Here and there tall factory chimneys rose up from the barren soil.  The only vegetation on that putrid land, where the spring breezes wafted an odor of petroleum and slate, blended with another odor that was even less agreeable.  At last, however, they crossed the Seine a second time, and the bridge was a delight.  The river sparkled in the sun, and they had a feeling of quiet enjoyment, felt refreshed as they drank in the purer air that was not impregnated by the black smoke of factories nor by the miasma from the deposits of night soil.  A man whom they met told them that the name of the place was Bezons.  Monsieur Dufour pulled up and read the attractive announcement outside an eating house:  Restaurant Poulin, matelottes and fried fish, private rooms, arbors, and swings.

“Well, Madame Dufour, will this suit you?  Will you make up your mind at last?”

She read the announcement in her turn and then looked at the house for some time.

It was a white country inn, built by the roadside, and through the open door she could see the bright zinc of the counter, at which sat two workmen in their Sunday clothes.  At last she made up her mind and said: 

“Yes, this will do; and, besides, there is a view.”

They drove into a large field behind the inn, separated from the river by the towing path, and dismounted.  The husband sprang out first and then held out his arms for his wife, and as the step was very high Madame Dufour, in order to reach him, had to show the lower part of her limbs, whose former slenderness had disappeared in fat, and Monsieur Dufour, who was already getting excited by the country air, pinched her calf, and then, taking her in his arms, he set her on the ground, as if she had been some enormous bundle.  She shook the dust out of the silk dress and then looked round to see in what sort of a place she was.

She was a stout woman, of about thirty-six, full-blown, and delightful to look at.  She could hardly breathe, as her corsets were laced too tightly, and their pressure forced her superabundant bosom up to her double chin.  Next the girl placed her hand on her father’s shoulder and jumped down lightly.  The boy with the yellow hair had got down by stepping on the wheel, and he helped Monsieur Dufour to lift his grandmother out.  Then they unharnessed the horse, which they had tied to a tree, and the carriage fell back, with both shafts in the air.  The men took off their coats and washed their hands in a pail of water and then went and joined the ladies, who had already taken possession of the swings.