O! there is that sprightly frankness, which at once unpins every plait of a _Languedocian's_ dress--that whatever is beneath it, it looks so like the simplicity which poets sing of in better days --I will delude my fancy, and believe it is so.
'Twas in the road betwixt _Nismes_ and _Lunel_, where there is the best _Muscatto_ wine in all _France_, and which by the bye belongs to the honest canons of MONTPELLIER--and foul befal the man who has drank it at their table, who grudges them a drop of it.
----The sun was set--they had done their work; the nymphs had tied up their hair afresh--and the swains were preparing for a carousal----my mule made a dead point----'Tis the fife and tabourin, said I ----I'm frighten'd to death, quoth he ----They are running at the ring of pleasure, said I, giving him a prick ----By saint _Boogar_, and all the saints at the backside of the door of purgatory, said he--(making the same resolution with the abbesse of _Andoillets_) I'll not go a step further------'Tis very well, sir, said I ----I never will argue a point with one of your family, as long as I live; so leaping off his back, and kicking off one boot into this ditch, and t'other into that --I'll take a dance, said I--so stay you here.
A sun-burnt daughter of Labour rose up from the groupe to meet me, as I advanced towards them; her hair, which was a dark chesnut approaching rather to a black, was tied up in a knot, all but a single tress.
We want a cavalier, said she, holding out both her hands, as if to offer them --And a cavalier ye shall have; said I, taking hold of both of them.
Hadst thou, _Nannette_, been array'd like a dutchesse!
----But that cursed slit in thy petticoat!
_Nannette_ cared not for it.
We could not have done without you, said she, letting go one hand, with self-taught politeness, leading me up with the other.

O! there is that sprightly frankness in the Languedocians that looks like the simplicity which poets sing of in better days. - I will delude my fancy, and believe it is so.
'Twas in the road betwixt Nismes and Lunel, where there is the best Muscatto wine in France.
The sun was set - work was finished; the nymphs had tied up their hair - the men were preparing for a carousal - my mule stopped dead.
''Tis the fife and tambourine,' said I.
'I'm frightened to death,' quoth he. 'By saint Boogar, I'll not go a step further.'
'Very well, sir,' said I, leaping off his back, and kicking off my boots. 'I'll take a dance, - so stay you here.'
A sun-burnt daughter of Labour rose up from the group to meet me as I advanced; her chestnut hair was tied up in a knot, but for a single tress.
'We want a cavalier,' said she, holding out her hands.
'And a cavalier ye shall have,' said I, taking them.
Hadst thou only, Nannette, been dressed like a duchess! - But that cursed slit in thy petticoat!
Nannette cared not for it. She led me up by the hand.
