“Do tell me, what did that fellow conquer?” I could hardly believe my own ears, but unfortunately for him, just at that moment we were walking up a steep hill and everybody in the carriage overheard his remark.  It was received with such shouts of laughter that any explanation was difficult, and one may imagine the jokes, and the numerous and fabulous conquests that were instantly put down to the great duke’s account.  The poor fellow was quite bewildered.  However, I don’t know if an American is bound to know any history but that of his own country.  I am quite sure that many people in the carriage didn’t know whom Pocahontas married, nor what part she played in the early days of America.  But it was funny all the same.

We have been out again this afternoon in Monsieur R.’s auto—­a charming turn.  We started out by the Etoile, as Monsieur R. wanted to show it to some gentlemen who were with us.  The drive, if anything, was more lovely than the first time, the slanting rays of the sun were so beautiful shining through the rich green foliage, making patterns upon the hard, white road.  We raced all over the country, through countless little villages, all exactly alike, sometimes flying past a stately old brick chateau just seen at the end of a long, beech avenue, sometimes past an old church standing high, its gray stone steeple showing well against the bright, cloudless sky, and a little graveyard stretching along the hillside, the roads bordered on each side with high green banks and hedges, the orchards full of apple-trees, and the whole active population of the village in the fields.  It is a beautiful month to be in Normandy, for one must have sun in these parts.  As soon as it rains everything is gray and cold and melancholy, the forest looks like a great high black wall, the meadows are shrouded in mist, and the damp strikes through one.  Now it is smiling, sunny, peaceful.

We have frightened various horses to-day; a quiet old gray steed, driven by two old ladies in black bonnets.  They were too old to get out, and were driving their horse timidly and nervously into the ditch in their anxiety to give us all the road.  However, we slowed up and the horse didn’t look as if he could run away.  Two big carthorses, too, at the end of a long line, dragging a heavy wagon, turned short round and almost ran into us; also a very small donkey, driven by a little brown girl, showed symptoms of flight.  I don’t know the names of half the villages we passed through.  Near Bagnoles we came to La Ferte-Mace, which looks quite imposing as one comes down upon it from the top of a long hill.  The church makes a great effect—­looks almost like a cathedral.  Bagnoles looked very animated as we came back.  People were loitering about shopping—­quite a number of carriages and autos before the door of the Grand Hotel, and people sitting out under the trees in the gardens of the different villas.  It was decidedly cool at the end of our outing; I was glad to have my coat.