the
grass in front of my house, under the enormous plantain tree which
covers and shades and shelters the whole of it. I like this part of the
country; I am fond of living here because I am attached to it by deep
roots, the profound and delicate roots which attach a man to the soil
on which his ancestors were born and died, to their traditions, their
usages, their food, the local expressions, the peculiar language of the
peasants, the smell of the soil, the hamlets, and to the atmosphere
itself.

I love the house in which I grew up. From my windows I can see the
Seine, which flows by the side of my garden, on the other side of the
road, almost through my grounds, the great and wide Seine, which goes
to Rouen and Havre, and which is covered with boats passing to and fro.

On the left, down yonder, lies Rouen, populous Rouen with its blue
roofs massing under pointed, Gothic towers. Innumerable are they,
delicate or broad, dominated by the spire of the cathedral, full of
bells which sound through the blue air on fine mornings, sending their
sweet and distant iron clang to me, their metallic sounds, now stronger
and now weaker, according as the wind is strong or light.

What a delicious morning it was! About eleven o'clock, a long line of
boats drawn by a steam-tug, as big a fly, and which scarcely puffed
while emitting its thick smoke, passed my gate.

After two English schooners, whose red flags fluttered toward the sky,
there came a magnificent Brazilian three-master; it was perfectly white
and wonderfully clean and shining. I saluted it, I hardly know why,
except that the sight of the vessel gave me great pleasure.

May 12. I have had a slight feverish attack for the last few days, and
I feel ill, or rather I feel low-spirited.

Whence come those mysterious influences which change our happiness into
discouragement, and our self-confidence into diffidence? One might
almost say that the air, the invisible air, is full of unknowable
Forces, whose mysterious presence we have to endure. I wake up in the
best of spirits, with an inclination to sing in my heart. Why? I go
down by the side of the water, and suddenly, after walking a short
distance, I return home wretched, as if some misfortune were awaiting
me there. Why? Is it a cold shiver which, passing over my skin, has
upset my nerves and given me a fit of low spirits? Is it the form of
the clouds, or the tints of the sky, or the colors of the surrounding
objects wh