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VILLA TRIANON
of the garden. And everywhere there are blue and
white and rose-colored flowers, planted in great masses
against the black-green evergreens.
We leave America early in June, tired out with the
breathless business of living, and find ourselves in our
old-world house and garden. We fall asleep to the
accompaniment of the tiny piping of the little people
in our garden. We awake to the matins of the birds.
We breakfast on the stone terrace, with boughs of trees
and clouds for our roof, and as we look out over the
masses of blue flowers and the smooth green tapis vert,
over the arched trelliage with its fountains and its
marbles, the great trees back of our domain frame the
supremely beautiful towers of the Chateau le Magnif-
icent, and we are far happier than anyone deserves
to be in this wicked world!
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