The Calasians did not seem especially prosperous, but were courteous, active, and helpful. The women wore variously coloured cloathing, the coat always of a different shade than the skirt, and the younger women wore curious, tall white caps with a fall of linen to the shoulders at the back. Women of all ages had white shifts and aprons that were tolerably clean, and—without exception—all set off by long, heavy gold ear-rings and a very large cross. Elizabeth wondered if perhaps these pendulums were wedding-gifts, as the women seemed to be particularly proud of their size, the magnitude of which seemed to vary not with age, but by a slight superiority of dress. Some of the Calasians had wooden shoes in the manner of the Dutchmen, but many wore neither shoes nor stockings, in spite of being only early spring. The men were not as exceptionally dressed, and to a degree resembled the outward appearance of their English neighbours, different only in their preference for blue garments instead of brown ones, and the former’s curious, striped round caps; but, oh! what a difference in their expressions! The French were so animated—laughing and talking all at once, as bright as their cloathing—so very different from the drab, reserved English stile of going about.

Mr. Darcy was the first to speak as they climbed up the steps to the street: “If there were any doubt as to the wisdom of bringing our own equipage, it should evaporate upon seeing the French coachmen—I have never seen such dirty, disheveled drivers! The harness is nothing but a collection of filthy rope, and seems incapable of safely attaching a wheel-barrow, much less a coach full of people and their baggage. The loriner would have but poor custom in France, apparently.”

“What’n apperi’tion!” exclaimed Mr. Harmon. “Hoow c’n they git aloong wi’ sech a team? T’ree abreast, wi’ a cart-horse in t’ mid’l, a cob on t’ near-side, an’t rag’d pony on’t’other! The mid’l horse mun’ have t’ drag t’ coach, and t’others as weell! An’ t’ drivver be a’wearin’ t’ hobnailed tall-boots fit fer drivin’ nowt but a limber!”

“As if the horses were the worst of it,” replied Mr. Darcy. “Look at that post-boy—that badge indicates the royal livery; it is a disgrace to all France! An English farmer would have turned out to better advantage! That filthy blue jacket would be more respectable were it clean and plain; the office of those under-sleeves and silver laces now appears only to accentuate the disparity between the pretense of the livery and these slovenly creatures. God hope they are more creditable drivers than their appearance would indicate!”