His sister’s occupation did not trouble his scruples in the least, and, besides, nobody knew anything about it at Virville.  When they spoke of her, they only said:  “Madame Tellier is living at Fecamp,” which might mean that she was living on her own private income.  It was quite twenty leagues from Fecamp to Virville, and for a peasant, twenty leagues on land is as long a journey as crossing the ocean would be to city people.  The people at Virville had never been further than Rouen, and nothing attracted the people from Fecamp to a village of five hundred houses in the middle of a plain, and situated in another department; at any rate, nothing was known about her business.

But the Confirmation was coming on, and Madame Tellier was in great embarrassment.  She had no substitute, and did not at all care to leave her house, even for a day; for all the rivalries between the girls upstairs and those downstairs would infallibly break out.  No doubt Frederic would get drunk, and when he was in that state, he would knock anybody down for a mere word.  At last, however, she made up her mind to take them all with her, with the exception of the man, to whom she gave a holiday until the next day but one.

When she asked her brother, he made no objection, but undertook to put them all up for a night, and so on Saturday morning the eight-o’clock express carried off Madame Tellier and her companions in a second-class carriage.  As far as Beuzeville they were alone, and chattered like magpies, but at that station a couple got in.  The man, an old peasant, dressed in a blue blouse with a turned-down collar, wide sleeves tight at the wrist, ornamented with white embroidery, wearing an old high hat with long nap, held an enormous green umbrella in one hand, and a large basket in the other, from which the heads of three frightened ducks protruded.  The woman, who sat up stiffly in her rustic finery, had a face like a fowl, with a nose that was as pointed as a bill.  She sat down opposite her husband and did not stir, as she was startled at finding herself in such smart company.

There was certainly an array of striking colors in the carriage.  Madame Tellier was dressed in blue silk from head to foot, and had on a dazzling red imitation French cashmere shawl.  Fernande was puffing in a Scotch plaid dress, of which her companions had laced the bodice as tight as they could, forcing up her full bust, that was continually heaving up and down.  Raphaele, with a bonnet covered with feathers, so that it looked like a bird’s nest, had on a lilac dress with gold spots on it, and there was something Oriental about it that suited her Jewish face.  Rosa had on a pink skirt with largo flounces, and looked like a very fat child, an obese dwarf; while the two Pumps looked as if they had cut their dresses out of old flowered curtains dating from the Restoration.

As soon as they were no longer alone in the compartment, the ladies put on staid looks, and began to talk of subjects which might give others a high opinion of them.  But at Bolbeck a gentleman with light whiskers, a gold chain, and wearing two or three rings, got in, and put several parcels wrapped in oilcloth on the rack over his head.  He looked inclined for a joke, and seemed a good-hearted fellow.