Spring! Spring!
The white roses and the jasmine bloomed on our old garden wall, and the
deliciously fragrant honeysuckle hung its long garlands over it.
I began to live there from morning until night in closest intimacy with
the plants and the old stones. I listened to the sound of the water as
it plashed in the shade of the majestic plum tree, I studied the grasses
and the wood mosses that grew at the edge of my little lake; and upon
the warm side of the garden where the sun shone all through the day, the
cactus put out its buds.
My Wednesday evening trips to Limoise commenced again,--and it goes
without saying that I dreamed of the beloved place from one week to the
next to the detriment of my lessons and my other duties.