fell silent, and began to stare at the youth with curious, puzzled eyes again.
“What region are you from?” the peasant asked presently, still intent and puzzled, staring at him with his small eyes.
“How’s that? I don’t understand.”
“I say—what region are you from?”
“The gentleman is not French!” the girl shouted furiously, as if exasperated by their stupidity. “He is a foreigner. Can’t you see that?”
“Ah-h!” the peasant cried, after a moment, with an air of astounded enlightenment. Then, turning to his wife, he said briefly, “He is not French. He is a stranger.”
“Ah-h!”
And then they both turned their small, round eyes on him and regarded him with a fixed, animal-like curiosity.
“From what country are you?” the peasant asked presently. “What are you?”
“I am an American.”
“Ah-h! An American…. He is an American,” he said, turning to his wife.
“Ah-h!”
The girl made an impatient movement and continued to stare furiously and sullenly out of the window.
Then the peasant, with the intent, puzzled curiosity of an animal began to examine his companion carefully from head to foot. He looked at his shoes, his clothes, his overcoat, and finally lifted his eyes in an intent and curious stare to the young man’s valise on the rack above his head. He nudged his wife and pointed to the valise.
“That’s good stuff, eh?” he said in a low voice. “It’s real leather.”
“Yes, it’s good, that.”
And both of them looked at the valise for some time and then turned their curious gaze upon the youth again. He offered the peasant another cigarette, and the old man took one, thanking him.
“It’s very fine, this,” he said, indicating the cigarette. “That costs dear, eh?”
“Ah-h!… That’s very dear,” and he began to look at the cigarette with increased respect.
“Why are you going to Orléans?” he asked presently. “Do you know someone
