CHAPTER LXIX.
After the noon dinner it was the custom in my uncle's house to sit for
an hour or two in the entry-way of the house, that vestibule inlaid
with flagstones and ornamented with a large, burnished, copper
fountain, for it was the coolest place during the heated period of the
day. Here it was almost dark, for everything was closed; two or three
rays of sunshine, in whose light the flies danced, filtered in through
the cracks of the massive Louis XIII door. In the silent village no
one was astir, and one heard there only the everlasting clucking of
the hens,--all other living creatures seemed asleep.
I, however, did not remain long in the cool vestibule. The bright
sunshine lured me out; and, too, scarcely had I installed myself there
in the circle before I heard a knocking at the street door: the three
little Peyrals had come to fetch me, and to apprise me of their
presence they lifted the old iron knocker that was hot enough to burn
their fingers.
Then with hats pulled over our eyes and equipped with hammers, staffs
and butterfly-nets we would start out in search of new adventures.
First we passed through the narrow gothic streets paved with pebbles,
then we struck into the paths that lay just beyond the village, paths
that were always covered with wheat-chaff that got into our shoes, and
into which we sank ankle deep; finally we reached the open country,
the vineyards, and the roads that led to the woods, or better still
those that brought us to the river which we forded by means of the
flower-covered islets.
This wild liberty was a complete avengement for the monotony of my
cribbed and cabined home life, ever the same all the year through; but
I still lacked the companionship of little boys of my own age, I
needed to clash with them,--and, too, this freedom lasted only a
couple of months.
