noon
Outside , were sounds of bells of cattle starting for the pastures , of cows lowing to the rising sun , of church bells , -- and already , against the wall of the large square , the sharp snap of the Basque pelota : all the noises of a Pyrenean village beginning again its customary life for another day . And all this seemed to Ramuntcho the early music of a day 's festival . At an early hour , they returned , Arrochkoa and he , to their little wagon , and , crushing their caps against the wind , started their horse at a gallop on the roads , powdered with white frost . At Etchezar , where they arrived at noon , one would have thought it was summer , -- so beautiful was the sun . In the little garden in front of her house , Gracieuse sat on a stone bench : `` I have spoken to Arrochkoa ! '' said Ramuntcho to her , with a happy smile , as soon as they were alone -- `` And he is entirely with us , you know ! '' `` Oh !