Little Maurice had the desire of his heart, for the sun shone all day long. He could pick flowers and smell sweet country air, and the boy born under these sunny skies revived like a tropical plant beneath their influence. It was a month now since the children had left Paris. They had remained for a day or so in Orleans, and then had wandered on, going farther and farther south, until at last they had passed the great seaport1 town of Bordeaux, and found themselves in the monotonous2 forests of the Landes. The scenery was not pretty here. The ground was flat, and for miles and miles around them swept an interminable growth of fir trees, each tall and straight, many having their bark pierced, and with small tin vessels3 fastened round their trunks to catch the turpentine which oozed4 slowly out. These trees, planted in long straight rows, and occupying whole leagues of country, would have been wearisome to eyes less occupied, to hearts less full, than those that looked out of the faces and beat in the breasts of the children who on foot still pursued their march. For in this forest Cecile's heart had revived. Before she reached Bordeaux she often had felt her hope fading. She had believed that her desire could never be accomplished5, for, inquire as they would, they could get in none of the towns or villages they passed through any tidings of Lovedy. No one knew anything of an English girl in the least answering to her description. Many smiled almost pityingly on the eager little seekers, and thought the children a trifle mad to venture on so hopeless a search.
But here, in the Landes, were villages innumerable—small villages, sunny and peaceful, where simple and kind-hearted folks lived, and barndoor-fowl strutted6 about happily, and the goats browsed7, and sheep fed; and the people in these tiny villages were very kind to the little pilgrims, and gave them food and shelter gladly and cheerfully, and answered all the questions which Cecile put through her interpreter, Joe, about Lovedy. Though there were no tidings of the blue-eyed girl who had half-broken her mother's heart, Cecile felt that here surely, or in some such place as here, she should find Lovedy, for were not these exactly the villages her stepmother had described when she lay a-dying? So Cecile trudged8 on peacefully, and each day dawned with a fresh desire. Joe, too, was happy; he had lost his fear of Anton. Anton could never surely pursue him here. There was no danger now of his being forced back to that old dreadful life. The hardships, the cold, the beatings, the starvings, lay behind him; he was a French boy again. Soon someone would call him by his old forgotten name of Alphonse, and he should look into his mother's eyes, and then go out among the vineyards with his brother Jean. Yes, Joe was very happy, he was loved and he loved; he was useful, too, necessary indeed to the children; and every day brought him nearer to his beloved Pyrenees. Once amongst those mountains, he had a sort of idea that he soon should roll off that seven years of London cruelty and defilement9, and become a happy and innocent child again.
Of course, Maurice was joyful10 in the Landes; he liked the south, it was sunny and good, and he liked the kind peasant-women, who all petted the pretty boy, and fed him on the freshest of eggs and richest of goat's milk. But, perhaps, of all the little pilgrims, Toby was now the happiest—the most absolutely contented11. Not a cloud hung over Toby's sky, not a care lingered in his mind.
He was useful too—indeed he was almost the breadwinner of the little party. For Joe had at last taught Toby to dance, and to dance with skill quite remarkable12 in a dog of his age. No one knew what Toby suffered in learning that rather ponderous13 dance; how stiff his poor legs felt, how weak his back, how hard he had to struggle to keep his balance. But from the day that Joe had rescued the children in the snow, Toby had become so absolutely his friend, had so completely withdrawn14 the fear with which at first he had regarded him, that now, for very love of Joe, he would do what he told him. He learned to dance, and from the time the children left Bordeaux, he had really by this one accomplishment15 supported the little party.
In the villages of the Landes the people were simple and innocent, they cared very little about centimes, sous, or francs; but they cared a great deal about amusement; and when Joe played his fiddle16 and Toby danced, they were so delighted, and so thoroughly17 enjoyed the sport, that in return they gave supper, bed, and breakfast to the whole party free of charge.
Thus Cecile's winsey frock still contained a great many francs put away toward a rainy day; for, since they entered the Landes, the children not only spent nothing, but lived better than they had ever done before.
Thus the days went on, and it all seemed very Arcadian and very peaceful, and no one guessed that a serpent could possibly come into so fair and innocent an Eden.

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收听单词发音

1
seaport
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n.海港,港口,港市 | |
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2
monotonous
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adj.单调的,一成不变的,使人厌倦的 | |
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3
vessels
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n.血管( vessel的名词复数 );船;容器;(具有特殊品质或接受特殊品质的)人 | |
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4
oozed
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v.(浓液等)慢慢地冒出,渗出( ooze的过去式和过去分词 );使(液体)缓缓流出;(浓液)渗出,慢慢流出 | |
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5
accomplished
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adj.有才艺的;有造诣的;达到了的 | |
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6
strutted
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趾高气扬地走,高视阔步( strut的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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7
browsed
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v.吃草( browse的过去式和过去分词 );随意翻阅;(在商店里)随便看看;(在计算机上)浏览信息 | |
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8
trudged
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vt.& vi.跋涉,吃力地走(trudge的过去式与过去分词形式) | |
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9
defilement
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n.弄脏,污辱,污秽 | |
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10
joyful
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adj.欢乐的,令人欢欣的 | |
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11
contented
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adj.满意的,安心的,知足的 | |
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12
remarkable
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adj.显著的,异常的,非凡的,值得注意的 | |
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13
ponderous
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adj.沉重的,笨重的,(文章)冗长的 | |
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14
withdrawn
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vt.收回;使退出;vi.撤退,退出 | |
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15
accomplishment
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n.完成,成就,(pl.)造诣,技能 | |
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16
fiddle
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n.小提琴;vi.拉提琴;不停拨弄,乱动 | |
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17
thoroughly
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adv.完全地,彻底地,十足地 | |
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