And now, how I miss that Paris noisy and dark? I’m so good in my mill! This is the corner that I longed for a warm and scented nook, a thousand miles from the newspapers, rental cars, fog. And how many beautiful things around me! No more than a week that I have settled here, and I have full and head of impressions and memories. Yesterday afternoon, not to go further, I witnessed the return of the herds to a farmhouse at the foot of the hill, and I swear I would not change the show for all you who have had premiere this week in Paris. And if not, judge.

Know that in Provence is customary to send the cattle to the Alps when they get hot flashes. Gross and people stay up there for five or six months, staying the night watchman, with grass as high as the belly, then when autumn begins to cool the atmosphere back down to the farmhouse, and back ruminate hillocks gray Bourgeois fragrant with rosemary. Stayed in last night returned to their flocks. From the morning waiting for the hall, wide open, and folds of the ground was strewn with fresh straw. Hourly people exclaimed: “Now they are in Eyguires, now in the Pardon.” Then suddenly, in the late afternoon, a general cry of there they are! And down there in the distance, move the herd saw wrapped in a thick cloud of dust. All the way seems to go with him. The old rams come to forefront with the horns and look forward Ranger, following the bulk of these rams, ewes and lambs somewhat fatigued between the legs of their mothers, perendengues red mules, carrying baskets of suckling one day, walking, ultimately, dogs, sweaty and with tongue hanging to the ground, and two readiness, very great rogues, wrapped in blankets embodied, so they fall to the foot layer.