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diff --git a/10813.txt b/10813.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..7c87936 --- /dev/null +++ b/10813.txt @@ -0,0 +1,2747 @@ +Project Gutenberg's A Versailles Christmas-Tide, by Mary Stuart Boyd + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: A Versailles Christmas-Tide + +Author: Mary Stuart Boyd + +Release Date: January 23, 2004 [EBook #10813] +[Date last updated: December 22, 2004] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A VERSAILLES CHRISTMAS-TIDE *** + + + + +Produced by Suzanne Shell, Karen Robinson, David Garcia and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team. + + + + + +A VERSAILLES CHRISTMAS-TIDE + +By + +Mary Stuart Boyd + +With Fifty-three Illustrations by A.S. Boyd + +1901 + + + + + + +Contents + + I. The Unexpected Happens + II. Ogams + III. The Town + IV. Our Arbre de Noel + V. Le Jour de l'Annee + VI. Ice-bound + VII. The Haunted Chateau + VIII. Marie Antoinette + IX. The Prisoners Released + + + + + +Illustrations + +The Summons +Storm Warning +Treasure Trove +The Red Cross in the Window +Enter M. le Docteur +Perpetual Motion +Ursa Major +Meal Considerations +The Two Colonels +The Young and Brave +Malcontent +The Aristocrat +Papa, Mama, et Bebe +Juvenile Progress +Automoblesse oblige +Sable Garb +A Football Team +Mistress and Maid +Sage and Onions +Marketing +Private Boxes +A Foraging Party +A Thriving Merchant +Chestnuts in the Avenue +The Tree Vendor +The Tree Bearer +Rosine +Alms and the Lady +Adoration +Thankfulness +One of the Devout +De l'eau Chaude +The Mill +The Presbytery +To the Place of Rest +While the Frost Holds +The Postman's Wrap +A Lapful of Warmth +The Daily Round +Three Babes and a Bonne +Snow in the Park +A Veteran of the Chateau +Un, Deux, Trois +Bedchamber of Louis XIV +Marie Leczinska +Madame Adelaide +Louis Quatorze +Where the Queen Played +Marie Antoinette +The Secret Stair +Madame sans Tete +Illumination +L'Envoi + + + + +CHAPTER I + +THE UNEXPECTED HAPPENS + + +[Illustration: The Summons] + +No project could have been less foreseen than was ours of wintering in +France, though it must be confessed that for several months our thoughts +had constantly strayed across the Channel. For the Boy was at school at +Versailles, banished there by our desire to fulfil a parental duty. + +The time of separation had dragged tardily past, until one foggy +December morning we awoke to the glad consciousness that that very +evening the Boy would be with us again. Across the breakfast-table we +kept saying to each other, "It seems scarcely possible that the Boy is +really coming home to-night," but all the while we hugged the assurance +that it was. + +The Boy is an ordinary snub-nosed, shock-headed urchin of thirteen, with +no special claim to distinction save the negative one of being an only +child. Yet without his cheerful presence our home seemed empty and dull. +Any attempts at merry-making failed to restore its life. Now all was +agog for his return. The house was in its most festive trim. Christmas +presents were hidden securely away. There was rejoicing downstairs as +well as up: the larder shelves were stored with seasonable fare, and +every bit of copper and brass sparkled a welcome. Even the kitchen cat +sported a ribbon, and had a specially energetic purr ready. + +Into the midst of our happy preparations the bad news fell with +bomb-like suddenness. The messenger who brought the telegram whistled +shrilly and shuffled a breakdown on the doorstep while he waited to hear +if there was an answer. + +"He is ill. He can't come. Scarlet fever," one of us said in an odd, +flat voice. + +"Scarlet fever. At school. Oh! when can we go to him? When is there a +boat?" cried the other. + +There was no question of expediency. The Boy lay sick in a foreign land, +so we went to him. It was full noon when the news came, and nightfall +saw us dashing through the murk of a wild mid-December night towards +Dover pier, feeling that only the express speed of the mail train was +quick enough for us to breathe in. + +But even the most apprehensive of journeys may hold its humours. Just at +the moment of starting anxious friends assisted a young lady into our +carriage. "She was going to Marseilles. Would we kindly see that she got +on all right?" We were only going as far as Paris direct. "Well, then, +as far as Paris. It would be a great favour." So from Charing Cross to +the Gare du Nord, Placidia, as we christened her, became our care. + +She was a large, handsome girl of about three-and-twenty. What was her +reason for journeying unattended to Cairo we know not. Whether she ever +reached her destination we are still in doubt, for a more complacently +incapable damsel never went a-voyaging. The Saracen maiden who followed +her English lover from the Holy Land by crying "London" and "A Becket" +was scarce so impotent as Placidia; for any information the Saracen +maiden had she retained, while Placidia naively admitted that she had +already forgotten by which line of steamers her passage through the +Mediterranean had been taken. + +Placidia had an irrational way of losing her possessions. While yet on +her way to the London railway station she had lost her tam-o'-shanter. +So perforce, she travelled in a large picture-hat which, although pretty +and becoming, was hardly suitable headgear for channel-crossing in +mid-winter. + +[Illustration: Storm Warning] + +It was a wild night; wet, with a rising north-west gale. Tarpaulined +porters swung themselves on to the carriage-steps as we drew up at Dover +pier, and warned us not to leave the train, as, owing to the storm, the +Calais boat would be an hour late in getting alongside. + +The Ostend packet, lying beside the quay in full sight of the +travellers, lurched giddily at her moorings. The fourth occupant of our +compartment, a sallow man with yellow whiskers, turned green with +apprehension. Not so Placidia. From amongst her chaotic hand-baggage she +extracted walnuts and mandarin oranges, and began eating with an +appetite that was a direct challenge to the Channel. Bravery or +foolhardiness could go no farther. + +Providence tempers the wind to the parents who are shorn of their lamb. +The tumult of waters left us scatheless, but poor Placidia early paid +the penalty of her rashness. She "thought" she was a good sailor--though +she acknowledged that this was her first sea-trip--and elected to remain +on deck. But before the harbour lights had faded behind us a sympathetic +mariner supported her limp form--the feathers of her incongruous hat +drooping in unison with their owner--down the swaying cabin staircase +and deposited her on a couch. + +"Oh! I do wish I hadn't eaten that fruit," she groaned when I offered +her smelling-salts. "But then, you know, I was so hungry!" + +In the _train rapide_ a little later, Placidia, when arranging her wraps +for the night journey, chanced, among the medley of her belongings, upon +a missing boat-ticket whose absence at the proper time had threatened +complications. She burst into good-humoured laughter at the discovery. +"Why, here's the ticket that man made all the fuss about. I really +thought he wasn't going to let me land till I found it. Now, I do wonder +how it got among my rugs?" + +We seemed to be awake all night, staring with wide, unseeing eyes out +into the darkness. Yet the chill before dawn found us blinking sleepily +at a blue-bloused porter who, throwing open the carriage door, curtly +announced that we were in Paris. + +Then followed a fruitless search for Placidia's luggage, a hunt which +was closed by Placidia recovering her registration ticket (with a +fragment of candy adhering to it) from one of the multifarious pockets +of her ulster, and finding that the luggage had been registered on to +Marseilles. "Will they charge duty on tobacco?" she inquired blandly, as +she watched the Customs examination of our things. "I've such a lot of +cigars in my boxes." + +There was an Old-Man-of-the-Sea-like tenacity in Placidia's smiling +impuissance. She did not know one syllable of French. A new-born babe +could not have revealed itself more utterly incompetent. I verily +believe that, despite our haste, we would have ended by escorting +Placidia across Paris, and ensconcing her in the Marseilles train, had +not Providence intervened in the person of a kindly disposed polyglot +traveller. So, leaving Placidia standing the picture of complacent +fatuosity in the midst of a group consisting of this new champion and +three porters, we sneaked away. + +[Illustration: Treasure Trove] + +Grey dawn was breaking as we drove towards St. Lazare Station, and the +daily life of the city was well begun. Lights were twinkling in the dark +interiors of the shops. Through the mysterious atmosphere figures loomed +mistily, then vanished into the gloom. But we got no more than a vague +impression of our surroundings. Throughout the interminable length of +drive across the city, and the subsequent slow train journey, our +thoughts were ever in advance. + +The tardy winter daylight had scarcely come before we were jolting in a +_fiacre_ over the stony streets of Versailles. In the gutters, crones +were eagerly rummaging among the dust heaps that awaited removal. In +France no degradation attaches to open economies. Housewives on their +way to fetch Gargantuan loaves or tiny bottles of milk for the matutinal +_cafe-au-lait_ cast searching glances as they passed, to see if among +the rubbish something of use to them might not be lurking. And at one +alluring mound an old gentleman of absurdly respectable exterior +perfunctorily turned over the scraps with the point of his cane. + +We had heard of a hotel, and the first thing we saw of it we liked. That +was a pair of sabots on the mat at the foot of the staircase. Pausing +only to remove the dust of travel, we set off to visit our son, walking +with timorous haste along the grand old avenue where the school was +situated. A little casement window to the left of the wide entrance-door +showed a red cross. We looked at it silently, wondering. + +[Illustration: The Red Cross in the Window] + +In response