rdly Chaumont is that of an English suburban villa; and in that and in
other places there is little suggestion, in the untended aspect of walk
and lawns, of the gardener the British Islands know. The manor as we see
it dates from the early part of the sixteenth century; and the
industrious Abbe Chevalier, in his very entertaining though slightly
rose-coloured book on Touraine,[b] speaks of it as "perhaps the purest
expression of the _belle Renaissance francoise_." "Its height," he goes
on "is divided between two storeys, terminating under the roof in a
projecting entablature which imitates a row of machicolations. Carven
chimneys and tall dormer windows, covered with imagery, rise from the
roofs; turrets on brackets, of elegant shape, hang with the greatest
lightness from the angles of the building. The soberness of the main
lines, the harmony of the empty spaces and those that are filled out,
the prominence of the crowning parts, the delicacy of all the details,
constitute an enchanting whole." And then the Abbe speaks of the
admirable staircase which adorns the north front and which, with its
extension inside, constitutes the principal treasure of Azay. The
staircase passes beneath one of the richest of porticos--a portico over
which a monumental salamander indulges in the most decorative
contortions. The sculptured vaults of stone which cover the windings of
the staircase within, the fruits, flowers, ciphers, heraldic signs, are
of the noblest effect. The interior of the chateau is rich, comfortable,
extremely modern; but it makes no picture that compares with its
external face, about which, with its charming proportions, its profuse
yet not extravagant sculpture, there is something very tranquil and
pure.

[b] "Promenades pittoresques en Touraine." Tours: 1869.

I took a particular fancy to the roof, high, steep, old, with its slope
of bluish slate, and the way the weather-worn chimneys seemed to grow
out of it--living things in a deep soil. The single defect of the house
is the blankness and bareness of its walls, which have none of that
delicate parasitic deposit that agrees so well--to the eye--with the
surface of old dwellings. It is true that this bareness results in a
kind of silvery whiteness of complexion which carries out the tone of
the quiet pools and even that of the scanty and shadeless park.

[Illustration]

Chapter ix

[Langeais]

I hardly know what to say about the tone of Langeais, wh