The Count of Monte Cristo

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spot was either in general favor or particular use by some inhabitant
of the house, which was faintly discernible through the dense mass of
verdure that partially concealed it, though situated but a hundred paces
off.

Whoever had selected this retired portion of the grounds as the boundary
of a walk, or as a place for meditation, was abundantly justified in
the choice by the absence of all glare, the cool, refreshing shade, the
screen it afforded from the scorching rays of the sun, that found no
entrance there even during the burning days of hottest summer, the
incessant and melodious warbling of birds, and the entire removal from
either the noise of the street or the bustle of the mansion. On the
evening of one of the warmest days spring had yet bestowed on the
inhabitants of Paris, might be seen negligently thrown upon the stone
bench, a book, a parasol, and a work-basket, from which hung a partly
embroidered cambric handkerchief, while at a little distance from these
articles was a young woman, standing close to the iron gate, endeavoring