to our ring the portal opened mysteriously at touch of the +unseen concierge, and we entered. A conference with Monsieur le +Directeur, kindly, voluble, tactfully complimentary regarding our +halting French, followed. The interview over, we crossed the courtyard +our hearts beating quickly. At the top of a little flight of worn stone +steps was the door of the school hospital, and under the ivy-twined +trellis stood a sweet-faced Franciscan Soeur, waiting to welcome us. + +[Illustration: Enter M. Le Docteur] + +Passing through a tiny outer room--an odd combination of dispensary, +kitchen, and drawing-room with a red-tiled floor--we reached the +sick-chamber, and saw the Boy. A young compatriot, also a victim of the +disease, occupied another bed, but for the first moments we were +oblivious of his presence. Raising his fever-flushed face from the +pillows, the Boy eagerly stretched out his burning hands. + +"I heard your voices," his hoarse voice murmured contentedly, "and I +knew _you_ couldn't be ghosts." Poor child! in the semidarkness of the +lonely night-hours phantom voices had haunted him. We of the morning +were real. + +The good Soeur buzzed a mild frenzy of "Il ne faut pas toucher" about +our ears, but, all unheeding, we clasped the hot hands and crooned over +him. After the dreary months of separation, love overruled wisdom. Mere +prudence was not strong enough to keep us apart. + +Chief amongst the chaos of thoughts that had assailed us on the +reception of the bad news, was the necessity of engaging an English +medical man. But at the first sight of the French doctor, as, clad in a +long overall of white cotton, he entered the sick-room, our insular +prejudice vanished, ousted by complete confidence; a confidence that our +future experience of his professional skill and personal kindliness only +strengthened. + +It was with sore hearts that, the prescribed _cinq minutes_ ended, we +descended the little outside stair. Still, we had seen the Boy; and +though we could not nurse him, we were not forbidden to visit him. So we +were thankful too. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +OGAMS + + +[Illustration: Perpetual Motion] + +Our hotel was distinctively French, and immensely comfortable, in that +it had gleaned, and still retained, the creature comforts of a century +or two. Thus it combined the luxuries of hot-air radiators and electric +light with the enchantment of open wood fires. Viewed externally, the +building presented that airy aspect almost universal in Versailles +architecture. It was white-tinted, with many windows shuttered without +and heavily lace-draped within. + +A wide entrance led to the inner courtyard, where orange trees in green +tubs, and trelliswork with shrivelled stems and leaves still adhering, +suggested that it would be a pleasant summer lounge. Our hotel boasted a +_grand salon_, which opened from the courtyard. It was an elaborately +ornate room; but on a chilly December day even a plethora of +embellishment cannot be trusted to raise by a single degree the +temperature of the apartment it adorns, and the soul turns from a cold +hearth, however radiant its garnish of artificial blossoms. A private +parlour was scarcely necessary, for, with most French bedrooms, ours +shared the composite nature of the accommodation known in a certain +class of advertisement as "bed-sitting-room." So it was that during +these winter days we made ourselves at home in our chamber. + +The shape of the room was a geometrical problem. The three windows each +revealed different views, and the remainder of the walls curved +amazingly. At first sight the furniture consisted mainly of draperies +and looking-glass; for the room, though of ordinary dimensions, owned +three large mirrors and nine pairs of curtains. A stately bed, endowed +with a huge square down pillow, which served as quilt, stood in a +corner. Two armchairs in brocaded velvet and a centre table were +additions to the customary articles. A handsome timepiece and a +quartette of begilt candelabra decked the white marble mantelpiece, and +were duplicated in the large pier glass. The floor was of well-polished +wood, a strip of bright-hued carpet before the bed, a second before the +washstand, its only coverings. Need I say that the provision for +ablutions was one basin and a liliputian ewer, and that there was not a +fixed bath in the establishment? + +It was a resting-place full of incongruities; but apart from, or perhaps +because of, its oddities it had a cosy attractiveness. From the moment +of our entrance we felt at home. I think the logs that purred and +crackled on the hearth had much to do with its air of welcome. There is +a sense of companionship about a wood fire that more enduring coal +lacks. Like a delicate child, the very care it demands nurtures your +affection. There was something delightfully foreign and picturesque to +our town ideas in the heap of logs that Karl carried up in a great +_panier_ and piled at the side of the hearth. Even the little faggots of +kindling wood, willow-knotted and with the dry copper-tinted leaves +still clinging to the twigs, had a rustic charm. + +These were pleasant moments when, ascending from the chill outer air, we +found our chamber aglow with ruddy firelight that glinted in the mirrors +and sparkled on the shining surface of the polished floor; when we drew +our chairs up to the hearth, and, scorning the electric light, revelled +in the beauty of the leaping and darting flames. + +It was only in the _salle-a-manger_ that we saw the other occupants of +the hotel; and when we learned that several of them had lived _en +pension_ under the roof of the assiduous proprietor for periods varying +from five to seven years, we felt ephemeral, mere creatures of a moment, +and wholly unworthy of regard. + +[Illustration: Ursa Major] + +At eight o'clock Karl brought the _petit dejeuner_ of coffee and rolls +to our room. At eleven, our morning visit to the school hospital over, +we breakfasted in the _salle-a-manger_, a large bright room, one or +other of whose many south windows had almost daily, even in the depth of +winter, to be shaded against the rays of the sun. Three chandeliers of +glittering crystal starred with electric lights depended from the +ceiling. Half a dozen small tables stood down each side; four larger +ones occupied the centre of the floor, and were reserved for transient +custom. + +The first thing that struck us as peculiar was that every table save +ours was laid for a single person, with a half bottle of wine, red or +white, placed ready, in accordance with the known preference of the +expected guest. We soon gathered that several of the regular customers +lodged outside and, according to the French fashion, visited the hotel +for meals only. After the early days of keen anxiety regarding our +invalid had passed, we began to study our fellow guests individually and +to note their idiosyncrasies. Sitting at our allotted table during the +progress of the leisurely meals, we used to watch as one _habitue_ after +another entered, and, hanging coat and hat upon certain pegs, sat +silently down in his accustomed place, with an unvarying air of calm +deliberation. + +Then Iorson, the swift-footed _garcon_, would skim over the polished +boards to the newcomer, and, tendering the menu, would wait, pencil in +hand, until the guest, after careful contemplation, selected his five +_plats_ from its comprehensive list. + +[Illustration: Meal Considerations] + +The most picturesque man of the company had white moustaches of +surprising length. On cold days he appeared enveloped in a fur coat, a +garment of shaggy brown which, in conjunction with his hirsute +countenance, made his aspect suggest the hero in pantomime renderings of +"Beauty and the Beast." But in our hotel there was no Beauty, unless +indeed it were Yvette, and Yvette could hardly be termed beautiful. + +Yvette also lived outside. She did not come to _dejeuner_, but every +night precisely at a quarter-past seven the farther door would open, and +Yvette, her face expressing disgust with the world and all the things +thereof, would enter. + +Yvette was blonde, with neat little features, a pale complexion, and +tiny hands that were always ringless. She rang the changes on half a +dozen handsome cloaks of different degrees of warmth. To an intelligent +observer their wear might have served as a thermometer. Yvette was +_blasee_, and her millinery was in sympathy with her feelings. Her hats +had all a fringe of disconsolate feathers, whose melancholy plumage +emphasised the downward curve of her mouth. To see Yvette enter from the +darkness and, seating herself at her solitary table, droop over her +plate as though there were nothing in Versailles worth sitting upright +for, was to view _ennui_ personified. + +Yvette invariably drank white wine, and the food rarely pleased her. She +would cast a contemptuous look over the menu offered by the deferential +Henri, then turn wearily away, esteeming that no item on its length +merited even her most perfunctory consideration. But after one or two +despondent glances, Yvette ever made the best of a bad bargain, and +ordered quite a comprehensive little dinner, which she ate with the same +air of utter disdain. She always concluded by eating an orange dipped in +sugar. Even had a special table not been reserved for her, one could +have told where Yvette had dined by the bowl of powdered sugar, just as +one could have located the man with the fierce moustaches and the fur +coat by the presence of his pepper-mill, or the place of "Madame" from +her prodigal habit of rending a quarter-yard of the crusty French bread +in twain and consuming only the soft inside. + +From the ignorance of our cursory acquaintance we had judged the French +a sociable nation. Our stay at Versailles speedily convinced us of the +fallacy of that belief. Nothing could have impressed us so forcibly as +did the frigid silence that characterised the company. Many of them had +fed there daily for years, yet within the walls of the sunny dining-room +none exchanged even a salutation. This unexpected taciturnity in a +people whom