I4i THE THRUSH 



It was perhaps eight oclock in the morning ; I was 

 hstening in the balmy freshness of early autumn to the 

 parish bells ringing for mass, whilst thrushes were singing 

 in the juniper trees of the moor. At the same time the 

 salt breezes tliat ])lcw from beyond the sloping declivity 

 told me the sea was near. 



I was just about climbing over a fence made of boughs 

 when I heard some steps behind me, and turning round, 

 I perceived an early riser who was fond of walking, 

 coming in my direction. He appealed to bo al)out thirty ; 

 he was dressed in a suit of dark blue cloth, woie a round 

 felt hat and looked like a well-to-do country gentleman; 

 his dress was even too elaborate for that early morning- 

 hour, antl his <ha\vn features, his eyes circled with black, 

 his hooked nose pinched at its extremity, his leady com- 

 plexion, all seemed to indicate that he had passed a 

 sleepless night. Not being very well acquainted with 

 the topogaphy of the locality, 1 took advantage of this 

 unexpected meeting to ask him whether 1 was on the 

 right road to Saint-Jouan. 



He answered in the affirmative and told me he was 

 going the same way himself, adding: « 1 shall be happy 

 to show you the shortest way, as I am going home and 

 anxious to get to bed ». 



He noticed doubtlessly an expression ol surprise in 

 my face, for he added smilingly : « You are astonished 

 that I should go to bed when others rise ? It is quite 



