She looked at the orchard, growing on the slope that bordered the terrace, and she admired the foliage of the apple-trees, over which Autumn, with liberal hand, had scattered gold and purple; the grass there was as high as her knee, and was fragrant and glossy.

Above the apple-trees she saw the spire of the church at Cormeilles; it seemed to amuse itself watching the flying clouds.

It was a high-festival day.
The bells were ringing out a full peal; they spoke to this happy girl of that far-off, mysterious land which we remember, without ever having seen it.

Their silvery voices were answered by the cheerful cackling of the hens.

She at once understood that a joyful event was occurring in the poultry-yard, as well as in the belfry; that below, as well as above, an arrival was being celebrated.