close against the flanking tower on the left hand of the courtyard
was a low, square house of two stories only. The whole ground floor
was stabling, room and to spare for half a hundred horses, and filled
frequently enough, no doubt, in the great days of the Great Henry. On
the first floor, to which three or four staircases gave access, there
were plenty of apartments; indeed, suites of them. But nearly all stood
empty, and the row of windows looked blank and curtainless across the
crumbling garden to the Italian house.

It was one of the many tragedies of that smiling, sunny land where
only man, it seems, is vile; for nature has enclosed within its
frontier-lines all the varied wealth and beauty of her treasures.

Marie led the way up the first staircase, which was straight and
narrow. The carpet, carefully rolled and laid aside on the landing, was
threadbare and colourless. The muslin curtains, folded back and pinned
together, were darned and yellow with frequent washing and the rust of
ancient damp. She opened the door of the first room at the head of
the stairs. It had once been the apartment of some servitor; now it
contained furniture of the gorgeous days of Louis XIV., with all the
colour gone from its tapestry, all the woodwork grey and worm-eaten.

"Not that one," said Marie, as the Abbe struggled with the lever that
fastened the window. "That one has not been opened for many years. See!
the glass rattles in the frame. It is the other that opens."

Without comment the Abbe opened the other window and threw back the
shutters, from which all the paint had peeled away, and let in the
scented air. Mignonette close at hand--which had bloomed and died
and cast its seed amid the old walls and falling stones since Marie
Antoinette had taught the women of France to take an interest in their
gardens; and from the great plains beyond--flat and fat--carefully laid
there by the Garonne to give the world its finest wines, rose up the
subtle scent of vines in bloom.

"The drawing-room," said Marie, and making a mock-curtsey toward the
door, which stood open to the dim stairs, she made a grand gesture with
her hand, still red and wrinkled from the wash-tub. "Will the King of
France be pleased to enter and seat himself? There are three chairs, but
one of them is broken, so his Majesty's suite must stand."

With a strident laugh she passed on to the next room through folding
doors.

"The principal room," she announced, w