we had been taught to regard as lively and voluble made us +almost ashamed of our own garrulity, and when, in the presence of the +silent company, we were tempted to exchange remarks, we found ourselves +doing it in hushed voices as though we were in church. + +A clearer knowledge, however, showed us that though some unspoken +convention rendered the hotel guests oblivious of each other's presence +while indoors, beyond the hotel walls they might hold communion. Two +retired military men, both wearing the red ribbon of the Legion of +Honour, as indeed did most of our _habitues_, sat at adjacent tables. +One, tall and thin, was a Colonel; the other, little and neat, a Colonel +also. To the casual gaze they appeared complete strangers, and we had +consumed many meals in their society before observing that whenever the +tall Colonel had sucked the last cerise from his glass of _eau-de-vie_, +and begun to fold his napkin--a formidable task, for the serviettes +fully deserved the designation later bestowed on them by the Boy, of +"young table-cloths"--the little Colonel made haste to fold his also. +Both rose from their chairs at the same instant, and the twain, having +received their hats from the attentive Iorson, vanished, still mute, +into the darkness together. + +[Illustration: The Two Colonels] + +Once, to our consternation, the little Colonel replaced his napkin in +its ring without waiting for the signal from the tall Colonel. But our +apprehension that they, in their dealings in that mysterious outer world +which twice daily they sought together, might have fallen into a +difference of opinion was dispelled by the little Colonel, who had +risen, stepping to his friend and holding out his hand. This the tall +Colonel without withdrawing his eyes from _Le Journal des Debats_ which +he was reading, silently pressed. Then, still without a word spoken or a +look exchanged, the little Colonel passed out alone. + +[Illustration: The Young and Brave] + +The average age of the Ogams was seventy. True, there was Dunois the +Young and Brave, who could not have been more than forty-five. What his +name really was we knew not, but something in his comparatively juvenile +appearance among the chevaliers suggested the appellation which for lack +of a better we retained. Dunois' youth might only be comparative, but +his bravery was indubitable; for who among the Ogams but he was daring +enough to tackle the _pate-de-foie-gras_, or the _abattis_, a stew +composed of the gizzards and livers of fowls? And who but Dunois would +have been so reckless as to follow baked mussels and _crepinettes_ with +_rognons frits_? + +Dunois, too, revealed intrepid leanings toward strange liquors. +Sometimes--it was usually at _dejeuner_ when he had dined out on the +previous evening--he would demand the wine-list of Iorson, and rejecting +the _vin blanc_ or _vin rouge_ which, being _compris_, contented the +others, would order himself something of a choice brand. One of his +favourite papers was _Le Rire_, and Henri, Iorson's youthful assistant, +regarded him with admiration. + +[Illustration: Malcontent] + +A less attractive presence in the dining-room was Madame. Madame, who +was an elderly dame of elephantine girth, had resided in the hotel for +half a dozen years, during which period her sole exercise had been taken +in slowly descending from her chamber in the upper regions for her +meals, and then, leisurely assimilation completed, in yet more slowly +ascending. Madame's allotted seat was placed in close proximity to the +hot-air register; and though Madame was usually one of the first to +enter the dining-room, she was generally the last to leave. Madame's +appetite was as animated as her body was lethargic. She always drank her +half-bottle of red wine to the dregs, and she invariably concluded with +a greengage in brandy. So it was small marvel that, when at last she +left her chair to "tortoise" upstairs, her complexion should be two +shades darker than when she descended. + +Five dishes, irrespective of _hors d'oeuvres_ at luncheon, and _potage_ +at dinner, were allowed each guest, and Madame's selection was an affair +of time. Our hotel was justly noted for its _cuisine_, yet on infrequent +occasions the food supplied to Madame was not to her mind. At these +times the whole establishment suffered until the irascible old lady's +taste was suited. One night at dinner Iorson had the misfortune to serve +Madame with some turkey that failed to meet with her approval. With the +air of an insulted empress, Madame ordered its removal. The conciliatory +Iorson obediently carried off the dish and speedily returned, bearing +what professed to be another portion. But from the glimpse we got as it +passed our table we had a shrewd suspicion that Iorson the wily had +merely turned over the piece of turkey and re-served it with a little +more gravy and an additional dressing of _cressons_. Madame, it +transpired, shared our suspicions, for this portion also she declined, +with renewed indignation. Then followed a long period of waiting, +wherein Madame, fidgeting restlessly on her seat, kept fierce eyes fixed +on the door through which the viands entered. + +Just as her impatience threatened to vent itself in action, Iorson +appeared bearing a third helping of turkey. Placing it before the irate +lady, he fled as though determined to debar a third repudiation. For a +moment an air of triumph pervaded Madame's features. Then she began to +gesticulate violently, with the evident intention of again attracting +Iorson's notice. But the forbearance even of the diplomatic Iorson was +at an end. Re-doubling his attentions to the diners at the farther side +of the room, he remained resolutely unconscious of Madame's signals, +which were rapidly becoming frantic. + +The less sophisticated Henri, however, feeling a boyish interest in the +little comedy, could not resist a curious glance in Madame's direction. +That was sufficient. Waving imperiously, Madame compelled his approach, +and, moving reluctantly, fearful of the issue, Henri advanced. + +"Couteau!" hissed Madame. Henri flew to fetch the desired implement, +and, realising that Madame had at last been satisfied, we again breathed +freely. + +A more attractive personage was a typical old aristocrat, officer of the +Legion of Honour, who used to enter, walk with great dignity to his +table, eat sparingly of one or two dishes, drink a glass of his _vin +ordinaire_ and retire. Sometimes he was accompanied by a tiny spaniel, +which occupied a chair beside him; and frequently a middle-aged son, +whose bourgeois appearance was in amazing contrast to that of his +refined old father, attended him. + +[Illustration: The Aristocrat] + +There were others, less interesting perhaps, but equally self-absorbed. +One afternoon, entering the cable car that runs--for fun, apparently, as +it rarely boasted a passenger--to and from the Trianon, we recognised in +its sole occupant an Ogam who during the weeks of our stay had eaten, in +evident oblivion of his human surroundings, at the table next to ours. +Forgetting that we were without the walls of silence, we expected no +greeting; but to our amazement he rose, and, placing himself opposite +us, conversed affably and in most excellent English for the rest of the +journey. To speak with him was to discover a courteous and travelled +gentleman. Yet during our stay in Versailles we never knew him exchange +even a bow with any of his fellow Ogams, who were men of like +qualifications, though, as he told us, he had taken his meals in the +hotel for over five years. + +Early in the year our peace was rudely broken by the advent of a +commercial man--a short, grey-haired being of an activity so foreign to +our usage that a feeling of unrest was imparted to the _salle-a-manger_ +throughout his stay. His movements were distractingly erratic. In his +opinion, meals were things to be treated casually, to be consumed +haphazard at any hour that chanced to suit. He did not enter the +dining-room at the exact moment each day as did the Ogams. He would rush +in, throw his hat on a peg, devour some food with unseemly haste, and +depart in less time than it took the others to reach the _legumes_. + +[Illustration: Papa, Mama et Bebe] + +He was hospitable too, and had a disconcerting way of inviting guests to +luncheon or dinner, and then forgetting that he had done so. One morning +a stranger entered, and after a brief conference with Iorson, was +conducted to the commercial man's table to await his arrival. The +regular customers took their wonted places, and began in their leisurely +fashion to breakfast, and still the visitor sat alone, starting up +expectantly every time a door opened, then despondently resuming his +seat. + +At last Iorson, taking compassion, urged the neglected guest to while +away his period of waiting by trifling with the _hors-d'oeuvres_. He was +proceeding to allay the pangs of hunger with selections from the tray of +anchovies, sardines, pickled beet, and sliced sausage, when his host +entered, voluble and irrepressible as ever. The dignified Ogams +shuddered inwardly as his strident voice awoke the echoes of the room, +and their already stiff limbs became rigid with disapproval. + +In winter, transient visitors but rarely occupied one or other of the +square centre tables, though not infrequently a proud father and mother +who had come to visit a soldier son at the barracks, brought him to the +hotel for a meal, and for a space the radiance of blue and scarlet and +the glint of steel cast a military glamour over the staid company. + +An amusing little circumstance to us onlookers was that although the +supply of cooked food seemed equal to any demand, the arrival of even a +trio of unexpected guests to dinner invariably caused a dearth of bread. +For on their advent Iorson would dash out bareheaded into the night, to +reappear in an incredibly short time carrying a loaf nearly as tall as +himself. + +One morning a stalwart young Briton brought to breakfast a pretty +English cousin, on leave of absence from her boarding-school. His +knowledge of French was limited. When anything was wanted