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In and Out of Three Normandy Inns

Chapter 3 FROM AN INN WINDOW.

Word Count: 2578    |    Released on: 06/12/2017

leaning on a window casement as exciting as it was satisfying. It is true that from our two inn windows there was a delightful variety of nature and of human nature to look out upo

neighbors presented a different face, were arrayed in totally different raiment, were grave or gay, glowi

: ON THE BEAC

, the rest of the earth's surface-of that one was quite certain in looking at this vast inverted cup overflowing w

his edge of shore, panted, like a child at play; its sighs, liquid, lisping, were irresistible; one found oneself listening for the sound of them as if they had issued from a human throat. The humming of the bees in the garden, t

g compressed within narrow space, was always to be heard; it ceased only when the village slept. There was an incessant clicking accompaniment to this

he fact that the village, as a village, appeare

children bending beneath the weight of baskets filled with kicking fish; wheelbarrows stocked high with sea-food and warm clothing;

cial mania began to

this life-this became, after a few days,

er creamery. There a tall Norman rained admiration upon her through wide blue eyes, as he patted, caressingly, the pots of blond butter, just the color of her hair, before laying them, later, tenderly in her open palm. Soon, as our acquaintance with our neighbors deepened into something like intimacy, we came to know their habits of mind as we did their facial peculiarities; certain of their actions made an event in our day. It became a serious matter of conjecture as to whether Madame de Tours, the social swell of the town, would or would not offer up her prayer to Deity, acc

ery day in the week that the "tambour," the town-crier, had business enough to render his appearance, in his official capacity, necessary; as a mere townsman he was to be seen any hour of the day, as drunk as a lord, at the sign of

broche-or et perles-avec cheveux-Madame Merle a

even the abstractors of the lost garment must, we were certain, be among the crowd assembled to hear our names shouted out on the still air. We were greatly affected by the publicity of the occasion; but the village heard the an

relations with a wandering circus," re

the drummer there's a whole village as aid to find a lost article. I shall, doubtless, always have that, now,

ing some new assortment of garments met our wondering eyes. Sometimes it was a collection of Empire embroidered costumes that were hung out on the line; faded fleur-de-lis, sprigs of dainty lilies and roses, gold-embossed Empire coats, strewn thick with seed-pearls on satins softened by time into melting shades. When next we looked the court of Napoleon had vanished, and the Bourbon period was, literally, in full swing. A frou-frou of laces, coats with deep skirts, and beribboned trousers

was a heated whiff, in spite of the cooling breeze. It was from a pipe, a short, black pipe, owned by some one in the Mansard window next door. There was t

motionless. Between the pipe and the cap was a man's pr

nlight. The face turned toward me-with the qui

possi

u-h

ou, when did you arrive

t; after the first salutation

you a

N

he-yo

es

ett

f-that is she-in t

perilously out into the

come in

n was continued later, in the garden.

n out on the

t y

o-morrow. The tide will be in to-day about four-I'll call for you-wear

g the doves as we entered the inn garden. At sight of Renard she dropped a quiet courtesy, smiles and roses struggling for a supremacy on her round peasant fa

ly stiffen the sauces, lure from the cellar bottles incrusted with the gray of thick cobwebs, give an added drop of the lemon to the mayonnaise, and make an omelet

Renard's meagre masculine comment, as the last morsel

n to eat a repast in the company of an artist. I know not why it is, but it has always seemed to me that the man who live

ille beaches would be crowded; only the artists of the brushes were here now; the arti

hip the sea. 'La mer! la mer!' they cry, with eyes all whites; then they go into little swoons of rapture-I can see them now,

wavelets of the sea into such foam that they seemed over-running with laughter; and such was still its unspent energy that it sent the Seine with a bound up through its shores, its waters clanging like a sheet of mail armor worn by some lusty warrior. We were walking in the narrow lane that edged the cliff; it was a lane that was guarded with a sentinel row of osiers, syringas, and laburnums. This was the guard of the cliffs. On the other side was the high garden wall, over which we caught dissolving views of dormer-windows, of gabled roofs, vine-clad walls

y in all great beauty. When nature or woman presents a really grandiose appearance, they are singularly reposeful, if you notice; they have the calm which comes with a consciousness of splendor. It is only prettiness which is tormented with the itching for display; and therefore this prospect, which rolled itself out beneath our feet, curlin

nivers, c'est m

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