The day after my arrival at my uncle's I met some children named Peyrals who became my playmates. According to the fashion of that part of the country their baptismal names were spoken preceded by the definite article. The two little girls respectively ten and twelve years old were called “the Marciette” and “the Titi,” and their younger brother, still a little chap, who did not, therefore, figure so largely in our plays, was called “the Medon.”  
As I was younger in my ways than most boys of twelve,—in spite of my understanding of some things usually beyond the comprehension of children,—we immediately became a congenial little band, and for several summers we came together and enjoyed each other's companionship.
 
The father of the little Peyrals owned all the forests and vineyards upon the hillsides about us. We had the freedom of them, were absolutely our own masters, and no one controlled or restrained us in any way, no matter how absurd we were.
 
In that mountain village our relatives were so esteemed¹ by the peasants living around them, that it was perfectly² proper for us to wander any where and every where in search of adventures. We would start out very early in the morning upon mysterious expeditions, or we went to distant vineyards to have picnics or to chase butterflies that we never caught. Sometimes a little peasant would enlist³ in our ranks and follow submissively wherever we led. After the

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