aid was that he had seen M. le Comte. Also, my
father. It is twenty-two years last day of Our Lady since he returned home
from here, cold, white and trembling, and put himself to arrange his
affairs. He said he was not ill, but the terrible whisper again agitated
itself--'He has seen M. le Comte!' He went to rest as usual, and rose not
again. Bah! this is not agreeable, all this. Let us go to the house."

Skirting the courtyards, the intendant led the way to the rear of the
chateau, passing between the moat and the grim old walls of the mediaeval
towers. Here the work of time was found to be more noticeable: the gardens
showed a strange confusion of fine and rare vegetation run wild, mingled
with intruding native growths; many of the wooden buildings, formerly the
offices of the household, had fallen to the ground; and the chapel, an
offset from the "new house," was partly in ruins.

Lighting his lantern, M. Gambeau descended a narrow passage leading to the
cellars. The exploration of the interior may be narrated in the words of
the adventurers:

"It was very dark, and at first we could see nothing, but presently the
glimmer of the dim lantern disclosed vast pillars and low arches of rough,
unhewn stone, and in the aisles rows of casks shrouded with cobwebs and
half buried in dust.

"'These are the wine-vaults,' said M. Gambeau, endeavoring to throw light
into the black recesses of the crypts on either hand.

"Perry stepped aside and struck one of the casks with his stick, when,
stumbling over the skid on the floor, he brought the whole pile of tierces
tumbling down in a heap of mould, rust and dirt. Escaping from the smudge
and smell of dead wood, we went up a few steps to another level in the
foundations, and came into the kitchens of the 'new house.' The main
kitchen is a vaulted chamber, divided by rows of pillars, the ceiling
being perhaps twenty feet in the clear, and the area of the entire floor
thirty feet by fifty. At either end are stone platforms, something like a
blacksmith's forge, only much larger, and over these smoke-hoods are
suspended, connected with the cavernous chimneys. At each corner of these
hearths are iron cranes hung with chains, and between two of these cranes
the intendant pointed out an indescribable mass of something supposed to
be a stag roasted whole--not at present a very toothsome-looking morsel.
Dozens of pots and kettles hang from the chains, and scores of pans and
ovens stand in