It seemed to her, when from the piazza of her eleemosynary cottage she looked out over the soundless fields, the stony pastures, the clear-faced ponds, the rugged little orchards, that she had never been in the midst of so peculiarly intense a stillness; it was almost a delicate sensual pleasure.

It was all very good, very innocent and safe, and out of it something good must come.

Augustine, indeed, who had an unbounded faith in her mistress's wisdom and far-sightedness, was a great deal perplexed and depressed.

She was always ready to take her cue when she understood it; but she liked to understand it, and on this occasion comprehension failed.

What, indeed, was the Baroness doing dans cette galere?
what fish did she expect to land out of these very stagnant waters?
The game was evidently a deep one.