Every foot of the Ducros' property was carefully cultivated, with
vineyards above on the terraced hillside, olive-yards below, and
mulberry trees on the lower levels. Our black mulberry, with its
cloying, luscious fruit, is not the sort used for silkworms; it is
the white mulberry, which does not fruit, that these clever little
alchemists transmute into glossy, profitable cocoons of silk. The
Ducros made their own olive-oil, and their own admirable wine.
In that sun-drenched cup amongst the hills, roses bloomed all the
year round. I always see Nyons with my inner eyes from the terrace
in front of the house, the air fragrant with roses, and the
soothing gurgle of the fountain below in my ears as it splashed
melodiously into its stone reservoir, the little town standing out
a vivid yellow against the silver background of olive trees, and
the fantastic outlines of the surrounding hills steeped in that
wonderful deep Provencal blue. In spite of its dullness, I and the
three other pupils liked the place. We all grew very fond of the
charming Ducros family, we appreciated the wonderful beauty of the
little spot, we climbed all the hills, and, above all, we had each
hired a velocipede.
Pages:
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180
181
182
183
184
185
186
187
188
189
190
191
192
193
194
195
196