Chapter 36

Nadège sat under a hawthorn which perfumed the air. Her fine, dark hair was free of her little felt hat; her grave, brown eyes were feasting on what they saw. This was a slice of country, smiling beneath the favour of a summer’s day—the slant of a flowery meadow, with a buxom hedgerow beyond; to the left a fresh field of young wheat, flanked by a whispering wood; to the right a cherry orchard, rising sharply to the skyline and making a long bank of blossom against the blue; and, rounding the picture, a mountain of …