en me as I left the copse. With what perfection
do all women, even the most guileless, understand the arrangement of
a scenic effect? The movements of the servants, who were preparing to
serve breakfast, showed me that the meal had been delayed until after
the arrival of the diligence. She had not ventured to come to meet me.

Is this not our dream,--the dream of all lovers of the beautiful, under
whatsoever form it comes; the seraphic beauty that Luini put into his
Marriage of the Virgin, that noble fresco at Sarono; the beauty that
Rubens grasped in the tumult of his "Battle of the Thermodon"; the
beauty that five centuries have elaborated in the cathedrals of Seville
and Milan; the beauty of the Saracens at Granada, the beauty of Louis
XIV. at Versailles, the beauty of the Alps, and that of this Limagne in
which I stand?

Belonging to the estate, about which there is nothing too princely,
nor yet too financial, where prince and farmer-general have both lived
(which fact serves to explain it), are four thousand acres of woodland,
a park of some nine hundred acres, the mill, three leased farms, another
immense farm at Conches, and vineyards,--the whole producing a revenue
of about seventy thousand francs a year. Now you know Les Aigues, my
dear fellow; where I have been expected for the last two weeks, and
where I am at this moment, in the chintz-lined chamber assigned to
dearest friends.

Above the park, towards Conches, a dozen little brooks, clear, limpid
streams coming from the Morvan, fall into the pond, after adorning
with their silvery ribbons the valleys of the park and the magnificent
gardens around the chateau. The name of the place, Les Aigues, comes
from these charming streams of water; the estate was originally called
in the old title-deeds "Les Aigues-Vives" to distinguish it from
"Aigues-Mortes"; but the word "Vives" has now been dropped. The pond
empties into the stream, which follows the course of the avenue, through
a wide and straight canal bordered on both sides and along its
whole length by weeping willows. This canal, thus arched, produces a
delightful effect. Gliding through it, seated on a thwart of the little
boat, one could fancy one's self in the nave of some great cathedral,
the choir being formed of the main building of the house seen at the end
of it. When the setting sun casts its orange tones mingled with amber
upon the casements of the chateau, the effect is that of painted
windows.