Capitolo 5
curtain of fields, is punctuated with the small villages of which you/they peer at out the
trees or you/he/she is drawn against the sky-line,--Vignely, Trilbardou,
Penchard, Monthyon Neufmortier, Chauconin and in the close-up to
the north, in the valley only fifty-fifty road between Meaux and I, lies
Mareuil-on-the-Marne, with his/her red roofs, grey walls, and church they bud.
With a glass I can find where Chambry and Barcy are, on the slant behind
Meaux, even if the trees conceal them.
But these are all the small villages of which you have not been able to ever feel. No
guide celebrates them. Any railroad draws near. In the clear days
I can see the square you tower of the cathedral to Meaux, and I only have
a short distance walks on the run of routing that nationale,--what it works from Paris,
through the top of my hill a small to the east, and for this motive to Meaux and
above to find in profile a perspective of him that it gets up above of the
city, rather detached by foundation to clock-tower.
This is a rolling country of fields of wheat, orchards the masses of
black-grape sultanina plants bushes on, vegetable it is a great sugar-beet
country,--and beds of asparagus; for the Department of the et of Seine Marne
it is one of the most productive in France and every thumb under
crop. It is that that the call a paysage French riant, and I assure
You, ago more than smiles this beautiful June mornings. I am on each
morning almost as soon as the sun, and I slip my feet in sabots, coverage
me in a great mantle, and it races above right to the lawn to make sure himself/herself/themselves that
the panorama has not disappeared at night. There always lies--also
good almost to be true--miles and miles of laughing country, little
white city that smiles only at the first light, a thin strip of river here
and there, rippling himself/herself/itself and dancing, curtains of fields of all the colors--everybody
then, peaceful and so cheerful, and so "friendly" that it cheers the opening
day, and it makes me rejoice to have lived to see him/it. I never get tired of it.