s was grand for a private person; but for
sweetness of air, for soft repose, for a calm and penetrating beauty,
always I prefer this chateau of Capello. The Scotch gentleman,
Francezka's father, must have had uncommon skill in choice. We rode up
the broad esplanade in front of the chateau. Smoke was coming from the
chimneys, the great doors were wide open, and old Peter, smiling with
pleasure, was standing there with a respectable staff of servants he
had collected. Francezka sprang from her horse, ran up the marble
steps, Gaston Cheverny hotly pursuing, and entered under her own roof,
crying, with smiles and tears:

"This is my _Joyeuse Entree_, as the old Brabantians had it! Welcome,
welcome--Monsieur Cheverny and my own good Babache!"

We entered a magnificent hall, with many suites of rooms. On the left,
was a handsome red saloon, and on this side, overlooking the bright
waters of the canal was a gallery of Diana, with the story of Actaeon
torn by his dogs told in panels on the walls. Beyond this still was a
small yellow saloon, with a large fireplace in it. Francezka's father,
it would appear, did not take kindly to the huge porcelain stoves of
the region, and followed the custom of his country in having
fireplaces in which great logs of wood were burned. Francezka ran from
room to room, Gaston Cheverny following her. I walked after them,
examining things at my leisure; among others, in the red saloon,
recognizing the portraits of Francezka's parents. Both of them had
died early, and their portraits were those of youth. Francezka was a
mingled likeness of both. She had not the exact and classic beauty of
her mother, for Francezka's beauty was highly irregular; but I fancy
it was the more seductive. And she had, in a great degree, the esprit
and the high-sparkling glance of the Scotch captain.

Among the servants and dependents who had assembled for the great
occasion, old Peter did not fail to point out to me his niece, Lisa.
She was a quiet-footed, slim little creature. She was not homely at
all, contrary to my expectations, and had very soft shy eyes, that
looked at one like the eyes of a bird that is shot.

In a little while the rest of the party arrived. Francezka met Madame
Riano and Count Saxe at the entrance to the chateau, assuming, from
the beginning, the air of being chatelaine of her own house--and she
scarce sixteen! And with such grace, such intelligence! She was
extremely polite now to Regnard Che