“Frogs?” I cried.
“They will complete our table. How did you sleep, my lady?”
“Splendid!”
“Do you love the country?”
“I begin to taste a greater joy in Nature.”
“I’m happy to hear it, my dear. My life is like the life of a bird. I awake when the sun rises. I lay me in the bed at the bird’s dipping into its nest. God made the night for keeping quiet. That is better than prayer itself. I light neither lamp nor candle. I presume that every young lady has certain secret work at night. Let me offer you a few candles!”
We ate breakfast from the table by the fire.
Frogs supplied a special dish.
I couldn’t touch it, thinking of the songs of frogs that I had heard all the night long.
Such a song! It was the muddy-booted song of the countryside. No valuable quality in it, of course. But I should say that they tried the best they could.