e was very charming, however;
intelligent, cultivated, speaking beautiful French with a pretty
carefully trained voice--English just as well; we spoke the two
languages going from one to the other without knowing why. I was quite
sorry when we were summoned to tea. The room looked so pretty in the
twilight, the light from the fire danced all over the pictures and
gilt frames of the mirrors, leaving the corners quite in shadow. The
curtains were not drawn and we saw the darkness creeping up over the
lawn; quite at the edge of the wood the band of white mist was rising,
which we love to see in our part of the country, as it always means a
fine day for the morrow.

We had a cheery tea. W. and Mme. de Courval had made a long "tournee,"
and W. quite approved of all the changes and new acquisitions she had
made, particularly the little Breton cows. We left rather hurriedly as
we had just time to catch our train.

Our last glimpse of the chateau as we looked back from the turn in the
avenue was charming; there were lights in almost all the windows,
which were reflected in the moat; the moon was rising over the woods
at the back, and every tower and cornice of the enormous pile stood
out sharply in the cold clear light.

* * * * *

We didn't move often once we were settled in the chateau for the
autumn. It was very difficult to get W. away from his books and coins
and his woods; but occasionally a shooting party tempted him. We went
sometimes, about the Toussaint when the leaves were nearly fallen, to
stay with friends who had a fine chateau and estate about three hours
by rail from Paris, in the midst of the great plains of the Aube. The
first time we went, soon after my marriage, I was rather doubtful as
to how I should like it. I had never stayed in a French country house
and imagined it would be very stiff and formal; however, the
invitation was for three days--two days of shooting and one of
rest--and I thought that I could get through without being too
homesick.

We arrived about 4.30 for tea; the journey from Paris was through just
the same uninteresting country one always sees when leaving by the
Gare de l'Est. I think it is the ugliest sortie of all Paris. As we
got near the chateau the Seine appeared, winding in and out of the
meadows in very leisurely fashion. We just saw the house from the
train, standing rather low. The station is at the park gates--in fact,
the railway and the