ath
us, the guardian pointed out to me an odd edifice looking like a
combination of a modern Gothic church with a seaside villa. This, he
told me, was the residence of a distinguished artist of Paris, who
passes a part of every year in this region, making studies of forest
scenery. Beyond this, in a large park, is a chateau of the Marquis de la
Chataigneraie, once a part of the domain of Coucy.

The enceinte of the chateau is of enormous extent. The solidity of the
walls and the towers resisted so successfully the mines and pickaxes of
Richelieu that the great outlines of the immense building are still
easily definable, with fine traces of the architecture of the great
chapel. That St.-Louis and Henry IV. visited Coucy we know, and the
guardian was good enough to give me very minute and particular
information as to the chambers which they occupied.

He was a curious fellow, this guardian, an Alsatian immigrant, he
informed me. The people here, he thought, were not so much pleased as
they ought to be that the Government had given him the place, which
brings him in 400 francs a year, with the lodge I have mentioned for a
residence, and the right to all the crops of any kind he can raise on
the land attached to the chateau. He was then cutting the grass, which
grew very well within the precincts of the chateau. But he took great
pains to impress upon me that he was doing this, not so much for the
sake of the hay he expected to make as for the accommodation of visitors
like myself, 'to make the ground pleasanter to walk upon.'

This was an attention which no right-minded person could fail to
recognise with a _pour-boire_, particularly as the worthy guardian
complained of the extremely poor quality of the wine grown about Coucy.
I told him I had always heard that King Francis I. insisted on having
his wine sent to him from this place. 'Ah!' he replied, 'in those days
what did they know about good wine?'

The rooks in countless numbers were flying and cawing all over the
beautiful old place. 'I have tried to kill these birds,' said the
guardian wearily. 'They destroy my peas. But the cartridges cost too
much, and I have had to give it up.' He had been in his place four
months. I might think it very pleasant seeing it in June. But if I could
see it in February, with the wind howling 'through the tall trees and
around the huge tower!'

On my return to my neat little hostelry my host came out to meet me. 'He
had just heard