A formal avenue of trim trees led out of the town of Melun. But these
were soon exchanged for rough forest growths; and out of cabbage and
corn lands the irruptive forest broke into islands; and the plain was
girdled with a dark green belt of distant forest.

She lay back in the fly tasting in the pure air, the keen joy of
returning health, and she thrilled a little at the delight of an
expensive white muslin and a black sash which accentuated the
smallness of her waist. She liked her little brown shoes and brown
stockings and the white sunshade through whose strained silk the red
sun showed.

At the cross roads she noticed a still more formal avenue, trees
planted in single line and curving like a regiment of soldiers
marching across country. The whitewashed stead and the lonely peasant
scratching like an insect in the long tilth were painful impressions.
She missed the familiar hedgerows which make England like a garden;
and she noticed that there were trees everywhere except about the
dwellings; and that there were neither hollybush or sunflowers in the
white village they rolled through--a gaunt white village which was not
Barbizon. The driver mentioned the name, but Mildred did not heed him.
She looked from the blank white walls to her prettily posed feet and
heard him say that Barbizon was still a mile away.

It lay at the end of the plain, and when the carriage entered the long
street, it rocked over huge stones so that Mildred was nearly thrown
out. She called to the driver to go slower; he smiled, and pointing
with his whip said that the hotel that Mademoiselle wanted was at the
end of the village, on the verge of the forest.