he shouted +"Garcon!" in a lordly voice, but it was the pretty cousin who gave the +order. _Dejeuner_ over, they departed in the direction of the Chateau. +And at sunset as we chanced to stroll along the Boulevard de la Reine, +we saw the pretty cousin, all the gaiety fled from her face, bidding her +escort farewell at the gate of a Pension pour Demoiselles. The ball was +over. Poor little Cinderella was perforce returning to the dust and +ashes of learning. + +[Illustration: Juvenile Progress] + + + + +CHAPTER III + +THE TOWN + + +The English-speaking traveller finds Versailles vastly more foreign than +the Antipodes. He may voyage for many weeks, and at each distant +stopping-place find his own tongue spoken around him, and his +conventions governing society. But let him leave London one night, cross +the Channel at its narrowest--and most turbulent--and sunrise will find +him an alien in a land whose denizens differ from him in language, +temperament, dress, food, manners, and customs. + +Of a former visit to Versailles we had retained little more than the +usual tourist's recollection of a hurried run through a palace of +fatiguing magnificence, a confusing peep at the Trianons, a glance +around the gorgeous state equipages, an unsatisfactory meal at one of +the open-air _cafes_, and a scamper back to Paris. But our winter +residence in the quaint old town revealed to us the existence of a life +that is all its own--a life widely variant, in its calm repose, from the +bustle and gaiety of the capital, but one that is replete with charm, +and abounding in picturesque-interest. + +[Illustration: Automoblesse Oblige] + +Versailles is not ancient; it is old, completely old. Since the fall of +the Second Empire it has stood still. Most of the clocks have run down, +as though they realised the futility of trying to keep pace with the +rest of the world. The future merges into the present, the present fades +into the past, and still the clocks of Versailles point to the same long +eventide. + +[Illustration: Sable Garb] + +The proximity of Paris is evinced only by the vividly tinted automobiles +that make Versailles their goal. Even they rarely tarry in the old town, +but, turning at the Chateau gates, lose no time in retracing their +impetuous flight towards a city whose usages accord better with their +creed of feverish hurry-scurry than do the conventions of reposeful +Versailles. And these fiery chariots of modernity, with their ghoulish, +fur-garbed, and hideously spectacled occupants, once their raucous, +cigale-like birr-r-r has died away in the distance, leave infinitely +less impression on the placid life of Versailles than do their wheels on +the roads they traverse. Under the grand trees of the wide avenues the +townsfolk move quietly about, busying themselves with their own affairs +and practising their little economies as they have been doing any time +during the last century. + +Perhaps it was the emphatic and demonstrative nature of the mourning +worn that gave us the idea that the better-class female population of +Versailles consisted chiefly of widows. When walking abroad we seemed +incessantly to encounter widows: widows young and old, from the aged to +the absurdly immature. It was only after a period of bewilderment that +it dawned upon us that the sepulchral garb and heavy crape veils +reaching from head to heel were not necessarily the emblems of +widowhood, but might signify some state of minor bereavement. In Britain +a display of black such as is an everyday sight at Versailles is +undreamt of, and one saw more crape veils in a day in Versailles than in +London in a week. Little girls, though their legs might be uncovered, +had their chubby features shrouded in disfiguring gauze and to our +unaccustomed foreign eyes a genuine widow represented nothing more +shapely than a more or less stubby pillar festooned with crape. + +But for an inborn conviction that a frugal race like the French would +not invest in a plethora of mourning garb only to cast it aside after a +few months' wear, and that therefore the period of wearing the willow +must be greatly protracted, we would have been haunted by the idea that +the adult male mortality of Versailles was enormous. + +"Do they wear such deep mourning for all relatives?" I asked our hotel +proprietor, who had just told us that during the first month of mourning +the disguising veils were worn over the faces. + +Monsieur shook his sleek head gravely, "But no, Madame, not for all. For +a husband, yes; for a father or mother, yes; for a sister or brother, an +uncle or aunt, yes; but for a cousin, _no_." + +He pronounced the _no_ so emphatically as almost to convince us of his +belief that in refusing to mourn in the most lugubrious degree for +cousins the Versaillese acted with praiseworthy self-denial. + +There seemed to be no medium between sackcloth and gala-dress. We seldom +noted the customary degrees of half-mourning. Plain colours were +evidently unpopular and fancy tartans of the most flamboyant hues +predominated amongst those who, during a spell of, say, three years had +been fortunate enough not to lose a parent, sister, brother, uncle, or +aunt. A perfectly natural reaction appeared to urge the _ci-devant_ +mourners to robe themselves in lively checks and tartans. It was as +though they said--"Here at last is our opportunity for gratifying our +natural taste in colours. It will probably be of but short duration. +Therefore let us select a combination of all the most brilliant tints +and wear them, for who knows how soon that gruesome pall of woe may +again enshroud us." + +Probably it was the vicinity of our hotel to the Church of Notre Dame +that, until we discovered its brighter side, led us to esteem Versailles +a veritable city of the dead, for on our bi-daily walks to visit the +invalids we were almost certain to encounter a funeral procession either +approaching or leaving Notre Dame. And on but rare occasions was the +great central door undraped with the sepulchral insignia which +proclaimed that a Mass for the dead was in prospect or in progress. +Sometimes the sable valance and portieres were heavily trimmed and +fringed with silver; at others there was only the scantiest display of +time-worn black cloth. + +[Illustration: A Football Team] + +The humblest funeral was affecting and impressive. As the sad little +procession moved along the streets--the wayfarers reverently uncovering +and soldiers saluting as it passed--the dirge-like chant of the +_Miserere_ never failed to fill my eyes with unbidden tears of sympathy +for the mourners, who, with bowed heads, walked behind the wreath-laden +hearse. + +Despite the abundant emblems of woe, Versailles can never appear other +than bright and attractive. Even in mid-winter the skies were clear, and +on the shortest days the sun seldom forgot to cast a warm glow over the +gay, white-painted houses. And though the women's dress tends towards +depression, the brilliant military uniforms make amends. There are +12,000 soldiers stationed in Versailles; and where a fifth of the +population is gorgeous in scarlet and blue and gold, no town can be +accused of lacking colour. + +Next to the redundant manifestations of grief, the thing that most +impressed us was the rigid economy practised in even the smallest +details of expenditure. Among the lower classes there is none of that +aping of fashion so prevalent in prodigal England; the different social +grades have each a distinctive dress and are content to wear it. Among +the men, blouses of stout blue cotton and sabots are common. Sometimes +velveteen trousers, whose original tint years of wear have toned to some +exquisite shade of heliotrope, and a russet coat worn with a fur cap and +red neckerchief, compose an effect that for harmonious colouring would +be hard to beat. The female of his species, as is the case in all +natural animals, is content to be less adorned. Her skirt is black, her +apron blue. While she is young, her neatly dressed hair, even in the +coldest weather, is guiltless of covering. As her years increase she +takes her choice of three head-dresses, and to shelter her grey locks +selects either a black knitted hood, a checked cotton handkerchief, or a +white cap of ridiculously unbecoming design. + +No French workaday father need fear that his earnings will be squandered +on such perishable adornments as feathers, artificial flowers, or +ribbons. The purchases of his spouse are certain to be governed by +extreme frugality. She selects the family raiment with a view to +durability. Flimsy finery that the sun would fade, shoddy materials that +a shower of rain would ruin, offer no temptations to her. When she +expends a few _sous_ on the cutting of her boy's hair, she has it +cropped until his cranium resembles the soft, furry skin of a mole, thus +rendering further outlay in this respect unlikely for months. And when +she buys a flannel shirt, a six-inch strip of the stuff, for future +mending, is always included in the price. + +But with all this economy there is an air of comfort, a complete absence +of squalor. In cold weather the school-girls wear snug hoods, or little +fur turbans; and boys have the picturesque and almost indestructible +berets of cloth or corduroy. Cloth boots that will conveniently slip +inside sabots for outdoor use are greatly in vogue, and the comfortable +Capuchin cloaks--whose peaked hood can be drawn over the head, thus +obviating the use of umbrellas--are favoured by both sexes and all ages. + +[Illustration: Mistress and Maid] + +As may be imagined, little is spent on luxuries. Vendors of frivolities +know better than to waste time tempting those provident people. On one +occasion only did I see money parted with lightly, and in that case the +bargain appeared astounding. One Sunday morning an enterprising huckster +of gimcrack jewellery, venturing out from Paris, had set down his strong +box on the verge of the market square, and, displaying to the admiring +eyes of the country folks, ladies' and gentlemen's watches with chains +complete, in the most dazzling of aureate metal, sold them at six sous +apiece as quickly as he