liage
lay sharply defined on the blue of the sky; the insects that live by
light, the dragon-flies, the cantharides, were flying among the reeds
and the ash-trees; cattle chewed the cud in the shade, the ruddy earth
of the vineyards glowed, the adders glided up and down the banks. What a
change in the sparkling and coquettish landscape while I slept! I sprang
suddenly from the boat and ran up the road which went round Clochegourde
for I fancied that I saw the count coming out. I was not mistaken; he
was walking beside the hedge, evidently making for a gate on the road to
Azay which followed the bank of the river.

"How are you this morning, Monsieur le comte?"

He looked at me pleasantly, not being used to hear himself thus
addressed.

"Quite well," he answered. "You must love the country, to be rambling
about in this heat!"

"I was sent here to live in the open air."

"Then what do you say to coming with me to see them cut my rye?"

"Gladly," I replied. "I'll own to you that my ignorance is past belief;
I don't know rye from wheat, nor a poplar from an aspen; I know nothing
of farming, nor of the various methods of cultivating the soil."

"Well, come and learn," he cried gaily, returning upon his steps. "Come
in by the little gate above."

The count walked back along the hedge, he being within it and I without.

"You will learn nothing from Monsieur de Chessel," he remarked; "he is
altogether too fine a gentleman to do more than receive the reports of
his bailiff."

The count then showed me his yards and the farm buildings, the
pleasure-grounds, orchards, vineyards, and kitchen garden, until we
finally came to the long alley of acacias and ailanthus beside the
river, at the end of which I saw Madame de Mortsauf sitting on a bench,
with her children. A woman is very lovely under the light and quivering
shade of such foliage. Surprised, perhaps, at my prompt visit, she did
not move, knowing very well that we should go to her. The count made me
admire the view of the valley, which at this point is totally different
from that seen from the heights above. Here I might have thought myself
in a corner of Switzerland. The meadows, furrowed with little brooks
which flow into the Indre, can be seen to their full extent till lost in
the misty distance. Towards Montbazon the eye ranges over a vast green
plain; in all other directions it is stopped by hills, by masses of
trees, and rocks. We quickened our steps as we ap