ss the next, simply by changing her
coiffure from ringlets to braids, and from a bandeau to a state of
dishevelled disorder. A little flattery of yourselves, artfully and well
done, and you are quite prepared to believe anything. In any case, the
countess was very pretty and very lonely.

'In those good days when gentlemen left home, there were neither
theatres nor concerts to amuse their poor neglected wives; they had no
operas nor balls nor soirees nor promenades. No; their only resource was
to work away at some huge piece of landscape embroidery, which, begun in
childhood, occupied a whole life, and transmitted a considerable labour
of background and foliage to the next generation. The only pleasant
people in those times, it seems to me, were the _jongleurs_ and
the pilgrims; they went about the world fulfilling the destinies of
newspapers; they chronicled the little events of the day--births,
marriages, deaths, etc.--and must have been a great comfort on a
winter's evening.

'Well, it so chanced that as the countess sat at her window one evening,
as usual, watching the sun go down, she beheld a palmer coming slowly
along up the causeway, leaning on his staff, and seeming sorely tired
and weary----

'But see,' cried Laura, at this moment, as we gained the crest of a
gentle acclivity, 'yonder is Bouvigne; it is a fine thing even yet.'

We both reined in our horses, the better to enjoy the prospect; and
certainly it was a grand one. Behind us, and stretching for miles in
either direction, was the great forest we had been traversing; the old
Ardennes had been a forest in the times of Caesar, its narrow pathways
echoing to the tread of Roman legions. In front was a richly cultivated
plain, undulating gently towards the Meuse, whose silver current wound
round it like a garter--the opposite bank being formed by an abrupt wall
of naked rocks of grey granite, sparkling with its brilliant hues, and
shining doubly in the calm stream at its foot. On one of the highest
cliffs, above an angle of the river, and commanding both reaches of the
stream for a considerable way, stood Bouvigne. Two great square towers
rising above a battlemented wall, pierced with long loopholes, stood
out against the clear sky; one of them, taller than the other, was
surmounted by a turret at the angle, from the top of which something
projected laterally, like a beam.

'Do you see that piece of timber yonder?' said Laura. 'Yes,' said I;
'it's the