could hand them out. + +Living is comparatively cheap in Versailles; though, as in all places +where the cost of existence is low, it must be hard to earn a livelihood +there. By far the larger proportion of the community reside in flats, +which can be rented at sums that rise in accordance with the +accommodation but are in all cases moderate. Housekeeping in a flat, +should the owner so will it, is ever conducive to economy, and life in a +French provincial town is simple and unconventional. + +[Illustration: Sage and Onions] + +Bread, wine, and vegetables, the staple foods of the nation, are good +and inexpensive. For 40 centimes one may purchase a bottle of _vin de +gard_, a thin tipple, doubtless; but what kind of claret could one buy +for fourpence a quart at home? _Graves_ I have seen priced at 50 +centimes, _Barsac_ at 60, and _eau de vie_ is plentiful at 1 franc 20! + +Fish are scarce, and beef is supposed to be dear; but when butter, eggs, +and cheese bulk so largely in the diet, the half chicken, the scrap of +tripe, the slice of garlic sausage, the tiny cut of beef for the +_ragout_, cannot be heavy items. Everything eatable is utilised, and +many weird edibles are sold; for the French can contrive tasty dishes +out of what in Britain would be thrown aside as offal. + +On three mornings a week--Sunday, Tuesday, and Friday--the presence of +the open-air market rouses Versailles from her dormouse-like slumber and +galvanises her into a state of activity that lasts for several hours. +Long before dawn, the roads leading townwards are busy with all manner +of vehicles, from the great waggon drawn by four white horses driven +tandem, and laden with a moving stack of hay, to the ramshackle +donkey-cart conveying half a score of cabbages, a heap of dandelions +grubbed from the meadows, and the owner. + +[Illustration: Marketing] + +By daybreak the market square under the leafless trees presents a lively +scene. There are stalls sacred to poultry, to butter, eggs, and cheese; +but the vegetable kingdom predominates. Flanked by bulwarks of greens +and bundles of leeks of incredible whiteness and thickness of stem, sit +the saleswomen, their heads swathed in gay cotton kerchiefs, and the +ground before them temptingly spread with little heaps of corn salad, of +chicory, and of yellow endive placed in adorable contrast to the scarlet +carrots, blood-red beetroot, pinky-fawn onions, and glorious orange-hued +pumpkins; while ready to hand are measures of white or mottled haricot +beans, of miniature Brussels sprouts, and of pink or yellow potatoes, an +esculent that in France occupies a very unimportant place compared with +that it holds amongst the lower classes in Britain. + +[Illustration: Private Boxes] + +In Versailles Madame does her own marketing, her maid--in sabots and +neat but usually hideous cap--accompanying her, basket laden. From stall +to stall Madame passes, buying a roll of creamy butter wrapped in fresh +leaves here, a fowl there, some eggs from the wrinkled old dame who +looks so swart and witch-like in contrast to her stock of milk-white +eggs. + +Madame makes her purchases judiciously--time is not a valuable commodity +in Versailles--and finishes, when the huge black basket is getting heavy +even for the strong arms of the squat little maid, by buying a mess of +cooked spinach from the pretty girl whose red hood makes a happy spot of +colour among the surrounding greenery, and a measure of onions from the +profound-looking sage who garners a winter livelihood from the summer +produce of his fields. + +[Illustration: A Foraging Party] + +Relations with uncooked food are, in Versailles, distinguished by an +unwonted intimacy. No one, however dignified his station or appearance, +is ashamed of purchasing the materials for his dinner in the open +market, or of carrying them home exposed to the view of the world +through the transpicuous meshes of a string bag. The portly gentleman +with the fur coat and waxed moustaches, who looks a general at least, +and is probably a tram-car conductor, bears his bunch of turnips with an +air that dignifies the office, just as the young sub-lieutenant in the +light blue cloak and red cap and trousers carries his mother's apples +and lettuces without a thought of shame. And it is easy to guess the +nature of the _dejeuner_ of this _simple soldat_ from the long loaf, the +bottle of _vin ordinaire_, and the onions that form the contents of his +net. In the street it was a common occurrence to encounter some +non-commissioned officer who, entrusted with the catering for his mess, +did his marketing accompanied by two underlings, who bore between them +the great open basket destined to hold his purchases. + +[Illustration: A Thriving Merchant] + +A picturesque appearance among the hucksters of the market square is the +_boite de carton_ seller. Blue-bloused, with his stock of lavender or +brown bandboxes strapped in a cardboard Tower of Pisa on his back, he +parades along, his wares finding ready sale; for his visits are +infrequent, and if one does not purchase at the moment, as does Madame, +the opportunity is gone. + +The spirit of camaraderie is strong amongst the good folks of the +market. One morning the Artist had paused a moment to make a rough +sketch of a plump, affable man who, shadowed by the green cotton awning +of his stall, was selling segments of round flat cheeses of goat's milk; +vile-smelling compounds that, judged from their outer coating of +withered leaves, straw, and dirt, would appear to have been made in a +stable and dried on a rubbish heap. The subject of the jotting, busy +with his customers, was all unconscious; but an old crone who sat, her +feet resting on a tiny charcoal stove, amidst a circle of decadent +greens, detecting the Artist's action, became excited, and after eyeing +him uneasily for a moment, confided her suspicions as to his ulterior +motive to a round-faced young countryman who retailed flowers close by. +He, recognising us as customers--even then we were laden with his +violets and mimosa--merely smiled at her concern. But his apathy only +served to heighten Madame's agitation. She was unwilling to leave her +snug seat yet felt that her imperative duty lay in acquainting Monsieur +du Fromage with the inexplicable behaviour of the inquisitive foreigner. +But the nefarious deed was already accomplished, and as we moved away +our last glimpse was of the little stove standing deserted, while Madame +hastened across the street in her clattering sabots to warn her friend. + +The bustle of the market is soon ended. By ten o'clock the piles of +vegetables are sensibly diminished. By half-past ten the white-capped +maid-servants have carried the heavy baskets home, and are busy +preparing lunch. At eleven o'clock the sharp boy whose stock-in-trade +consisted of three trays of snails stuffed _a la_ Bourgogne has sold all +the large ones at 45 centimes a dozen, all the small at 25, and quite +two-thirds of the medium-sized at 35 centimes. + +The clock points to eleven. The sun is high now. The vendors awaken to +the consciousness of hunger, and Madame of the _pommes frites_ stall, +whose assistant dexterously cuts the peeled tubers into strips, is fully +occupied in draining the crisp golden shreds from the boiling fat and +handing them over, well sprinkled with salt and pepper, to avid +customers, who devour them smoking hot, direct from their paper +cornucopias. + +Long before the first gloom of the early mid-winter dusk, all has been +cleared away. The rickety stalls have been demolished; the unsold +remainder of the goods disposed of; the worthy country folks, their +pockets heavy with _sous_, are well on their journey homewards, and only +a litter of straw, of cabbage leaves and leek tops remains as evidence +of the lively market of the morning. + +[Illustration: Chestnuts in the Avenue] + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +OUR ARBRE DE NOEL + + +We bought it on the Sunday morning from old Grand'mere Gomard in the +Avenue de St. Cloud. + +It was not a noble specimen of a Christmas-tree. Looked at with cold, +unimaginative eyes, it might have been considered lopsided; undersized +it undoubtedly was. Yet a pathetic familiarity in the desolate aspect of +the little tree aroused our sympathy as no rare horticultural trophy +ever could. + +Some Christmas fairy must have whispered to Grand'mere to grub up the +tiny tree and to include it in the stock she was taking into Versailles +on the market morning. For there it was, its roots stuck securely into a +big pot, looking like some forlorn forest bantling among the garden +plants. + +[Illustration: The Tree Vendor] + +Grand'mere Gomard had established herself in a cosy nook at the foot of +one of the great leafless trees of the Avenue. Straw hurdles were +cunningly arranged to form three sides of a square, in whose midst she +was seated on a rush-bottomed chair, like a queen on a humble throne. +Her head was bound by a gaily striped kerchief, and her feet rested +snugly on a charcoal stove. Her merchandise, which consisted of half a +dozen pots of pink and white primulas, a few spotted or crimson +cyclamen, sundry lettuce and cauliflower plants, and some roots of +pansies and daisies, was grouped around her. + +[Illustration: The Tree-Bearer] + +The primulas and cyclamen, though their pots were shrouded in pinafores +of white paper skilfully calculated to conceal any undue lankiness of +stem, left us unmoved. But the sight of the starveling little fir tree +reminded us that in the school hospital lay two sick boys whose roseate +dreams of London and holidays had suddenly changed to the knowledge that +weeks of isolation and imprisonment behind the window-blind with the red +cross lay before them. If we could not give them the longed-for home +Christmas, we could at least give them a Christmas-tree. + +The sight of foreign customers for Grand'mere Gomard speedily collected +a small group of interested spectators. A knot of children relinquished +their tantalising occupation of hanging round the pan of charcoal over +whose glow chestnuts were cracking appetisingly, and the stall of the +lady who with