epublicans not
made their position untenable. There was an instinctive, unreasonable
distrust of any of the old families whose names and antecedents had
kept them apart from any republican movement.

We had pleasant afternoons in the big drawing-room. In the morning we
did what we liked. The Maitresse de Maison never appeared in the
drawing-room till the twelve o'clock breakfast. I used to see her from
my window, coming and going--sometimes walking, when she was making
the round of the farm and garden, oftener in her little pony carriage
and occasionally in the automobile of her niece, who was staying in
the house. She occupied herself very much with all the village--old
people and children, everybody. After breakfast we used to sit
sometimes in the drawing-room--the two ladies working, the Comte de S.
reading his paper and telling us anything interesting he found there.
Both ladies had most artistic work--Mme. de S. a church ornament,
white satin ground with raised flowers and garlands, stretched, of
course, on the large embroidery frames they all use. Her niece,
Duchesse d'E., had quite another "installation" in one of the
windows--a table with all sorts of delicate little instruments. She
was book-binding--doing quite lovely things in imitation of the old
French binding. It was a work that required most delicate
manipulation, but she seemed to do it quite easily. I was rather
humiliated with my little knit petticoats--very hot work it is on a
blazing July day.

III

THE HOME OF LAFAYETTE

La Grange was looking its loveliest when I arrived the other day. It
was a bright, beautiful October afternoon and the first glimpse of the
chateau was most picturesque. It was all the more striking as the run
down from Paris was so ugly and commonplace. The suburbs of Paris
around the Gare de l'Est--the Plain of St. Denis and all the small
villages, with kitchen gardens, rows of green vegetables under glass
"cloches"--are anything but interesting. It was not until we got near
Grety and alongside of Ferrieres, the big Rothschild place, that we
seemed to be in the country. The broad green alleys of the park, with
the trees just changing a little, were quite charming. Our station was
Verneuil l'Etang, a quiet little country station dumped down in the
middle of the fields, and a drive of about fifty minutes brought us to
the chateau. The country is not at all pretty, always the same
thing--great cultivated fields stretchi