Explore "Yvette" by Guy De Maupassant on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
The table had been laid on the veranda that overlooked the river. Villa Printemps, the house that the Marquise Obardi had taken, stood halfway up the hillside, at the very point where just below the garden wall the Seine made a turn towards Marly. Opposite the house the island of Croissy formed a background of tall trees, a mass of leafage. A long reach of the broad river was clearly visible as far as the floating café, La Grenouillère, half hidden in the branches.
Night was coming down, calm and still, after a flaming riverside sunset; one of those tranquil evenings that bring with them a vague sense of happiness. Not a breath or air stirred the branches, no gust of wind disturbed the smooth translucent surface of the Seine. The air was warm, but not too hot; it was good to be alive. The grateful coolness of the riverbanks rose to the quiet sky.