Romain Rolland,
Colas Breugnon
(1919)
“ You can hear the clatter of the millwheel, the wheeze of the forge bellows, and the hammers beating on the anvil; [76] horses stamp and splash through the ford, carts bump along the road, whips crack, wooden shoes go pitter-patter; the butcher swings his chopper, the cobbler sings as he hammers in his nails,—and above is the blue spring sky, the white clouds flying before the light fresh breeze, and the genial sun warming everything. ”
