A storm overnight had moistened the earth; the breath that came from the
flowery banks and the glistening leaves of oak and chestnut was very fresh;
all the birds that could sing were singing; the sound of the sweeping
scythe and the voices of mowers rose from the valley, and the spirit of
peace and gladness was over the land.
I took a road somewhat at random, and it led me by many windings away from
the Dronne, up hills, where there were vines but no cornfields, and where
the wayside trees were chiefly plums, laden with fruit fast purpling. And
as I looked at the plums I thought of the time when, after being dried in
the sun, they would become 'prunes,' and be scattered about the world, many
of them, perchance, in England, where children would buy them with their
pennies, as I had bought others myself, when I never supposed that I should
walk by the trees that bore them under southern skies.
A road-mender whom I passed saluted me with the words, '_Bon soir!_'
although the hour was eight in the morning. In these parts, however, _bon
soir_ is frequently said at all hours. It is a colloquial peculiarity.
Another is to address or speak of a gentleman and a lady as '_Ces
messieurs.
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