the
hills.

[14] Mareuil is the name of the village near our place in France.

Countess de Nadaillac, Countess Florian's sister-in-law, arrived to-day
with her daughter for a short visit. We had a pleasant evening with
music, billiards, and dominoes (a favorite game in this country). The
dowager countess always plays two games, and precisely at half-past nine
her old man-servant appears and escorts her to her rooms. We all break
up early; the ten o'clock bell is usually the signal. It rings every
night, just as it has done for hundreds of years. The town lights are
put out and the inhabitants understand that the authorities are not
responsible for anything that may happen in the streets of Valognes
after such a dangerous hour of the night.

... There are some fine places in the neighborhood. We went to-day to
Chiffevast, a large chateau which had belonged to the Darus, but has
been bought recently by a rich couple, Valognes people, who have made a
large fortune in cheese and butter. It seems their great market is
London.

They send over quantities via Cherbourg, which is only twenty minutes
off by rail. It is a splendid place--with a fine approach by a great
avenue with beautiful old trees. The chateau is a large, square
house--looks imposing as one drives up. We didn't see the master of the
house--he was away--but madame received us in all her best clothes. She
was much better dressed than we were, evidently by one of the good Paris
houses. Countess Florian had written to ask if we might come, so she was
under arms. She was a little nervous at first, talked a great deal, very
fast, but when she got accustomed to us it went more easily, and she
showed us the house with much pride. There was some good furniture and
one beautiful coverlet of old lace and embroidery, which she had found
somewhere upstairs in an old chest of drawers. They have no
children--such a pity, as they are improving and beautifying the place
all the time. The drive home was delightful, facing the sunset. I was
amused with the Florians' old coachman. He is a curiosity--knows
everybody in the country. He was much interested in our visit and asked
if we had seen "la patronne"--said he knew her well, had often seen her
on a market day at Valognes, sitting in her little cart in the midst of
her cheeses and butter; said she was a brave femme. How strange it must
seem to people like that, just out of their hard-working peasant
life--and it _is_ hard