"
As I was speaking, we reached the summit of a little hill which sloped
down to the valley; Madame Pierson, yielding to the downward tendency,
began to trip lightly down the incline. Without knowing why, I did the
same, and we ran down the hill, arm in arm; the long grass under our feet
retarded our progress. Finally, like two birds, spent with flight, we
reached the foot of the mountain.
"Behold!" cried Madame Pierson, "just a short time ago I was tired, but
now I am rested. And, believe me," she added, with a charming smile, "you
should treat your experience as I have treated my fatigue. We have made
good time and will enjoy supper the more on that account."
CHAPTER V
I WENT to call upon her the next morning. I found her at the piano, her
old aunt at the window sewing, the little room filled with flowers, the
sunlight streaming through the blinds, a large bird-cage at her side.
I expected to find her somewhat religious, at least one of those women of
the provinces who know nothing of what happens two leagues away, and who
live in a certain narrow circle from which they never escape. I confess
that such isolated life, which is found here and there in small towns,
under a thousand unknown roofs, had always produced on me the effect of
stagnant pools of water; the air does not seem respirable: in everything
on earth that is forgotten, there is something of death.
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