And then, inspiring me with that rapture which we feel on seeing a work by our favourite painter quite different from any of those that we already know, or, better still, when some one has taken us and set us down in front of a picture of which we have hitherto seen no more than a pencilled sketch, or when a piece of music which we have heard played over on the piano bursts out again in our ears with all the splendour and fullness of an orchestra, my grandfather called me to him, and, pointing to the hedge of Tansonville, said:
Une hartan aitonak, gure pintore kutunenaren ezagutzen genizkiòn guztietatik ezberdina den obra batekin topo egiten dugunean, edo lehendik arkatzezko zirriborro gisa bakarrik ikusia genuèn koadro baten aurrera garamatzatenean, edo pianoan soilik entzuna dugun atal bat orkestraren koloreez jantzia agertzen zaigunean sendi ohi dugun poz hori emanez, deitu egin zidan eta, Tansonvilleko heskaia erakutsiz, esan: