d very soon--old
women before their time--having worked always in the fields and
carried heavy burdens on their backs. The Scotchwoman kept much to
herself and rarely left the park. But all the women came to her with
their troubles. Nearly always the same story--the men spending their
earnings on drink and the poor mothers toiling and striving from dawn
till dark to give the little ones enough to eat. She was a strict
Protestant, very taciturn and reserved, quite the type of the old
Calvinist race who fought so hard against the "Scarlet Woman" when the
beautiful and unhappy Mary Stuart was reigning in Scotland and trying
to rule her wild subjects. I often went to see her and she would tell
me of her first days at the chateau, where everything was so different
from what she was accustomed to.

She didn't tell me what Mme. A. did--that she was a very handsome girl
and all the men of the establishment fell in love with her. There were
dramas of jealousy when she finally decided to marry the coachman. Our
chef had learned how to make various English cakes in London, and
whenever he made buns or a plum-pudding we used to take some to her.
She was a great reader, and we always kept the _Times_ for her, and
she and I sympathised with each other--two Anglo-Saxons married in
France.

Some of the traditions of the chateau were quite charming. I was
sitting in the lodge one day talking to Mme. Antoine, when the baker
appeared with what seemed to me an extraordinary provision of bread. I
said, "Does he leave the bread for the whole village with you?" "It is
not for me, madame, it is for the trainards (tramps) who pass on the
road," and she explained that all the chateaux gave a piece of bread
and two sous to any wayfarer who asked for food. She cut the bread
into good thick slices, and showed me a wooden bowl on the chimney,
filled with two-sous pieces. While I was there two men appeared at the
big gates, which were always open in the day. They were strong young
fellows carrying their bundles, and a sort of pitchfork slung over
their shoulders. They looked weary and footsore, their shoes worn in
holes. They asked for something to drink and some tobacco, didn't care
very much for the water, which was all that Mme. Antoine had to give
them, but thanked her civilly enough for the bread and sous.

The park wall was a good vantage-ground to see all (and that wasn't
much) that went on on the highroad. The diligence to Meaux passed
tw