No one was stirring in the pouring rain,
or seemed to notice her, except one or two boys, who ran after
her shouting and singing--"Eh, Jeanne-Marie, Jeanne-Marie--what
have you got to-day, Jeanne-Marie?" And to them she gave no
sort of heed, walking steadily and swiftly on, without even
turning her head, till she paused before a low, white-washed
cottage, standing a little apart from the village, between the
poplars that bordered the road. In front was a bench, and on
one side a vine, all dripping and forlorn, was trained over a
trellis that sloped from the roof, and, with wooden supports,
made a shelter for a row of bee-hives placed on a plank
beneath; under the front gable was a wicker contrivance for
pigeons, and below it, in large gold letters on a blue board,
the words, "Cafe et Restaurant." The door opened at once into
the little public room of the humblest pretentions, furnished
with a cupboard containing a store of bottles and glasses, a
stove in one corner, above it some bright copper tea-kettles,
a dozen chairs, and a deal table pushed near the one small
window that looked out on the road and the stream beyond, and
then across fields, and meadows, and trees, to the hills.
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