When weariness brought them to the banks of the torrent, all their childish gaiety seemed to disappear.

A grey shadow floated under the willows, like the scented crape of a woman's dress.

The children felt this crape descend warm and balmy from the voluptuous shoulders of the night, kiss their temples and envelop them with irresistible languor.

In the distance the crickets chirped in the meadows of Sainte-Claire, and at their feet the ripples of the Viorne sounded like lovers' whispers--like the soft cooing of humid lips.

The stars cast a rain of sparkles from the slumbering heavens.