The Life of Jean Henri Fabre 



through the dread straits, and others succeeded 

 me. My five minutes' conversation with an im- 

 perial majesty was, they say, a most distinguished 

 honour. I am quite ready to believe them, but I 

 never had a desire to repeat it. 



The reception came to an end, bows were ex- 

 changed, and we were dismissed. A luncheon 

 awaited us at the minister's house. I sat on his 

 right, not a little embarrassed by the privilege: on 

 his left was a physiologist of great renown. Like 

 the others, I spoke of all manner of things, includ- 

 ing even Avignon Bridge. Duruy's son, sitting op- 

 posite me, chaffed me pleasantly about the famous 

 bridge on which everybody dances; 1 he smiled at 

 my impatience to get back to the thyme-scented 

 hills and the grey olive-yards rich in Grasshop- 

 pers. 



"What!" said his father. "Won't you visit 

 our museums, our collections ? There are some very 

 interesting things there." 



" I know, Monsieur le Ministre, but I shall find 

 better things, things more to my taste, in the in- 

 comparable museum of the fields." 

 " Then what do you propose to do? " 

 " I propose to go back to-morrow." 

 I did go back, I had had enough of Paris: never 

 had I felt such tortures of loneliness as in that 



1 The old, partly-demolished bridge at Avignon which 

 figures in the well-known French catch: 

 " Sur le pont d'Avignon, 

 Tout le monde y danse en rond." 



(A. T. DE M.) 

 I 80 



