The child lay under sentence indeed, only it was
a sentence of life, and not of death.
CHAPTER XXVII
_Asia_. ... I feel, I see
Those eyes which burn through smiles that fade in tears,
Like stars half quenched in mists of silver dew.
Prometheus Unbound, SHELLEY.
It was only ten o'clock, really, and the curfew was ringing from every
village on the mountain-side. The sound of the bells, half musical,
half ominous, was borne by the bise across the vineyards, for the
easterly wind that brings fine weather was blowing over lake and
forest, and seemed to drive before it thin sheets of moonlight that
turned the whole world soft. The village lay cosily dreaming beneath
the sky. Once the curfew died away there was only the rustling of the
plane trees in the old courtyard. The great Citadelle loomed above the
smaller houses, half in shadow half in silver, nodding heavily to the
spire of the Church, and well within sight of the sentinelle poplar
that guarded the village from the forest and the mountains. Far away,
these mountains now lowered their enormous shoulders to let night flow
down upon the sleeping world. The Scaffolding that brought it had long
since sailed over France towards the sea....
Mother, still panting from the ritual of fastening the younger
children into bed, had gone a moment down the passage to say good-
night to Mlle.
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