amazing celerity fried pancakes on a hot plate, and sold +them dotted with butter and sprinkled with sugar to the lucky possessors +of a _sou_. Even the sharp urchin who presided over the old red +umbrella, which, reversed, with the ferule fixed in a cross-bar of wood, +served as a receptacle for sheets of festive note-paper embellished with +lace edges and further adorned with coloured scraps, temporarily +entrusting a juvenile sister with his responsibilities, added his +presence to our court. + +[Illustration: Rosine] + +Christmas-trees seemed not to be greatly in demand in Versailles, and +many were the whispered communings as to what _les Anglais_ proposed +doing with the tree after they had bought it. When the transaction was +completed and Grand'mere Gomard had exchanged the tree, with a sheet of +_La Patrie_ wrapped round its pot, for a franc and our thanks, the +interest increased. We would require some one to carry our purchase, and +each of the bright-eyed, short-cropped Jeans and Pierres was eager to +offer himself. But our selection was already made. A slender boy in a +_beret_ and black pinafore, who had been our earliest spectator, was +singled out and entrusted with the conveyance of the _arbre de Noel_ to +our hotel. + +The fact that it had met with approbation appeared to encourage the +little tree. The change may have been imaginary, but from the moment it +passed into our possession the branches seemed less despondent, the +needles more erect. + +"Will you put toys on it?" the youthful porter asked suddenly. + +"Yes; it is for a sick boy--a boy who has fever. Have you ever had an +_arbre de Noel_?" + +"_Jamais_," was his conclusive reply: the tone thereof suggesting that +that was a felicity quite beyond the range of possibility. + +The tree secured, there began the comparatively difficult work of +finding the customary ornaments of glass and glitter to deck it. A +fruitless search had left us almost in despair, when, late on Monday +afternoon, we joyed to discover miniature candles of red, yellow, and +blue on the open-air stall in front of a toy-store. A rummage in the +interior of the shop procured candle clips, and a variety of glittering +bagatelles. Laden with treasure, we hurried back to the hotel, and began +the work of decoration in preparation for the morning. + +During its short stay in our room at the hotel, the erstwhile despised +little tree met with an adulation that must have warmed the heart within +its rough stem. When nothing more than three coloured glass globes, a +gilded walnut, and a gorgeous humming-bird with wings and tail of spun +glass had been suspended by narrow ribbon from its branches, Rosine, the +pretty Swiss chambermaid, chancing to enter the room with letters, was +struck with admiration and pronounced it "tres belle!" + +And Karl bringing in a fresh _panier_ of logs when the adorning was +complete, and silly little delightful baubles sparkled and twinkled from +every spray, putting down his burden, threw up his hands in amazement +and declared the _arbre de Noel_ "magnifique!" + +This alien Christmas-tree had an element all its own. When we were +searching for knick-knacks the shops were full of tiny Holy Babes lying +cradled in waxen innocence in mangers of yellow corn. One of these +little effigies we had bought because they pleased us. And when, the +decoration of the tree being nearly finished, the tip of the centre stem +standing scraggily naked called for covering, what more fitting than +that the dear little Sacred _Bebe_ in his nest of golden straw should +have the place of honour? + +It was late on Christmas Eve before our task was ended. But next morning +when Karl, carrying in our _petit dejeuner_, turned on the electric +light, and our anxious gaze sought our work, we found it good. + +Then followed a hurried packing of the loose presents; and, a _fiacre_ +having been summoned, the tree which had entered the room in all +humility passed out transmogrified beyond knowledge. Rosine, duster in +hand, leant over the banisters of the upper landing to watch its +descent. Karl saw it coming and flew to open the outer door for its +better egress. Even the stout old driver of the red-wheeled cab creaked +cumbrously round on his box to look upon its beauties. + +[Illustration: Alms and the Lady] + +The Market was busy in the square as we rattled through. From behind +their battlemented wares the country mice waged wordy war with the town +mice over the price of merchandise. But on this occasion we were too +engrossed to notice a scene whose picturesque humour usually fascinated +us, for as the carriage jogged over the rough roads the poor little +_arbre de Noel_ palpitated convulsively. The gewgaws clattered like +castanets, as though in frantic expostulation, and the radiant +spun-glass humming-birds quivered until we expected them to break from +their elastic fetters and fly away. The green and scarlet one with the +gold-flecked wings fell on the floor and rolled under the seat just as +the cab drew up at the great door of the school. + +The two Red-Cross prisoners who, now that the dominating heat of fever +had faded, were thinking wistfully of the forbidden joys of home, had no +suspicion of our intention, and we wished to surprise them. So, burdened +with our treasure, we slipped in quietly. + +From her lodge window the concierge nodded approval. And at the door of +the hospital the good Soeur received us, a flush of pleasure glorifying +her tranquil face. + +Then followed a moment wherein the patients were ordered to shut their +eyes, to reopen them upon the vision splendid of the _arbre de Noel_. +Perhaps it was the contrast to the meagre background of the tiny +school-hospital room, with its two white beds and bare walls, but, +placed in full view on the centre table, the tree was almost imposing. +Standing apart from Grand'mere's primulas and cyclamen as though, +conscious of its own inferiority, it did not wish to obtrude, it had +looked dejected, miserable. During its sojourn at the hotel the +appreciation of its meanness had troubled us. But now, in the shabby +little chamber, where there were no rival attractions to detract from +its glory, we felt proud of it. It was just the right size for the +surroundings. A two-franc tree, had Grand'mere possessed one, would have +been Brobdignagian and pretentious. + +[Illustration: Adoration] + +A donor who is handicapped by the knowledge that the gifts he selects +must within a few weeks be destroyed by fire, is rarely lavish in his +outlay. Yet our presents, wrapped in white paper and tied with blue +ribbons, when arranged round the flower-pot made a wonderful show, There +were mounted Boers who, when you pressed the ball at the end of the +air-tube, galloped in a wobbly, uncertain fashion. The invalids had good +fun later trying races with them, and the Boy professed to find that his +Boer gained an accelerated speed when he whispered "Bobs" to him. There +were tales of adventure and flasks of eau-de-Cologne and smart virile +pocket-books, one red morocco, the other blue. We regretted the +pocket-books; but their possession made the recipients who, boylike, +took no heed for the cleansing fires of the morrow, feel grown-up at +once. And they yearned for the advent of the first day of the year, that +they might begin writing in their new diaries. For the Sister there was +a miniature gold consecrated medal. It was a small tribute of our +esteem, but one that pleased the devout recipient. + +[Illustration: Thankfulness] + +Suspended among the purely ornamental trinkets of the tree hung tiny net +bags of crystallised violets and many large chocolates rolled up in +silver paper. The boys, who had subsisted for several days on nothing +more exciting than boiled milk, openly rejoiced when they caught sight +of the sweets. But to her patients' disgust, the Soeur, who had a pretty +wit of her own, promptly frustrated their intentions by counting the +dainties. + +"I count the chocolates. They are good boys, wise boys, honest boys, and +I have every confidence in them, but--I count the chocolates!" said the +Soeur. + +[Illustration: One of the Devout] + +As we passed back along the Rue de la Paroisse, worshippers were +flocking in and out of Notre Dame, running the gauntlet of the unsavoury +beggars who, loudly importunate, thronged the portals. Before the quiet +nook wherein, under a gold-bestarred canopy, was the tableau of the +Infant Jesus in the stable, little children stood in wide-eyed +adoration, and older people gazed with mute devotion. + +Some might deem the little spectacle theatrical, and there was a slight +irrelevance in the pot-plants that were grouped along the foreground, +but none could fail to be impressed by the silent reverence of the +congregation. No service was in process, yet many believers knelt at +prayer. Here a pretty girl returned thanks for evident blessings +received; there an old spinster, the narrowness of whose means forbade +her expending a couple of sous on the hire of a chair, knelt on the +chilly flags and murmured words of gratitude for benefits whereof her +appearance bore no outward indication. + +We had left the prisoners to the enjoyment of their newly acquired +property in the morning. At gloaming we again mounted the time-worn +outside stair leading to the chamber whose casement bore the ominous red +cross. The warm glow of firelight filled the room, scintillating in the +glittering facets of the baubles on the tree; and from their pillows two +pale-faced boys--boys who, despite their lengthening limbs were yet +happily children at heart--watched eager-eyed while the sweet-faced +Soeur, with reverential care, lit the candles that surrounded the Holy +_Bebe_. