What a warm and superb night it was! The village slumbered on both
edges of the white highway in infantile quietude. From time to time
was heard the crowing of some chanticleer aroused too soon. From
the huge wood near by came long breaths, which passed over the roofs
like caresses. The meadows, with their dark shadows, assumed a
mysterious and dreamy majesty, while all the springs, all the
flowing waters which gurgled in the darkness, seemed to be the cool
and rhythmical respiration of the sleeping country. Occasionally
the ancient mill wheel, lost in a doze, appeared to dream like those
old watchdogs that bark while snoring; it cracked; it talked to
itself, rocked by the fall of the Morelle, the surface of which gave
forth the musical and continuous sound of an organ pipe. Never had
more profound peace descended upon a happier corner of nature.
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