A pair of Little Grebes interrupted brooding of eggs and was cautious about a Gray Heron coming close to their nest

PASTORALS 34: -－Will you shut up with your Cock-a doodle-doos...there's no point in coming to the country to sleep peacefully, －I'm woken everyday at three o'clock in the morning... I slept better in Paris, even when my wife was alive!..

Blown by the heat of the roof, Grandfather's head already seemed pale like a skull. Well, I'm not sure...do you remember what he said, when the red-hot iron was about to be put into his eyes? *

解雇と知って従業員愕く : 弁当片手に出勤した処寝耳に水の掲示を見て : 巣鴨車庫附近は巡査憲兵で警戒

BOHEMIANS OF PARIS 8: THE GRAMMAR SCHOOL FRIEND: Ah! dear friend; how stout you've become... let me embrace you! let me embrace you! (the instant after, it was nothing but a mistake and the gentleman discovers that his extempore friend wished to make the acquaintance of... his watch!)

(Left) The little village on the far mountainside was already out of sight, and spring was coming around again. The grape trees were like large ailing snakes creeping under the coping stones of the wall. A brown light moved about in the tepid air. The void created by the selfsame every day is likely to chop down even the young trees that were left behind. In this everyday life, a thicket of trees protrudes like a boulder. (Right) The village I lived in has never been thought of as so small. The sun showed itself. The tall poplar forest looks like a beach being blown about by the wind. I grow dizzy just watching that seamless succession. If I can manage to get drunk on this succession of unchanging days, I can also grow to feel like I have taken down an elephant or snake. He differentiated things in this way, like a fluttering butterfly

Strangers in Paris 1: The arrival: What, no room!... －Not even for your hat-box... －What about in the sitting-room? －Twenty one Englishmen are in there... －In the attic?... －I've put eleven Savoyards in there... －In the celler?... －Fifteen Polish people have set up home... －Oh! hang it...oh! damnation... oh! Good God!...are we going to spend the night by the side of a milestone?... －That's what you'd better do, because then the night patrol will get you out of trouble quickly by taking you to sleep at the Prefecture of Police's office, Saint Martin cell!... specially reserved for the homeless and poodles without papers!..

THE TEMPTATION OF THE NEW St. ANTHONY: In that particular time, a great and fat sinner named Véron felt himself touched by grace: having reflected that the Press was a priesthood, he became a hermit and retired to a wild place in the midst of the steepest mountains of Montmartre. There, he spent his days and nights in prayer, and as a means of mortification, imposed upon himself as a penitence the continual re-reading of the list of subscribers to the Constitutionnel. －For his only food, Véron took at long intervals a light fragment of Regnauld pâté. －The Devil, irritated by this edifying yet unexpected conversion employed different strategies to make St. Véron succumb to his temptations, but our noble coenobite knew how to resist those things which until recently had held so many charms for him: Satan, who had taken the form of the Constitutionnel in order come in person to tempt St. Véron, returned to the road for Paris, furious. －The anchorite of Montmartre has, since this time, been placed in the rank of the greatest saints which Parisian journalism honours, and is especially supplicated by the unfortunates who have a head cold