It was a fair morning in June: the sky was a bright, deep, lovely, speckless blue: the flowers and bushes poured perfume, and sprinkled song upon the balmy air.

On such a day, so calm, so warm, so bright, so scented, so tuneful, to live and to be young is to be happy.

With gentle hand it wipes all other days out of the memory; it smiles, it smells, it sings, and clouds and rain and biting wind seem as far off and impossible as grief and trouble.
Camille and Josephine had stolen out, and strolled lazily up and down close under the house, drinking the sweet air, fragrant with perfume and melody; the blue sky, and love.
Rose was in the house.

She had missed them; but she thought they must be near; for they seldom took long walks early in the day.

Meeting Jacintha on the landing of the great staircase, she asked her where her sister was.
"Madame Raynal is gone for a walk.