It was a French day.'
She turned to him a little shyly.
'We had arranged a joke, you see - we should speak only in French one day and in English on the next day.
On the English day we did not talk very much,' she said reminiscently.
'It was too difficult; we used to say that the English day ended after tea...'
Mildly surprised, he said: 'Did he speak French well?' Because that was most unlike John.
She laughed outright.
'No - not at all.
He spoke French very, very badly.
But that day, on the way out to Vincennes, the taxi-driver spoke English to John, because there are many tourists in Paris and some of the drivers can speak a little English.
And John spoke to him in English.
Because I had a new summer hat, with carnations, you understand - not a smart hat, but a little country thing with a wide brim.
And John asked the taxi-driver to tell him what the French was for' - she hesitated for a moment, and then said - 'to tell me that I was looking very pretty.
And the man laughed a lot and told him, so then John knew and he could say it to me himself.
And he gave the driver twenty francs.'
The old man said: 'It was probably worth that, mademoiselle.'
"She said: 'He wrote it down.
And then, when he wanted me to laugh, he use. d to get out his little book and read it out to me.'
She turned and stared out of the window at the slowly-moving landscape.
The old man did not pursue the subject; indeed, he could think of nothing adequate to say.
He got out his packet of caporal cigarettes and offered one to Nicole, but she refused.
'It is not in the part, that, monsieur,' she said quietly.
'Not in this dress.'
He nodded; lower middle-class Frenchwomen do not smoke cigarettes in public.
He lit one himself, and blew a long cloud of the bitter smoke.
It was hot already in the carriage, though they had the windows open.
The smaller children, Pierre and Sheila, were already tired and inclined to be fretful.
All day the train ground slowly on in the hot sun.
It was not crowded, and they seldom had anybody in the carriage with them, which was a relief.
As on the previous day, the German troops travelling were confined strictly to their own part of the train.
On all the station platforms they were much in evidence.
At towns such as St Brieuc, the exit from the station appeared to be picketed by a couple of German soldiers; at the wayside halts they did not seem to worry about passengers leaving the station.
Nicole drew Howard's attention to this feature.
'It is good, that,' she said.
'At Landerneau it may be possible to go through without questioning.
But if we are stopped, we have still a good story to tell.'
He said: 'Where are we going tonight, mademoiselle?
I am entirely in your hands.'
She said. 'There is a farm, about five miles from Landerneau, to the south. Madame Guinevec, wife of Jean Henri - that was her home before she was married.
I have been there with my father, at the time of the horse fair, the fete, at Landerneau.'
'I see,' he said.
'What is the name of the people at the farm?'
'Arvers,' she said.
'Aristide Arvers is the father of Marie.
They are in good circumstances, you understand, Aristide is a careful man, my father used to say.
He breeds horses a little, too, for our army.
Marie was Queen of Beauty at the Landerneau Fete one year.
It was then that Jean Henri first met her.'
He said: 'She must have been a very pretty girl.'
'She was lovely,' Nicole said.