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HOW THE AUTHOR WAS LED TO 



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" Li the depths of the wood the woodpecker 

 laboured obstinately at the venerable trunks ; one might 

 hear him at his task when aU other sounds had ceased. 

 We listened in trembling silence to the mysterious blows 

 of that indefatigable workman mingling with the owl's 

 slow and lamentable voice. 



" It was my highest ambition to have a bird all to 

 myself — a turtle-dove. Those of my mother's — so 

 familiar, so plaintive, so tenderly resigned at breeding- 

 time — attracted me strongly towards them. If a young 

 girl feels like a mother for the doll which she dresses, 

 how much more so for a living creature which responds 

 to her caresses ! I would have given everything for 

 this treasure. But it was not to be so ; and the dove 

 was not my first love. 



" The first was a flower, whose name I do not 

 know. 



" I had a small garden, situated under an enormous 

 fig-tree, whose humid shades rendered useless aU my 

 cultivation. Feeling very sad and sorely discouraged, I 

 descried one morning, on a pale-gi*een stem, a beautiful 

 little golden blossom. Very little, trembling at the 

 lightest breath, its feeble stalk issued from a small basin 

 excavated by the rains. Seeing it there, and always 

 trembling, I supposed it was cold, and provided it with 

 a canopy of leaves. How shall I express the transports 

 which this discovery awakened ? I alone knew of its 

 existence ; I alone possessed it. All day we could do 

 nothing but gaze at each other. In the evening I 

 glided to its side, my heart full of emotion. We spoke 

 little, for fear of betraying ourselves. But ah ! what 









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