f those gorgeous Parisian summer
palaces, which the parvenus in commerce and speculation have made their
prey, the chatelains were not in harmony with the chateau.

Since he had purchased his chateau, old Gardinois had done nothing but
injure the beauty of the beautiful property chance had placed in
his hands; cut down trees "for the view," filled his park with rough
obstructions to keep out trespassers, and reserved all his solicitude
for a magnificent kitchen-garden, which, as it produced fruit and
vegetables in abundance, seemed to him more like his own part of the
country--the land of the peasant.

As for the great salons, where the panels with paintings of famous
subjects were fading in the autumn fogs, as for the ponds overrun with
water-lilies, the grottoes, the stone bridges, he cared for them only
because of the admiration of visitors, and because of such elements was
composed that thing which so flattered his vanity as an ex-dealer in
cattle--a chateau!

Being already old, unable to hunt or fish, he passed his time
superintending the most trivial details of that large property. The
grain for the hens, the price of the last load of the second crop of
hay, the number of bales of straw stored in a magnificent circular
granary, furnished him with matter for scolding for a whole day; and
certain it is that, when one gazed from a distance at that lovely estate
of Savigny, the chateau on the hillside, the river, like a mirror,
flowing at its feet, the high terraces shaded by ivy, the supporting
wall of the park following the majestic slope of the ground, one never
would have suspected the proprietor's niggardliness and meanness of
spirit.

In the idleness consequent upon his wealth, M. Gardinois, being greatly
bored in Paris, lived at Savigny throughout the year, and the Fromonts
lived with him during the summer.

Madame Fromont was a mild, dull woman, whom her father's brutal
despotism had early molded to passive obedience for life. She maintained
the same attitude with her husband, whose constant kindness and
indulgence never had succeeded in triumphing over that humiliated,
taciturn nature, indifferent to everything, and, in some sense,
irresponsible. Having passed her life with no knowledge of business, she
had become rich without knowing it and without the slightest desire
to take advantage of it. Her fine apartments in Paris, her father's
magnificent chateau, made her uncomfortable. She occupied as small