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +LE JOUR DE L'ANNEE + + +The closing days of 1900 had been unusually mild. Versailles townsfolk, +watching the clear skies for sign of change, declared that it would be +outside all precedent if Christmas week passed without snow. But, +defiant of rule, sunshine continued, and the new century opened +cloudless and bright. + +[Illustration: De L'eau Chaude] + +Karl, entering with hot water, gave us seasonable greeting, and as we +descended the stair, pretty Rosine, brushing boots at the open window of +the landing, also wished us a smiling _bonne nouvelle annee_. But within +or without there was little token of gaiety. Sundry booths for the sale +of gingerbread and cheap _jouets_, which had been erected in the Avenue +de St. Cloud, found business languishing, though a stalwart countryman +in blouse and sabots, whose stock-in-trade consisted of whirligigs +fashioned in the semblance of _moulins rouges_ and grotesque blue +Chinamen which he carried stuck into a straw wreath fixed on a tall +pole, had no lack of custom. + +The great food question never bulks so largely in the public interest as +at the close of a year, so perhaps it was but natural that the greatest +appreciation of the festive traditions of the season should be evinced +by the shops devoted to the sale of provender. Turkeys sported scarlet +bows on their toes as though anticipating a dance rather than the oven; +and by their sides sausages, their somewhat plethoric waists girdled by +pink ribbon sashes, seemed ready to join them in the frolic. In one +cookshop window a trio of plaster nymphs who stood ankle-deep in a pool +of crimped green paper, upheld a huge garland of cunningly moulded wax +roses, dahlias, and lilac, above which perched a pheasant regnant. This +trophy met with vast approbation until a rival establishment across the +way, not to be outdone, exhibited a centrepiece of unparalleled +originality, consisting as it did of a war scene modelled entirely in +lard. Entrenched behind the battlements of the fort crowning an +eminence, Boers busied themselves with cannon whose aim was carefully +directed towards the admiring spectators outside the window, not at the +British troops who were essaying to scale the greasy slopes. Half way up +the hill, a miniature train appeared from time to time issuing from an +absolutely irrelevant tunnel, and, progressing at the rate of quite a +mile an hour, crawled into the corresponding tunnel on the other side. +At the base of the hill British soldiers, who seemed quite cognisant of +the utter futility of the Boer gunnery, were complacently driving off +cattle. Captious critics might have taken exception to the fact that the +waxen camellias adorning the hill were nearly as big as the battlements, +and considerably larger than the engine of the train. But fortunately +detractors were absent, and such trifling discrepancies did not lessen +the genuine delight afforded the spectators by this unique design which, +as a card proudly informed the world, was entirely the work of the +employes of the firm. + +It was in a patisserie in the Rue de la Paroisse that we noticed an +uninviting compound labelled "Pudding Anglais, 2 fr. 1/2 kilo." A little +thought led us to recognise in this amalgamation a travesty of our old +friend plum-pudding; but so revolting was its dark, bilious-looking +exterior that we felt its claim to be accounted a compatriot almost +insulting. And it was with secret gratification that towards the close +of January we saw the same stolid, unhappy blocks awaiting purchasers. + +[Illustration: The Mill] + +The presence of the customary Tuesday market kept the streets busy till +noon. But when the square was again empty of sellers and buyers +Versailles relapsed into quietude. I wonder if any other town of its +size is as silent as Versailles. There is little horse-traffic. Save for +the weird, dirge-like drone of the electric cars, which seems in perfect +consonance with the tone of sadness pervading the old town whose glory +has departed, the clang of the wooden shoes on the rough pavement, and +the infrequent beat of hoofs as a detachment of cavalry moves by, +unnatural stillness seems to prevail. + +Of street music there was none, though once an old couple wailing a +plaintive duet passed under our windows. Britain is not esteemed a +melodious nation, yet the unclassical piano is ever with us, and even in +the smallest provincial towns one is rarely out of hearing of the +insistent note of some itinerant musician. And no matter how far one +penetrates into the recesses of the country, he is always within reach +of some bucolic rendering of the popular music-hall ditty of the year +before last. But never during our stay in Versailles, a stay that +included what is supposedly the gay time of the year, did we hear the +sound of an instrument, or--with the one exception of the old couple, +whom it would be rank flattery to term vocalists--the note of a voice +raised in song. + +With us, New Year's Day was a quiet one. A dozen miles distant, Paris +was welcoming the advent of the new century in a burst of feverish +excitement. But despite temptations, we remained in drowsy Versailles, +and spent several of the hours in the little room where two pallid +Red-Cross knights, who were celebrating the occasion by sitting up for +the first time, waited expectant of our coming as their one link with +the outside world. + +[Illustration: The Presbytery] + +It was with a sincere thrill of pity that at _dejeuner_ we glanced round +the _salle-a-manger_ and found all the Ogams filling their accustomed +solitary places. Only Dunois the comparatively young, and presumably +brave, was absent. The others occupied their usual seats, eating with +their unfailing air of introspective absorption. Nobody had cared enough +for these lonely old men to ask them to fill a corner at their tables, +even on New Year's Day. To judge by their regular attendance at the +hotel meals, these men--all of whom, as shown by their wearing the red +ribbon of the Legion of Honour, had merited distinction--had little +hospitality offered them. Most probably they offered as little, for, +throughout our stay, none ever had a friend to share his breakfast or +dinner. + +The bearing of the hotel guests suggested absolute ignorance of one +another's existence. The Colonels, as I have said in a previous chapter, +were exceptions, but even they held intercourse only without the hotel +walls. Day after day, month after month, year after year as we were +told, these men had fed together, yet we never saw them betray even the +most cursory interest in one another. They entered and departed without +revealing, by word or look, cognisance of another human being's +presence. Could one imagine a dozen men of any other nationality thus +maintaining the same indifference over even a short period? I hope +future experience will prove me wrong, but in the meantime my former +conception of the French as a nation overflowing with _bonhomie_ and +_camaraderie_ is rudely shaken. + +The day of the year would have passed without anything to distinguish it +from its fellows had not the proprietor, who, by the way, was a Swiss, +endeavoured by sundry little attentions to reveal his goodwill. Oysters +usurped the place of the customary _hors d'oeuvres_ at breakfast, and +the meal ended with _cafe noir_ and cognac handed round by the +deferential Iorson as being "offered by the proprietor," who, entering +during the progress of the _dejeuner_, paid his personal respects to his +_clientele_. + +The afternoon brought us a charming discovery. We had a boy guest with +us at luncheon, a lonely boy left at school when his few +compatriots--save only the two Red-Cross prisoners--had gone home on +holiday. The day was bright and balmy; and while strolling in the park +beyond the Petit Trianon, we stumbled by accident upon the _hameau_, the +little village of counterfeit rusticity wherein Marie Antoinette loved +to play at country life. + +Following a squirrel that sported among the trees, we had strayed from +the beaten track, when, through the leafless branches, we caught sight +of roofs and houses and, wandering towards them, found ourselves by the +side of a miniature lake, round whose margin were grouped the daintiest +rural cottages that monarch could desire or Court architect design. + +History had told us of the creation of this unique plaything of the +capricious Queen, but we had thought of it as a thing of the past, a toy +whose fragile beauty had been wrecked by the rude blows of the +Revolution. The matter-of-fact and unromantic Baedeker, it is true, gives +it half a line. After devoting pages to the Chateau, its grounds, +pictures, and statues, and detailing exhaustively the riches of the +Trianons, he blandly mentions the gardens of the Petit Trianon as +containing "some fine exotic trees, an artificial lake, a Temple of +Love, and a hamlet where the Court ladies played at peasant life." + +It is doubtful whether ten out of every hundred tourists who, Baedeker +in hand, wander conscientiously over the grand Chateau--Palace, alas! no +longer--ever notice the concluding words, or, reading its lukewarm +recommendation, deem the hamlet worthy of a visit. The Chateau is an +immense building crammed with artistic achievements, and by the time the +sightseer of ordinary capacity has seen a tenth of the pictures, a third +of the sculpture, and a half of the fountains, his endurance, if not all +his patience, is exhausted. + +I must acknowledge that we, too, had visited Versailles without +discovering that the _hameau_ still existed; so to chance upon it in the +sunset glow of that winter evening seemed to carry us back to the time +when the storm-cloud of the Revolution was yet no larger than a man's +hand; to the day when Louis XVI., making for once a graceful speech, +presented the site to his wife, saying: "You love flowers. Ah! well, I +have a bouquet for you--the Petit Trianon." And his Queen, weary of the +restrictions of Court ceremony--though it must be admitted that the +willful Marie Antoinette ever declined to be hampered by +convention--experiencing in her residence in the little house freedom +from etiquette, pursued the novel pleasure to its furthest by commanding +the erection in its grounds of a village wherein she might the better +indulge her newly fledged fancy for make-believe rusticity. + +About the pillars supporting the verandah-roof of the chief cottage and +that of the wide balcony above, roses and vines twined lovingly. And +though it was the first day of