ts masses of jagged stone carved only
by the hand of time. Here, to the least artistic and the least trained
eye, is a ravishing contrast between this frontage, where marvels
throng, and the interior frontage of the chateau of Louis XII., which
is composed of a ground-floor of arcades of fairy lightness supported
by tiny columns resting at their base on a graceful platform, and of
two storeys above it, the windows of which are carved with delightful
sobriety. Beneath the arcade is a gallery, the walls of which are
painted in fresco, the ceiling also being painted; traces can still be
found of this magnificence, derived from Italy, and testifying to
the expeditions of our kings, to which the principality of Milan then
belonged.

Opposite to Francois I.'s wing was the chapel of the counts of Blois,
the facade of which is almost in harmony with the architecture of the
later dwelling of Louis XII. No words can picture the majestic
solidity of these three distinct masses of building. In spite of their
nonconformity of style, Royalty, powerful and firm, demonstrating its
dangers by the greatness of its precautions, was a bond, uniting these
three edifices, so different in character, two of which rested against
the vast hall of the States-general, towering high like a church.

Certainly, neither the simplicity nor the strength of the burgher
existence (which were depicted at the beginning of this history) in
which Art was always represented, were lacking to this royal habitation.
Blois was the fruitful and brilliant example to which the Bourgeoisie
and Feudality, Wealth and Nobility, gave such splendid replies in the
towns and in the rural regions. Imagination could not desire any other
sort of dwelling for the prince who reigned over France in the sixteenth
century. The richness of seignorial garments, the luxury of female
adornment, must have harmonized delightfully with the lace-work of these
stones so wonderfully manipulated. From floor to floor, as the king
of France went up the marvellous staircase of his chateau of Blois, he
could see the broad expanse of the beautiful Loire, which brought him
news of all his kingdom as it lay on either side of the great river,
two halves of a State facing each other, and semi-rivals. If, instead of
building Chambord in a barren, gloomy plain two leagues away, Francois
I. had placed it where, seventy years later, Gaston built his palace,
Versailles would never have existed, and Blois w