There were no doubts:
The enourmous house of count Jean Marc Favier was enviable.
Rosalie Lefranc, with her big brown eyes, she admired from above of a small cart, the imposing dwelling in distance.
It was a warm afternoon of the beginning of august and on that hour the sun was therefore high and therefore burning to leave real wakes of smoke on the road.
She removed away with an awkward gesture slightly her locks, because of a strong sultriness they had been glue in forehead and she rethought of the long travel.


At the next time!!!