n, a most interesting man and eloquent
preacher, promised to deliver a lecture on Racine from the pulpit; and
M. Vincent d'Indy, the distinguished composer and leader of the modern
school of music, undertook the music with Mme. Jeanne Maunay as singer;
he himself presiding at the organ.

I tried to persuade the proprietors of all the chateaux in the
neighbourhood to come, but I can't say I had much success. Some had
gout--some had mourning. I don't remember if any one "had married a wife
and therefore couldn't come."

However, we shall fill our own house, and give breakfast and dinner to
any one who will come. To-day we have been wandering about on the green
near the ruins, trying to find some place where we can give our friends
tea. The service in the church will certainly be long, and before the
theatrical performance begins we should like to arrange a little
gouter--but where? It is too far to go back to our house, and the
Sauvage, our usual resort, will be packed on that day, and quite off its
head, as they have two banquets morning and evening. The "Cafe des
Ruines," a dirty little place just under the great walls of the chateau,
didn't look inviting; but there was literally nothing else, so we
interviewed the proprietor, went in to the big room down stairs, which
was perfectly impossible, reeking with smoke, and smelling of cheap
liquor; but he told us he had a "tres belle salle" up stairs, where we
should be quite alone. We climbed up a dark, rickety little turning
staircase, and found ourselves in quite a good room, with three large
windows on the green; the walls covered with pictures from the cheap
illustrated papers, and on the whole not too dirty. We have taken it for
the afternoon, told the patron we would come to-morrow, put up tables,
and make as many preparations as we could for the great day. He was very
anxious to furnish something--some "vin du pays;" but we told him all we
wanted was fire, plenty of hot water, and a good scrubbing of floor and
windows.

It is enchanting this afternoon. We are taking advantage of the fine
weather to drive about the country, and show our friends some of our big
farms and quaint little villages. They look exactly as they did a
hundred years ago, "when the Cossacks were here," as they say in the
country. Some of the inns have still kept their old-fashioned signs and
names. Near May, on the road to Meaux, Bossuet's fine old cathedral
town, there is a nice old square re