Sometimes there are little girls among the throng of boys,-- are they their sisters?--who are almost young maidens, thin, feverish, with sunburnt hands, covered with freckles, crowned with poppies and ears of rye, gay, haggard, barefooted.
They can be seen devouring cherries among the wheat.
In the evening they can be heard laughing. These groups, warmly illuminated by the full glow of midday, or indistinctly seen in the twilight, occupy the thoughtful man for a very long time, and these visions mingle with his dreams.
Paris, centre, banlieue, circumference; this constitutes all the earth to those children.
They never venture beyond this. They can no more escape from the Parisian atmosphere than fish can escape from the water.