The Life of the Fly 



like the one in the school, opening in the same 

 way out of a sort of recess and in the same 

 way overlooking most of the village. One was 

 on the right, the other on the left of the castle 

 with the pigeon-house towers; both afforded 

 an equally good view of the heights of the 

 slanting valley. I was able to enjoy the school- 

 window only at rare intervals, when the master 

 left his little table; the other was at my dis- 

 posal as often as I liked. I spent long hours 

 there, sitting on a little fixed window-seat. 



The view was magnificent. I could see the 

 ends of the earth, that is to say, the hills that 

 blocked the horizon, all but a misty gap 

 through which the brook with the crayfish 

 flowed under the alders and willows. High up 

 on the sky-line, a few wind-battered oaks 

 bristled on the ridges; and beyond there lay 

 nothing but the unknown, laden with mystery. 



At the back of the hollow stood the church, 

 with its three steeples and its clock; and, a little 

 higher, the village-square, where a spring, 

 fashioned into a fountain, gurgled from one 

 basin into another, under a wide arched roof. 

 I could hear from my window the chatter of 

 the women washing their clothes, the strokes of 

 their beaters, the rasping of the pots scoured 

 with sand and vinegar. Sprinkled over the 

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