noon
Swallows , who but lately had crossed the battlefields of southern Europe , glided around Hatton Towers , describing mystic figures in the air , whilst the high feeble chirping of the younger generation sounded from the nests beneath the eaves . Amid the climbing roses bees were busy , their communal labours an object-lesson for self-seeking man ; and almost at Mario 's feet a company of ants swarmed over the yet writhing body of an unfortunate caterpillar , who had dropped from an apple-tree to fall a prey to that savage natural law of death to the weak . The harsh voice of a sentinel crow spoke from a neighbouring cornfield , and a cloud of dusky marauders took the air instantly , and before the sharp crack of the farmer 's fowling-piece came to confirm the warning . In the hush of noon the tones of some haymakers at their patriarchal labours in a meadow beyond the stream were clearly audible -- and the atmosphere constantly vibrated with remote booming of guns on the Western front . Paul Mario was sufficiently distinguished in appearance to have been a person of no importance . His virile , curling black hair had the raven 's - wing sheen betraying remote Italian forebears , and for that matter there was in his entire cast of countenance and the poise of his fine head something statuesquely Roman , Southern , exotic . His large but deep-set eyes were of so dark a blue as very generally to pass for `` black '' ; and whilst in some moods they were soft and dreamy , in others , notably in moments of enthusiasm , they burnt darkly fierce in his pale olive face .