The two sisters were called Frances and Madeleine.  This day’s journey was a feat of courage without example in their lives.  The fever of the times had infected them unawares.  Yesterday Madeleine had suddenly proposed the idea of the expedition, and Frances had accepted it immediately.  Perhaps it would have been better not to yield to the great temptation offered by her younger sister; but “we have our follies at all ages,” as the prudent Frances philosophically remarked.  As for Madeleine, there are no regrets or doubts for her; she is the life-guardsman of the establishment.

“We really must amuse ourselves,” said she; “we live but once.”

And the elder sister smiled at this Epicurean maxim.  It was evident that the fever of independence was at its crisis in both of them.

And in truth it would have been a great pity if any scruple had interfered with their happiness, it was so frank and genial!  The sight of the trees, which seemed to fly on both sides of the road, caused them unceasing admiration.  The meeting a train passing in the contrary direction, with the noise and rapidity of a thunderbolt, made them shut their eyes and utter a cry; but it had already disappeared!  They look around, take courage again, and express themselves full of astonishment at the marvel.

Madeleine declares that such a sight is worth the expense of the journey, and Frances would have agreed with her if she had not recollected, with some little alarm, the deficit which such an expense must make in their budget.  The three francs spent upon this single expedition were the savings of a whole week of work.  Thus the joy of the elder of the two sisters was mixed with remorse; the prodigal child now and then turned its eyes toward the back street of St. Denis.

But the motion and the succession of objects distract her.  See the bridge of the Val surrounded by its lovely landscape:  on the right, Paris with its grand monuments, which rise through the fog, or sparkle in the sun; on the left, Meudon, with its villas, its woods, its vines, and its royal castle!  The two work-women look from one window to the other with exclamations of delight.  One fellow-passenger laughs at their childish wonder; but to me it is deeply touching, for I see in it the sign of a long and monotonous seclusion:  they are the prisoners of work, who have recovered liberty and fresh air for a few hours.

At last the train stops, and we get out.  I show the two sisters the path that leads to Sevres, between the railway and the gardens, and they go on before, while I inquire about the time of returning.