It is guarded from the winds by a juniper, which an eglantine has chosen for its guardian and crowns each year with a wreath of roses.

Each year, too, a blackbird makes his nest here.

We keep his secret.

He knows we shall not disturb him.

And when I come back to this little nook in the woods, which custom has endeared to us, merely by looking in the water I feel my very heart refreshed.
"What a spot to sleep in!" cried Lampron.