serenity of nature.

Sergeant Suilhard came to me, took my arm, and led me away. "Come,"
he said, "and I'll show you something."

The approaches to the village abounded in rows of tall and tranquil
trees, and we followed them along. Under the pressure of the breeze
their vast verdure yielded from time to time in slow majestic
movements.

Suilhard went in front of me. He led me into a deep lane, which
twisted about between high banks; and on each side grew a border of
bushes, whose tops met each other. For some moments we walked in a
bower of tender green. A last gleam of light, falling aslant across
the lane, made points of bright yellow among the foliage, and round
as gold coins. "This is pretty," I said.

He said nothing, but looked aside and hard. Then he stopped. "It
must be there."

He made me climb up a bit of a track to a field, a great quadrangle
within tall trees, and full of the scent of hay.

"Tiens!" I said, looking at the ground, "it's all trampled here;
there's been something to do."

"Come," said Suilhard to me. He led me into the field, not far from
its gate. There was a group of soldiers there, talking in low
voices. My companion stretched out his hand. "It's there," he said.