His uninvited guest was doing well,
As well as one with broken limb could do.
Thus Henri Clair, an artist, far from home,
Was thrust by fate upon a stranger’s care.
The leaves[384] have lost their summer hue of green;
The purple grapes in clusters thick hang low;
The grain is garnered, and a late bee wings
Its way across the porch. Young Clair and Maud
Stand side by side[385]; the setting sun shines full
Upon their faces[386]: pale is his and sad,