Scott,
Marryat, Fenimore Cooper, etc. The bedroom and cabinet de travail had
glass doors opening on the park. I had the same rooms upstairs,
giving one to my maid, for I was nervous at being so far away from
anyone. M. and Mme. A. and all the servants were at the other end of
the house, and there were no bells in our wing (nor anywhere else in
the house except in the dining-room). When I wanted a work-woman who
was sewing in the lingerie I had to go up a steep little winding
staircase, which connected our wing with the main building, and walk
the whole length of the gallery to the lingerie, which was at the
extreme end of the other wing. I was very fond of my rooms. The
bedroom and sitting-room opened on a balcony with a lovely view over
wood and park. When I sat there in the morning with my petit
dejeuner--cup of tea and roll--I could see all that went on in the
place. First the keeper would appear, a tall, handsome man, rather
the northern type, with fair hair and blue eyes, his gun always over
his shoulder, sacoche at his side, swinging along with the free,
vigorous step of a man accustomed to walk all day. Then Hubert, the
coachman, would come for orders, two little fox-terriers always
accompanying him, playing and barking, and rolling about on the
grass. Then the farmer's wife, driving herself in her gig, and
bringing cheese, butter, milk, and sometimes chickens when our
bassecour was getting low. A little later another lot would appear,
people from the village or canton, wanting to see their deputy and
have all manner of grievances redressed. It was curious sometimes to
make out, at the end of a long story, told in peasant dialect, with
many digressions, what particular service notre depute was expected
to render. I was present sometimes at some of the conversations, and
was astounded at W.'s patience and comprehension of what was
wanted--I never understood half.

[1] W. here and throughout this volume refers to Mme. Waddington's
husband, M. William Waddington.

We generally had our day to ourselves. We rode almost every
morning--long, delicious gallops in the woods, the horses going easily
and lightly over the grass roads; and the days W. was away and
couldn't ride, I used to walk about the park and gardens. The kitchen
garden was enormous--almost a park in itself--and in the season I eat
pounds of white grapes, which ripened to a fine gold color on the
walls in the sun. We rarely saw M. and Mme. A. until