There is the Valley and its lake set in forest-scenery and pastures, a small country in itself, hardly touched by the clamour of the world, before the arrival of the magic waves, which can fortunately be accepted or refused by pushing a button.
High solitude, long winters encouraging meditation and friendly gatherings around the fire-place.
A country separated from the rest of the world, accessible only by crossing the mountains through a huge fir forest looking across the gentle hills of the Canton de Vaud to the far-off Alpine barrier.
A little nation sheltered from our organized disorder, live up there, quiet, thoughtful, with dextrous hands setting the passing time ; a people who have, among other old traditions, held on to fraternal choral singing.