M. le Major had a net in his hand, and was watching the water intently;
the perspiration was trickling down his nose; and around him, in silent
expectation and suspense, were grouped Gogo and Mimsey and my three
cousins, and a good-humored freckled Irish boy I had quite forgotten,
and I suddenly remembered that his name was Johnstone, that he was very
combative, and that he lived in the Rue Basse (now Rue Raynouard).
On the other side of the pond my mother was keeping Medor from the
water, for fear of his spoiling the sport, and on the bench by the
willow sat Madame Seraskier--lovely Madame Seraskier--deeply
interested. I sat down by her side and gazed at her with a joy there is
no telling.
An old woman came by, selling conical wafer-cakes, and singing--"_V'la
l'plaisir, mesdames--V'la l'plaisir!_" Madame Seraskier bought ten sous'
worth--a mountain!
M. le Major made a dash with his net--unsuccessfully, as usual. Medor
was let loose, and plunged with a plunge that made big waves all round
the mare, and dived after an imaginary stone, amid general shouts and
shrieks of excitement. Oh, the familiar voices! I almost wept.
Medor came out of the water without his stone and shook himself,
twisting and barking and grinning and gyrating, as was his way, quite
close to me.
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