Excerpt from The Folk Afield
Annette Foy and Georges Leblond sat hand in hand and looked at their home. They had found a little nest in the brown bosom of Mount Orso, and not far distant, upon the saddle of stone between this towering hill and the next, there perched the mountain village of Castillon in the Maritime Alps. A tunnel pierces this ridge and carries the high road under the col.
The hamlet seemed to hang in air, lifted, like some fairy village delicate of fabric, against the blue. Its chimneys and little church tower rose from a lap of great hills, and Castillon partook of the mountain colours. The walls reflected something from the austerity and snow of uplifted nature round about; yet brighter tones warmed the ancient stucco with pleasant ochre and rose that suggested hope and humanity. The tiles were scorched to a silvery pink by summer suns; faint music of children's voices murmured on the air and told of young life and its interests.
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