It is an ancient house, embosomed in
beautiful woods and gardens. At the entrance are large military lodges,
for the accommodation of a squadron of the consular cavalry, who mount
guard when their general is here.

[Illustration: _Malmaison._]

At St. Germain's we breakfasted, upon pork cutlets, excellent bread,
wine, and cherries, for twenty sols, or ten pence english. At Mante we
had an excellent dinner, of several dishes, for thirty sols, or one
shilling and three pence english. Soon after we had passed Mante, we
left the higher norman road, and entered a country extremely picturesque
and rich. We were conducted through the forest of Evreux, by an escort
of chasseurs. This vast tract of land is infested by an immense
banditti, who live in large excavations in the earth, similar to the
subterranean apartments of the celebrated robbers, in whose service Gil
Blas was rather reluctantly enrolled, and generally assail the
traveller, with a force which would render common resistance perilous,
and unavailing. This forest, in the course of the year, furnishes
considerable employ for the guillotine of Caen, where the tribunal of
justice is seated. The appearance of our guards was terrific enough to
appal such valiant souls, as once animated the frames of _prince Hal_,
and his merry friend _Ned Poins_. They wore roman helmets, from which
descended, to the bottom of their backs, an immense tail, of thick black
horsehair, their uniform was light green, and looked rather shabby.

We passed the forest without any molestation, and supped at the town of
Evreux, which is very pleasant, where we halted for about four hours. As
we were afterwards proceeding, I prepared myself to enjoy a little
sleep, and as I reclined for this purpose with my hat over my face, in a
corner of the carriage, I overheard one of my fellow travellers observe
to the other, "the englishman is sleeping," to which he replied, "no, he
is not sleeping, he is only thinking, it is the character of his
nation."

The french cannot bear the least appearance of thought; they have a
saying, "un homme qui rit ne sera jamais dangereux."

The next morning we breakfasted at Lisieux, an ancient town, in which
are the remains of a fine convent, which formerly belonged to the
Order of the Capuchins. For four or five miles before we approached the
town, the laughing and animated faces of groups of peasantry, all in
their jubilee dresses, the old mounted upon asses, and the