The empty courtyard planted with a few sickly lime-trees was as silent as the courtyard of a monastery.

The janitress went and obtained the keys from the commander.

When she returned, she was accompanied by a pretty little girl who wished to see the strangers.
Her arms were bare and she carried a large bunch of flowers.

Her black curls escaped from beneath her dainty little cap, and the lace on her pantalettes rubbed against her kid shoes tied around the ankles with black laces.

She ran up stairs in front of us beckoning and calling.
The staircase is long, for the tower is high.