DOI article:
Dowson, Ernest Christopher: Apple blossom in Brittany
DOI Page / Citation link:https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.27812#0098
94 Apple Blossom in Brittany
nuts in the market-place. Last of all a muster of clergy, four or
Ave strong, a small choir of bullet-headed boys, and the Cure or
the parish himself Monsieur Letetre chaunting from his book,
who brought up the rear.
Campion, leaning against his chestnut tree, watched them
dehle. Once a smile of recognition Hashed across his face, which
was answered by a girl in the procession. She just glanced from
her book, and the smile with which she let her eyes rest upon him
for a moment, before she dropped them, did not seem to detract
from her devotional air. She was very young and slight—she
might have been sixteen—and she had a singularly pretty face ;
her white dress was very simple, and her little straw hat, but both
of these she wore with an air which at once set her apart from her
companions, with their provincial Anery and their rather common-
place charms. Campion's eyes followed the little Agure until it
was lost in the distance, disappearing with the procession down a
by-street on its return journey to the church. And after they
had all passed, the singing, the last verse of the " Ave Maris
Stella," was borne across to him, through the still air, the voices of
children pleasantly predominating. He put on his hat at last, and
moved away ; every now and then he exchanged a greeting with
somebody—the communal doctor, the mayor ; while here and there
a woman explained him to her gossip in whispers as he passed, " It
is the Englishman of Mademoiselle Marie-Ursule—it is M. le
Cure's guest." It was to the dwelling of M. le Cure, indeed,
that Campion now made his way. Five minutes' walk brought
him to it; an unpretentious white house, lying back in its large
garden, away from the dusty road. It was an untidy garden,
rather useful than ornamental; a very little shade was offered by
one incongruous plane-tree, under which a wooden table was placed
and some chairs. After on those hot August days,
Campion
nuts in the market-place. Last of all a muster of clergy, four or
Ave strong, a small choir of bullet-headed boys, and the Cure or
the parish himself Monsieur Letetre chaunting from his book,
who brought up the rear.
Campion, leaning against his chestnut tree, watched them
dehle. Once a smile of recognition Hashed across his face, which
was answered by a girl in the procession. She just glanced from
her book, and the smile with which she let her eyes rest upon him
for a moment, before she dropped them, did not seem to detract
from her devotional air. She was very young and slight—she
might have been sixteen—and she had a singularly pretty face ;
her white dress was very simple, and her little straw hat, but both
of these she wore with an air which at once set her apart from her
companions, with their provincial Anery and their rather common-
place charms. Campion's eyes followed the little Agure until it
was lost in the distance, disappearing with the procession down a
by-street on its return journey to the church. And after they
had all passed, the singing, the last verse of the " Ave Maris
Stella," was borne across to him, through the still air, the voices of
children pleasantly predominating. He put on his hat at last, and
moved away ; every now and then he exchanged a greeting with
somebody—the communal doctor, the mayor ; while here and there
a woman explained him to her gossip in whispers as he passed, " It
is the Englishman of Mademoiselle Marie-Ursule—it is M. le
Cure's guest." It was to the dwelling of M. le Cure, indeed,
that Campion now made his way. Five minutes' walk brought
him to it; an unpretentious white house, lying back in its large
garden, away from the dusty road. It was an untidy garden,
rather useful than ornamental; a very little shade was offered by
one incongruous plane-tree, under which a wooden table was placed
and some chairs. After on those hot August days,
Campion