violets, fuchsias, and geraniums, were bending out of the open windows, and slender oleander trees with their bunches of rose-colored flowers were standing at the doors of houses. School children, walking up the street towards the common, stopped now and then. A merchant, a candy seller, a toyshop, an unreadable advertisement on the wall,—everything interested and fascinated them. People stood in the doors of their shops, looked out of windows, or gathered in groups in the street,—everybody seemed to enjoy living that day. From their eyes, their movements, and their carriage, from their smiles and conversations, breathed the elasticity of energy.
Lucy’s soft, passive soul took in all that splendor with delight, She was like a prisoner who, while taking the air, feels the heat of the sun: she drew herself together, half closed her eyes, and dreamed, and warmed herself. While she watched the swallows, the flowers in the windows, the crystal air, the
