The light was obscured by clouds, great, sweet rain-clouds which came trooping from the west. Woods were all round, and close against her were low brown cattle, cropping clovered grass. Away on the horizon was a vague, vast, golden cloud, like a million threads of gossamer glowing in the sun.
She did not know what it was; yet it drew her eyes to it. She thought of the palaces.
A herdsman came by her to the cattle. She pointed to the cloud.
"What is that light?" she asked him.
The cowherd stared and laughed.
"That light? It is only the sun shining on the domes and the spires of Paris."
"Paris!"
She echoed the name with a great sob, and crossed her hands upon her breast, and in her way thanked God.
She had had no thought that she could be thus near to it.
She asked no more, but set straight on her way thither. It looked quite close.