The dinner-bell always surprised her far away in the park.

She would come to the table, out of breath but happy, flushed with the fresh air.

The shadow of the hornbeams, stealing over that youthful brow, had imprinted a sort of gentle melancholy there, and the deep, dark green of the ponds, crossed by vague rays, was reflected in her eyes.
Those lovely surroundings had in very truth shielded her from the vulgarity and the abjectness of the persons about her.

M.Gardinois might deplore in her presence, for hours at a time, the perversity of tradesmen and servants, or make an estimate of what was being stolen from him each month, each week, every day, every minute; Madame Fromont might enumerate her grievances against the mice, the maggots, dust and dampness, all desperately bent upon destroying her property, and engaged in a conspiracy against her wardrobes; not a word of their foolish talk remained in Claire's mind.

A run around the lawn, an hour's reading on the river-bank, restored the tranquillity of that noble and intensely active mind.
Her grandfather looked upon her as a strange being, altogether out of place in his family.