dling furtively around the Trianon, the
Colonnade and the _Bosquet d'Apollon_; and the birds of the wood were
even now bethinking of their winter pilgrimage. Versailles was still
sad. The last rays of the setting sun shot forth reflected gold from the
windows of the chateau and soon the silver blue veil of a September
twilight came down like a curtain of gauze.

Versailles, the Versailles of other days, is gone forever. Who will
awaken its echoes in after years? When will the Trianon again awake with
the coquetries of a queen? When will the city of the _Roi Soleil_ come
again into its own proud splendour?

The sun has set, the great iron gates of the courtyard are closed, the
palace and all therein sleeps.

"_Allon nous en d'ici: laissons la place aux ombres._"

CHAPTER XVI

THE GARDENS OF VERSAILLES AND THE TRIANONS

Versailles without its court of marble, its fountains, its gardens and
its park, and the attendant Grand and Petit Trianons, would hardly have
the attraction that it has to-day.

The ensemble is something of more vast and varied extent than is to be
seen elsewhere, though its aspect has somewhat changed from what it was
of old, and the crowds of Sunday and holiday visitors give the courts
and alleyed walks somewhat the aspect of a modern amusement resort.

The gardens of Versailles were but the framing of a princely dwelling
created to respond to the requirements of a court which was attempting
to do things on a grand scale. Everything was designed with most
magnificent outlines; everything was royal, in all verity--architecture,
garden-making, fetes, receptions and promenades. What setting, then,
could have been more appropriate to the life of the times?

Versailles, the town, had never prospered, and has never proved
sufficiently attractive to become a popular suburb; and, though to-day
it passed the mark of half a hundred thousand population, it never would
have existed at all had it not been for the palace of Louis XIV.

Were it not for the palace and its attributes, Versailles would have
absolutely no memories for visitors, except such as may have lunched
well at the Hotel des Reservoirs or the Hotel du Trianon. That is not
everything, to be sure; but it is something, even when one is on an
historic pilgrimage.

Even in the day of Louis XVI the popular taste was changing and
Versailles was contemptuously referred to as a world of automota, of
cold, unfeeling statuary and of Noah's