OURANCE.

During the earlier years of the reign of Napoleon III., Fontainebleau was
a favorite resort of the emperor and the court, and consequently was much
frequented by good republicans from this democratic land of freedom. When,
in the later time, De Morny's speculation at Biarritz called the court to
the seaside, the sightseeing fraternity followed. Fontainebleau was
deserted, and has since been almost unknown to Americans, few caring to
crowd into the little cabarets save the faithful community of artists, who
still go there to study the grand old trees of the finest forest in
France. But among the elder generation of our fellow-citizens who have
"done the Continent" there must be many who, in the palmy days of
Fontainebleau, have seen the imperial hunt winding through the greenwood
aisles in much magnificence of environment, and heard the blare of horn
and bay of hound dying away in the distance as the splendid assembly
pursued the gorgeous if somewhat theatrical and spiritless pleasures of
the chase. It may have happened on such an occasion that an early return
of the green-and-gold-clad cortege has indicated a failure of the day's
sport, and the word "Courance" has passed from lip to lip as explaining
the disappointment. And then, perhaps, Madame Busque, the polite mistress
of the Hotel du Sol, has communicated the information that the obstinate
pig of a stag had the stupidity to run toward Le Courance, and the chase
was therefore abandoned. Why? _Mais_, because Le Courance is an
impenetrable wilderness, and besides--this with significant shrug and
gesture--besides, one goes not there. Not His Majesty? No, not even His
Majesty.

Continued inquiry may have elicited the fact that Chateau Courance, with
its wide park, situated some three leagues south-west from Fontainebleau,
had once been a splendid feudal residence, but was now supposed to be in
ruins, having been abandoned and wholly closed to the world for the
greater part of a century. The resident artists, if appealed to, may have
told of legends heard among the foresters and peasantry of old-time
tragedies, and of supernatural appearances haunting the deserted place.
They may have repeated, too, the gossip of the studios touching rare and
curious works of art, paintings by great masters, plate by Cellini and
early Sevres porcelain lost to the world within the walls of the chateau.
But as rumor, while giving these details, also maintained that no human
cr