by windows with small panes. The apse rests on arched abutments
that are worthy of a cathedral. The clock-tower, placed in a transept of
the cross, is square and surmounted by a belfry. The church can be seen
from a great distance, for it stands at the top of the great square, at
the lower end of which the high-road passes through the town.

This square, large for the size of the town, is surrounded by
very original buildings, all of different epochs. Many, half-wood,
half-brick, with their timbers faced with slate, date back to the Middle
Ages. Others, of stone, with balconies, show the form of gable so dear
to our ancestors, which belongs to the twelfth century. Several charm
the eye with those old projecting beams, carved with grotesque faces,
which form the roof of a sort of shed, and recall the days when the
middle classes were exclusively commercial. The finest house among
them was that of the chief magistrate of former days,--a house with a
sculptured front on a line with the church, to which it forms a fine
accompaniment. Sold as national property, it was bought in by the
commune, which turned it into a town-hall and court-house, where
Monsieur Sarcus had presided ever since the establishment of municipal
judges.

This slight sketch will give an idea of the square of Soulanges, adorned
in the centre with a charming fountain brought from Italy in 1520 by
the Marechal de Soulanges, which was not unworthy of a great capital.
An unfailing jet of water, coming from a spring higher up the hill, was
shed by four Cupids in white marble, bearing shells in their arms and
baskets of grapes upon their heads.

Literary travellers who may pass this way (should any such follow Emile
Blondet) might imagine the spot to have inspired Moliere and the Spanish
drama, which held its footing so long on French boards, showing that
comedy is native to warm countries where so much of life is passed in
the public streets. The square of Soulanges is all the more a reminder
of that classic stage because the two principal streets, opening just on
a line with the fountain, afford the exit and entrances so necessary for
the dramatic masters and valets whose business it is either to meet or
to avoid each other. At the corner of one of these streets, called the
rue de la Fontaine, shone the notarial escutcheon of Maitre Lupin. The
houses of Messieurs Sarcus, Guerbet the collector, Brunet, Gourdon,
clerk of the court, and that of his brother th