a whole, it is imposing, a building to which each generation has added its own life without hiding the distant origins.
Vast, which looks quite modern, occupies a pleasing site by the falls of the Saire. It seemed more human than the others, whose hugeness and splendour they had admired without a wish to possess. Here one could give play to one's desire.
"All the same," said M. Hervart, "it looks too much like a big cottage."
M. Des Boys resolved to have a cascade at Robinvast. It was a pity that he had nothing better than a stream at his disposal.
They returned by La Pernelle, from which one can see all the eastern part of the Hague, from Gatteville to St Marcouf, a great sheet of emerald green, bordered, far away, by a ribbon of blue sea.
They made a halt. Rose picked some heather, with which she filled M. Hervart's arms. The eagerness of the air lit up her eyes, fired her cheeks.
"Isn't it lovely, my country?"
A cloud hid the sun. Colour paled away from the scene; a shadow walked across the
