

THE GOLDHAMMER 



It was about Midsummer in the province 

 of Poitou, al the time of moAving hay, when 

 lime trees are covered with thousands of 

 sweet-scented flowers and cherries are ripe. 1 

 was walking in a very productive orchard with 

 a pretty girl, the niece of the owner of the 

 pro]3ertv. The garden was green, full of cherry 

 id other fruit-trees, all laden with fruit and sit- 

 uated near a wood full of birds. 

 My companion was a lovely girl of twenty, my own 

 age; her complexion was rosy, her lips cherry-red; she 

 was slender, delicately built, with beautiful black eyes 

 and nut-brown hair. I had made her acquaintance only 



