He was liberating the imprisoned, full-breasted creatures.
The little village of M---- slept soundly as it was being flooded with
fluttering birds. Only the hypersensitive Vera was disturbed by the
monotonous beating of restless wings.
No longer was there any mystery regarding the pigeons.
V
In the morning the streets were covered with pink-breasted birds as well
as grey. Besides this, there were breeds and species of pigeons that the
villagers of M---- had never seen before. Wherever one turned, one saw
pigeons. They were on the ground and in the sky, as well as upon the
roofs. Their colours were mixed, and their leaders were lost.
Silly Peter ran joyfully about the streets waving a little white flag at
the disorganized flying tribes, waving a white flag as though it were a
truce to the sky.
For some reason or other, an extra large number of birds took refuge on
the gable and chimney of the Captain's stone house on the hill.
Late in the afternoon, as the charming Vera was playing at the piano, a
dark shadow crept over her page of music, and this was accompanied by a
scrambling noise from outside. As she turned about, she could see
through the corner of her eye a struggling figure across the window,
clambering on the vines. The body was silhouetted against the sky.
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