The literary classicism of Georges Sand filtered through the morphine drip of Jean Epstein's gaze. Nature speaks one translucent voice through the élan vital of the all things that are one thing. In Epstein, from early on, all things are one God. The wind. The voice of the wind. The wind predominates here. And those dissolves. Enter here the arms of the master. The human figure: exhaling the breath of the sublime.