quis, one little bird sang its sweetest song with all its might.
At this, the nearest stone face seemed to stare amazed, and with open
mouth and dropped under-jaw, looked awe-stricken.

Now the sun was full up, and movement began in the village. Casement
windows opened, crazy doors were unbarred, and people came forth
shivering--chilled, as yet, by the new sweet air. Then began the rarely
lightened toil of the day among the village population. Some to the
fountain; some to the fields; men and women here to dig and delve; men
and women there to see to the poor live stock, and lead the bony cows
out to such pasture as could be found by the roadside. In the church and
at the Cross a kneeling figure or two; attendant on the latter prayers,
the led cow, trying for a breakfast among the weeds at its foot.

The chateau awoke later, as became its quality, but awoke gradually and
surely. First, the lonely boar-spears and knives of the chase had been
reddened as of old; then had gleamed trenchant in the morning sunshine;
now doors and windows were thrown open, horses in their stables looked
round over their shoulders at the light and freshness pouring in at
doorways, leaves sparkled and rustled at iron-grated windows, dogs
pulled hard at their chains and reared, impatient to be loosed.

All these trivial incidents belonged to the routine of life and the
return of morning. Surely not so the ringing of the great bell of the
chateau, nor the running up and down the stairs, nor the hurried figures
on the terrace, nor the booting and tramping here and there and
everywhere, nor the quick saddling of horses and riding away?

What winds conveyed this hurry to the grizzled mender of roads, already
at work on the hill-top beyond the village, with his day's dinner (not
much to carry) lying in a bundle that it was worth no crow's while to
peck at, on a heap of stones? Had the birds, carrying some grains of it
to a distance, dropped one over him as they sow chance seeds? Whether or
no, the mender of roads ran, on the sultry morning, as if for his life,
down the hill, knee-high in dust, and never stopped till he got to the
fountain.

All the people of the village were at the fountain, standing about in
their depressed manner, and whispering low, but showing no other
emotions than grim curiosity and surprise. The led cows, hastily brought
in and tethered to anything that would hold them, were looking stupidly
on, or lying down chewing the c