the beginning of
the country, and behind the double row of arches the Seine, suddenly
spreading out as though it had regained space and liberty, became all
at once the peaceful river which flows through the plains, alongside the
wooded hills, amid the meadows, along the edge of the forests.

After passing between two islands the Swallow went round a curved
verdant slope dotted with white houses. A voice called out: "Bas Meudon"
and a little further on, "Sevres," and still further, "Saint-Cloud."

I went on shore and walked hurriedly through the little town to the road
leading to the wood.

I had brought with me a map of the environs of Paris, so that I might
not lose my way amid the paths which cross in every direction these
little forests where Parisians take their outings.

As soon as I was unperceived I began to study my guide, which seemed to
be perfectly clear. I was to turn to the right, then to the left, then
again to the left and I should reach Versailles by evening in time for
dinner.

I walked slowly beneath the young leaves, drinking in the air, fragrant
with the odor of young buds and sap. I sauntered along, forgetful of
musty papers, of the offices, of my chief, my colleagues, my documents,
and thinking of the good things that were sure to come to me, of all
the veiled unknown contained in the future. A thousand recollections of
childhood came over me, awakened by these country odors, and I walked
along, permeated with the fragrant, living enchantment, the emotional
enchantment of the woods warmed by the sun of June.

At times I sat down to look at all sorts of little flowers growing on a
bank, with the names of which I was familiar. I recognized them all just
as if they were the ones I had seen long ago in the country. They were
yellow, red, violet, delicate, dainty, perched on long stems or close to
the ground. Insects of all colors and shapes, short, long, of peculiar
form, frightful, and microscopic monsters, climbed quietly up the stalks
of grass which bent beneath their weight.

Then I went to sleep for some hours in a hollow and started off again,
refreshed by my doze.

In front of me lay an enchanting pathway and through its somewhat scanty
foliage the sun poured down drops of light on the marguerites which grew
there. It stretched out interminably, quiet and deserted, save for an
occasional big wasp, who would stop buzzing now and then to sip from a
flower, and then continue his way.

Al