Half the party are to return tonight with the wagonette; and some of the others, loath to break up company, will go with them a bit of the way and drink a stirrup-cup at Marlotte. It is dark in the wagonette, and not so merry as it might have been. The coachman loses the road. So-and-so tries to light fireworks with the most indifferent success. Some sing, but the rest are too weary to applaud; and it seems as if the festival were fairly at an end⁠—

“Nous avons fait la noce,

Rentrons à nos foyers!”

“Nous avons fait la noce, Rentrons à nos foyers!”