A waiter in shabby dress clothes, whose shiny red nose tells of much running to and fro in the heat, lays a white tablecloth and receives our order for some of the oldest cider of the house with a resonant “ Bon He presently comes shuffling over the grass with his arms full of hot plates, two French Provincial Fowns 75 bottles of cider, and a covered dish in which sizzles the trout. The cider proves to be excellent, as it should be, for we are in Normandy, the cider country. The Italian girl begins to sing songs, “Santa Lucia ” and uAdio Napoli,” and the others, which always conjure up a vision of moonlit nights in the Bay of Naples and the singers rowing round the vessel. The ’cello moans in accompaniment to the voice and the tinkling guitar, and gives that undercurrent of broken- heartedness which is in most of the south Italian peasant songs. It is quite incongruous, these songs of the south in a Normandy orchard, but the sunshine and the old cider and the clack of the mill and the sound of running water brings it all into the picture. The fowl in its big brown circular pot is as good as the trout has been, and the Italian girl, smiling to show two rows of brilliant teeth, brings round the plate with a napkin folded on it into which the sous are slipped. She asks us whether we would like to hear “ le petit ” play and sing. “ Le petit ” is a small boy in a sailor’s dress, who is one of the little troupe, and who presently takes a violin and leads the band of three with much aplomb. Then he comes to an open space amid the trees and sings a comic song with a little dance after each verse. He too brings round the plate and takes away with it a great triangle of the tourte , having looked to the Italian girl for permission before he accepts it. And then we find that it is nearly three o’clock, and we have to drive through the Foret d’Arques and see the castle and be back in Dieppe by four. So the little girls are sent running to tell the chauffeur to be ready, and we pass out of the lotus-land calm of the orchard on to dusty roads. The Italian girl, her mouth full of bread and sausage, comes to the door of the barn kitchen to wish us the pretty Italian equivalent of “ Au revoir,” and “ le petit,” clasping a toy boat, comes with her to wave 76 fhe Gourmet's Guide to Europe his hand. The name of the orchard restaurant is the Clos Normand, and it is at Martin-Eglise, a mile or two out of Dieppe. The Dieppe Clubs The subscription to the Grande Cercle des Bains, the Baccarat Club of the Casino, is 10 francs. Mem- bership of a good English club does away with any delay in admission. The Dieppe Golf Club, of which the British Vice-Consul is secretary, has an 18-hole course, and is a mile from the town. Visitors pay 2.50 francs a day, 10 francs a week, and 25 francs a month. The nine holes on the sea-side of this course are situated in wonderfully picturesque positions. Pu YS At Puys, a mile and a half from Dieppe, Mons. Pelletier laid down an excellent cellar of wines in „ the Hotel Chateau de Puys. The Chateau de Puys * r u * 1 ^ ^ restaurant or this hotel, on a plateau jutting out seawards and commanding some marvellous views, is a pleasant place at which to breakfast. Pour yille At Pourville, two miles from Dieppe, uphill, past the golf links, M. Gras is responsible for the enter-

AI-modernized reading of the original text

A waiter in shabby dress clothes, whose shiny red nose tells of much running to and fro in the heat, lays a white tablecloth and receives our order for some of the oldest cider of the house with a resonant “ Bon He presently comes shuffling over the grass with his arms full of hot plates, two [illustration: section break] bottles of cider, and a covered dish in which sizzles the trout. The cider proves to be excellent, as it should be, for we are in Normandy, the cider country. The Italian girl begins to sing songs, “Santa Lucia ” and uAdio Napoli,” and the others, which always conjure up a vision of moonlit nights in the Bay of Naples and the singers rowing round the vessel. The ’cello moans in accompaniment to the voice and the tinkling guitar, and gives that undercurrent of brokenheartedness which is in most of the south Italian peasant songs. It is quite incongruous, these songs of the south in a Normandy orchard, but the sunshine and the old cider and the clack of the mill and the sound of running water brings it all into the picture. The fowl in its big brown circular pot is as good as the trout has been, and the Italian girl, smiling to show two rows of brilliant teeth, brings round the plate with a napkin folded on it into which the sous are slipped. She asks us whether we would like to hear “ le petit ” play and sing. “ Le petit ” is a small boy in a sailor’s dress, who is one of the little troupe, and who presently takes a violin and leads the band of three with much aplomb. Then he comes to an open space amid the trees and sings a comic song with a little dance after each verse. He too brings round the plate and takes away with it a great triangle of the tourte , having looked to the Italian girl for permission before he accepts it. And then we find that it is nearly three o’clock, and we have to drive through the Foret d’Arques and see the castle and be back in Dieppe by four. So the little girls are sent running to tell the chauffeur to be ready, and we pass out of the lotus-land calm of the orchard on to dusty roads. The Italian girl, her mouth full of bread and sausage, comes to the door of the barn kitchen to wish us the pretty Italian equivalent of “ Au revoir,” and “ le petit,” clasping a toy boat, comes with her to wave [illustration: section break] his hand. The name of the orchard restaurant is the Clos Normand, and it is at Martin-Eglise, a mile or two out of Dieppe. The Dieppe Clubs The subscription to the Grande Cercle des Bains, the Baccarat Club of the Casino, is 10 francs. Membership of a good English club does away with any delay in admission. The Dieppe Golf Club, of which the British Vice-Consul is secretary, has an 18-hole course, and is a mile from the town. Visitors pay 2.50 francs a day, 10 francs a week, and 25 francs a month. The nine holes on the sea-side of this course are situated in wonderfully picturesque positions. Puys At Puys, a mile and a half from Dieppe, Mons. Pelletier laid down an excellent cellar of wines in „ the Hotel Chateau de Puys. The Chateau de Puys * r u * 1 ^ ^ restaurant or this hotel, on a plateau jutting out seawards and commanding some marvellous views, is a pleasant place at which to breakfast. Pour yille At Pourville, two miles from Dieppe, uphill, past the golf links, M. Gras is responsible for the enter-

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