"A nightingale, the nearest one of a band which day and night offered themselves up in song around their well-stocked nests, drowned all the other voices, and Michel began to follow the pattern of the arabesque he was singing, waiting for the return of the long identical notes, each one reinforcing the other. He noted the "tz-tz-tz", which he compared to the sound of rings slipping down over a copper rod, the "coti-coti-coti" repeated as many as twenty times without a rest or a pause for breath... The waxing moon filled the long uncurtained window with powdery blue light, while the pink glow from the lamp reached the nearest stars on the syrings... In the silent countryside the loud-voiced nightingale was embarking once more on his night of trills, full fluted notes, variations of infinite range and isolated sounds which imitated the fallen pearl of some amorous toad."
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