We climbed down through brambles and underbrush into a deep and dark
trench, hidden at the foot of a large tower, which stands in the water
surrounded by reeds. A lone window opens on one side: a dark square
relieved by the grey line of its stone cross-bar. A capricious cluster
of wild honeysuckle covers the sill, and its maze of perfumed blossoms
creeps along the walls. When one looks up, the openings of the big
machicolations reveal only a part of the sky, or some little, unknown
flower which has nestled in the battlement, its seed having been wafted
there on a stormy day and left to sprout in the cracks of the stones.
Presently, a long, balmy breeze swept over us like a sigh, and the trees
in the moats, the moss on the stones, the reeds in the water, the plants
among the ruins, and the ivy, which covered the tower from top to bottom
with a layer of shining leaves, all trembled and shook their foliage;
the corn in the fields rippled in endless waves that again and again
bent the swaying tops of the ears; the pond wrinkled and welled up
against the foot of the tower; the leaves of the ivy all quivered at
once, and an apple-tree in bloom covered the ground with pink blossoms.
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