the kitchen garden, which Martine still persisted in cultivating in
spite of her age, calling in a man only twice a week for the heavier
labors; and she ascended to a little pine wood on the right, all that
remained of the superb pines which had formerly covered the plateau;
but, here, too, she was ill at ease; the pine needles crackled under
her feet, a resinous, stifling odor descended from the branches. And
walking along the boundary wall past the entrance gate, which opened
on the road to Les Fenouilleres, three hundred meters from the first
houses of Plassans, she emerged at last on the threshing-yard; an
immense yard, fifteen meters in radius, which would of itself have
sufficed to prove the former importance of the domain. Ah! this
antique area, paved with small round stones, as in the days of the
Romans; this species of vast esplanade, covered with short dry grass
of the color of gold as with a thick woolen carpet; how joyously she
had played there in other days, running about, rolling on the grass,
lying for hours on her back, watching the stars coming out one by one
in the depths of the illimitable sky!

She opened her umbrella again, and crossed the yard with slower steps.
Now she was on the left of the terrace. She had made the tour of the
estate, so that she had returned by the back of the house, through the
clump of enormous plane trees that on this side cast a thick shade.
This was the side on which opened the two windows of the doctor's
room. And she raised her eyes to them, for she had approached only in
the sudden hope of at last seeing him. But the windows remained
closed, and she was wounded by this as by an unkindness to herself.
Then only did she perceive that she still held in her hand her roll,
which she had forgotten to eat; and she plunged among the trees,
biting it impatiently with her fine young teeth.