CHAPTER V

LOVE'S INDISCRETION

In the mountainous region of Langres, spring can hardly be said to appear
before the end of May. Until that time the cold weather holds its own;
the white frosts, and the sharp, sleety April showers, as well as the
sudden windstorms due to the malign influence of the ice-gods, arrest
vegetation, and only a few of the more hardy plants venture to put forth
their trembling shoots until later. But, as June approaches and the
earth becomes warmed through by the sun, a sudden metamorphosis is
effected. Sometimes a single night is sufficient for the floral spring
to burst forth in all its plenitude. The hedges are alive with lilies
and woodruffs; the blue columbines shake their foolscap-like blossoms
along the green side-paths; the milky spikes of the Virgin plant rise
slender and tall among the bizarre and many-colored orchids. Mile after
mile, the forest unwinds its fairy show of changing scenes. Sometimes
one comes upon a spot of perfect verdure; at other times one wanders in
almost complete darkness under the thick interlacing boughs of the
ashtrees, through which occasional gleams of light fall on the dark soil
or on the spreading ferns. Now the wanderer emerges upon an open space
so full of sunshine that the strawberries are already ripening; near them
are stacked the tender young trees, ready for spacing, and the billets of
wood piled up and half covered with thistle and burdock leaves; and a
little farther away, half hidden by tall weeds, teeming with insects,
rises the peaked top of the woodsman's hut. Here one walks beside deep,
grassy trenches, which appear to continue without end, along the forest
level; farther, the wild mint and the centaurea perfume the shady nooks,
the oaks and lime-trees arch their spreading branches, and the