed, turned away from him each time by a rapid movement of her head to one side.  He held her in his arms, but he could not attain his object, as his large whip, which he was holding in his hand and waving behind the girl’s back in desperation, interfered with his efforts.