f all the
haunted houses that appeal in this mystical manner to the retrospective
imagination it cannot afford to be foolish. I thought of all this as I
drove back to Blois by the way of the Chateau de Cheverny. The road took
us out of the park of Chambord, but through a region of flat woodland,
where the trees were not mighty, and again into the prosy plain of the
Sologne--a thankless soil to sow, I believe, but lately much amended by
the magic of cheerful French industry and thrift. The light had already
begun to fade, and my drive reminded me of a passage in some rural novel
of Madame Sand. I passed a couple of timber and plaster churches, which
looked very old, black and crooked, and had lumpish wooden porches and
galleries encircling the base. By the time I reached Cheverny the clear
twilight had approached. It was late to ask to be allowed to visit an
inhabited house; but it was the hour at which I like best to visit
almost anything. My coachman drew up before a gateway, in a high wall,
which opened upon a short avenue, along which I took my way on foot; the
coachmen in those parts being, for reasons best known to themselves,
mortally averse to driving up to a house. I answered the challenge of a
very tidy little portress who sat, in company with a couple of children,
enjoying the evening air in front of her lodge, and who told me to walk
a little farther and turn to the right. I obeyed her to the letter, and
my turn brought me into sight of a house as charming as an old manor in
a fairy tale. I had but a rapid and partial view of Cheverny; but that
view was a glimpse of perfection. A light, sweet mansion stood looking
over a wide green lawn, over banks of flowers and groups of trees. It
had a striking character of elegance, produced partly by a series of
Renaissance busts let into circular niches in the facade. The place
looked so private, so reserved, that it seemed an act of violence to
ring, a stranger and foreigner, at the graceful door. But if I had not
rung I should be unable to express--as it is such a pleasure to do--my
sense of the exceeding courtesy with which this admirable house is
shown. It was near the dinner-hour--the most sacred hour of the day; but
I was freely conducted into the inhabited apartments. They are extremely
beautiful. What I chiefly remember is the charming staircase of white
embroidered stone, and the great _salle des gardes_ and _chambre a
coucher du roi_ on the second floor. Chevern