In spite of the false scent we had thrown out the day before, there must have been fifty people about the bridge.  We were as pleasant as we could be with all but Carnival.  We said good-bye, shaking hands with the old gentleman who knew the river and the young gentleman who had a smattering of English; but never a word for Carnival.  Poor Carnival! here was a humiliation.  He who had been so much identified with the canoes, who had given orders in our name, who had shown off the boats and even the boatmen like a private exhibition of his own, to be now so publicly shamed by the lions of his caravan!  I never saw anybody look more crestfallen than he.  He hung in the background, coming timidly forward ever and again as he thought he saw some symptom of a relenting humour, and falling hurriedly back when he encountered a cold stare.  Let us hope it will be a lesson to him.

I would not have mentioned Carnival’s peccadillo had not the thing been so uncommon in France.  This, for instance, was the only case of dishonesty or even sharp practice in our whole voyage.  We talk very much about our honesty in England.  It is a good rule to be on your guard wherever you hear great professions about a very little piece of virtue.  If the English could only hear how they are spoken of abroad, they might confine themselves for a while to remedying the fact; and perhaps even when that was done, give us fewer of their airs.

The young ladies, the graces of Origny, were not present at our start, but when we got round to the second bridge, behold, it was black with sightseers!  We were loudly cheered, and for a good way below, young lads and lasses ran along the bank still cheering.  What with current and paddling, we were flashing along like swallows.  It was no joke to keep up with us upon the woody shore.  But the girls picked up their skirts, as if they were sure they had good ankles, and followed until their breath was out.  The last to weary were the three graces and a couple of companions; and just as they too had had enough, the foremost of the three leaped upon a tree-stump and kissed her hand to the canoeists.  Not Diana herself, although this was more of a Venus after all, could have done a graceful thing more gracefully.  ‘Come back again!’ she cried; and all the others echoed her; and the hills about Origny repeated the words, ‘Come back.’  But the river had us round an angle in a twinkling, and we were alone with the green trees and running water.

Come back?  There is no coming back, young ladies, on the impetuous stream of life.

’The merchant bows unto the seaman’s star, The ploughman from the sun his season takes.’