ospect greeted me:
the hillsides covered with red vines, the wooded mountains whose trees
were rapidly being stripped of their yellow leaves, and above, perched
high, the noble reddish-brown ruin of Castelnau. And in the nearer
distance was Bories with its old rounded porch white with lime-wash; and
as I looked at it I seemed to hear the plaintive refrain: "Ah! Ah! the
good, good story!" sung in a strange voice, and at the same time there
appeared to me the vision of the pinkish-yellow butterfly which two
years before I had pricked with a pin, and placed under glass in my
little museum.

It drew near the hour for the ancient country diligence, that took the
letters away from the village, to depart, and I scrambled down from
the wall, and after locking the garden gate, I slowly directed my steps
towards the post-office.

Like one with eyes fixed upon a vision, I walked along without taking
notice of anything or any one. My spirit was wandering far away, in the
fern-carpeted forests of the delicious isle, along the sands of gloomy
Senegal where had lived the uncle who had interested himself in my
museum, and across the South Pacific Ocean where the dolphins were
passing.

The assured nearness and certainty of these things intoxicated me; for
the first time in my existence the world and life seemed to open before
me; my way was illuminated by a light altogether new to it: it is true
the light was a little mournful, a little sad, but it was powerful
nevertheless, and penetrated to the far distant horizon where lie old
age and death.

Many little childish images obtruded themselves from time to time into
my lofty dream; I saw myself in a sailor's uniform walking upon the
sun-blistered quays of tropical lands; and I prefigured my home-comings,
after perilous voyages, bringing with me cases filled to the brim with
wonderful things out of which cockroaches escaped as they had done
formerly in Jeanne's garden when her father's boxes were unpacked.

But suddenly a pang went through my heart: those returns from distant
countries could not take place for many years--the faces welcoming me
home would be changed by time! Instantly I pictured those beloved faces
to myself; in a wan vision I saw them all together. Although its members
received me with smiles of joyous welcome, it was a sad group to look
upon, for wrinkles seamed every brow, and my mother had white curls such
as she has to-day. And my great aunt Bertha, already so