d, and then struck
off across country toward Courance. Making such haste as the nature of the
ground permitted, he directed his course toward a tall chestnut tree, the
outlying sentinel of a host of its brethren in the park. Arriving beneath
the tree, he dismounted, and was immediately addressed by an old man in
peasant costume, whom he presented as Monsieur Gambeau, the intendant of
Courance. As the twilight was already falling, the mayor hastened to
depart, after cordially commending his charge to the care of the
intendant.

Their new host brought out a stout cob from the furze near by, and led the
way south-westward. After a silent ride of half a mile or more he
dismounted, and, producing a lantern, carefully piloted the horses over a
heap of stones overgrown with briers, probably a fallen section of wall
giving entrance to the park. Then turning more to the west, they followed
a sort of bridle-path leading directly into dense forest, where the fading
twilight was wholly obscured and the swinging lantern afforded the only
beacon to steer by. The close-growing trees impinged sharply on shins and
elbows, and overhanging boughs frequently occasioned still more serious
encounters. Patience and temper were nearly exhausted when a sudden glare
shot out of the darkness, and the intendant pulled up before an open door
whence issued a blaze of light.

A man came from within to take the horses, and was introduced by the
intendant as his son Emile and the heir to his office. Emile had the same
serious and reserved manner as his father, but he showed more cordiality.
He apologized for the poor appearance of the place, saying it had never
been more than a keeper's lodge, but that he had endeavored to make it
comfortable for them.

The door opened immediately into a good-sized square room, with a wide
fireplace occupying half the farther side, having a great fire of logs and
branches burning on the hearth. In the middle of the floor stood a solid
old oak table, whereon smoked a most inviting supper, served in an
incongruous array of quaint and curious dishes and antique vessels--fine
glass, splendid silver, broken delft, and translucent porcelain that drew
a cry of admiration from the delighted artists.

The intendant thawed out rapidly, warmed by the generous supper and
perhaps an extra sip or two of rare old Beaujolais. Allowing himself to be
prompted by M. Gambeau junior, he entertained his guests with many a
tradition of t