January, the rose foliage was yet green +and bunches of shrivelled grapes clung to the vines. It was lovely then; +yet a day or two later, when a heavy snowfall had cast a white mantle +over the village, and the little lake was frozen hard, the scene seemed +still more beautiful in its ghostly purity. + +At first sight there was no sign of decay about the long-deserted +hamlet. The windows were closed, but had it been early morning, one +could easily have imagined that the pseudo villagers were asleep behind +the shuttered casements, and that soon the Queen, in some charming +_deshabille_, would come out to breathe the sweet morning air and to +inhale the perfume of the climbing roses on the balcony overlooking the +lake, wherein gold-fish darted to and fro among the water-lilies; or +expect to see the King, from the steps of the little mill where he +lodged, exchange blithe greetings with the maids of honour as they +tripped gaily to the _laiterie_ to play at butter-making, or sauntered +across the rustic bridge on their way to gather new-laid eggs at the +farm. + +The sunset glamour had faded and the premature dusk of mid-winter was +falling as, approaching nearer, we saw where the roof-thatch had +decayed, where the insidious finger of Time had crumbled the stone +walls. A chilly wind arising, moaned through the naked trees. The shadow +of the guillotine seemed to brood oppressively over the scene, and, +shuddering, we hastened away. + + + + +[Illustration: To the Place of Rest] + +CHAPTER VI + +ICE-BOUND + + +Even in the last days of December rosebuds had been trying to open on +the standard bushes in the sheltered rose-garden of the Palace. But with +the early nights of January a sudden frost seized the town in its icy +grip, and, almost before we had time to realise the change of weather, +pipes were frozen and hot-water bottles of strange design made their +appearance in the upper corridors of the hotel. The naked cherubs in the +park basins stood knee-deep in ice, skaters skimmed the smooth surface +of the canal beyond the _tapis vert_, and in a twinkling Versailles +became a town peopled by gnomes and brownies whose faces peeped quaintly +from within conical hoods. + +Soldiers drew their cloak-hoods over their uniform caps. Postmen went +their rounds thus snugly protected from the weather. The doddering old +scavengers, plying their brooms among the great trees of the avenues, +bore so strong a resemblance to the pixies who lurk in caves and woods, +that we almost expected to see them vanish into some crevice in the +gnarled roots of the trunks. Even the tiny acolytes trotting gravely in +the funeral processions had their heads and shoulders shrouded in the +prevailing hooded capes. + +[Illustration: While the Frost Holds] + +To us, accustomed though we were to an inclement winter climate, the +chill seemed intense. So frigid was the atmosphere that the first step +taken from the heated hotel hall into the outer air felt like putting +one's face against an iceberg. All wraps of ordinary thickness appeared +incapable of excluding the cold, and I sincerely envied the countless +wearers of the dominant Capuchin cloaks. + +[Illustration: The Postman's Wrap] + +Our room was many-windowed, and no matter how high Karl piled the logs, +nor how close we sat to the flames, our backs never felt really warm. It +was only when night had fallen and the outside shutters were firmly +closed that the thermometer suspended near the chimney-piece grudgingly +consented to record temperate heat. + +[Illustration: A Lapful of Warmth] + +But there was at least one snug chamber in Versailles, and that was the +room of the Red-Cross prisoners. However extravagant the degrees of +frost registered without, the boys' sick-room was always pleasantly +warm. How the good Soeur, who was on duty all day, managed to regulate +the heat throughout the night-watches was her secret. A half-waking boy +might catch a glimpse of her, apparently robed as by day, stealing out +of the room; but so noiseless were her movements, that neither of the +invalids ever saw her stealing in. They had a secret theory that in her +own little apartment, which was just beyond theirs, the Soeur, garbed, +hooded, and wearing rosary and the knotted rope of her Order, passed her +nights in devotion. Certain it was that even the most glacial of +weathers did not once avail to prevent her attending the Mass that was +held at Notre Dame each morning before daybreak. + +[Illustration: The Daily Round] + +Frost-flowers dulled the inner glories of the shop windows with their +unwelcome decoration. Even in the square on market mornings business +flagged. The country folks, chilled by their cold drive to town, +cowered, muffled in thick wraps, over their little charcoal stoves, +lacking energy to call attention to their wares. The sage with the +onions was absent, but the pretty girl in the red hood held her +accustomed place, warming mittened fingers at a chaufferette which she +held on her lap. The only person who gave no outward sign of misery was +the boulangere who, harnessed to her heavy hand-cart, toiled +unflinchingly on her rounds. + +In the streets the comely little _bourgeoises_ hid their plump shoulders +under ugly black knitted capes, and concealed their neat hands in clumsy +worsted gloves. But despite the rigour of the atmosphere their heads, +with the hair neatly dressed _a la Chinoise_, remained uncovered. It +struck our unaccustomed eyes oddly to see these girls thus exposed, +standing on the pavement in the teeth of some icy blast, talking to +stalwart soldier friends, whose noses were their only visible feature. + +[Illustration: Three Babes and a Bonne] + +The ladies of Versailles give a thought to their waists, but they leave +their ankles to Providence, and any one having experience of Versailles +winter streets can fully sympathise with their trust; for even in dry +sunny weather mud seems a spontaneous production that renders goloshes a +necessity. And when frost holds the high-standing city in its frigid +grasp the extreme cold forbids any idea of coquetry, and thickly lined +boots with cloth uppers--a species of foot-gear that in grace of outline +is decidedly suggestive of "arctics"--become the only comfortable wear. + +[Illustration: Snow in the Park] + +After a few days of thought-congealing cold--a cold so intense that +sundry country people who had left their homes before dawn to drive into +Paris with farm produce were taken dead from their market-carts at the +end of the journey--the weather mercifully changed. A heavy snowfall now +tempered the inclement air, and turned the leafless park into a fairy +vision. + +The nights were still cold, but during the day the sun glinted warmly on +the frozen waters of the gilded fountains and sparkled on the facets of +the crisp snow. The marble benches in the sheltered nooks of the snug +Chateau gardens were occupied by little groups, which usually consisted +of a _bonne_ and a baby, or of a chevalier and a hopelessly unclassable +dog; for the dogs of Versailles belong to breeds that no man living +could classify, the most prevalent type in clumsiness of contour and +astonishing shagginess of coat resembling nothing more natural than +those human travesties of the canine race familiar to us in pantomime. + +Along the snow-covered paths under the leafless trees, on whose branches +close-wreathed mistletoe hangs like rooks' nests, the statues stood like +guardian angels of the scene. They had lost their air of aloofness and +were at one with the white earth, just as the forest trees in their +autumn dress of brown and russet appear more in unison with their parent +soil than when decked in their bravery of summer greenery. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +THE HAUNTED CHATEAU + + +[Illustration: A Veteran of the Chateau] + +The Chateau of Versailles, like the town, dozes through the winter, only +half awakening on Sunday afternoons when the townsfolk make it their +meeting-place. Then conscripts, in clumsy, ill-fitting uniforms, tread +noisily over the shining _parqueterie_ floors, and burgesses gossip +amicably in the dazzling _Galerie des Glaces_, where each morning +courtiers were wont to await the uprising of their king. But on the +weekdays visitors are of the rarest. Sometimes a few half-frozen people +who have rashly automobiled thither from Paris alight at the Chateau +gates, and take a hurried walk through the empty galleries to restore +the circulation to their stiffened limbs before venturing to set forth +on the return journey. + +Every weekday in the Place d'Armes, squads of conscripts are busily +drilling, running hither and thither with unflagging energy, and the air +resounds with the hoarse staccato cries of "Un! Deux! Trois!" wherewith +they accompany their movements, cries that, heard from a short distance, +exactly resemble the harsh barking of a legion of dogs. + +[Illustration: Un--Deux--Trois] + +Within the gates there is a sense of leisure: even the officials have +ceased to anticipate visitors. In the _Cour Royale_ two little girls +have cajoled an old guide into playing a game of ball. A custodian dozes +by the great log fire in the bedroom of Louis XIV., where the warm +firelight playing on the rich trappings lends such an air of occupation +to the chamber, that--forgetting how time has turned to grey the once +white ostrich plumes adorning the canopy of the bed, and that the +priceless lace coverlet would probably fall to pieces at a touch--one +almost expects the door to open for the entrance of Louis le Grand +himself. + +To this room he came when he built the Palace wherein to hide from that +grim summons with which the tower of the Royal sepulture of St. Denis, +visible from his former residence, seemed to threaten him. And here it +was that Death, after long seeking, found him. We can see the little +great-grandson who was to succeed, lifted on to the bed of the dying +monarch. + +[Illustration: The Bedchamber of Louis XIV] + +"What is your name, my child?" asks the King. + +"Louis XV;" replies the infant, taking brevet-rank. And nearly sixty +years later we see the child, his wasted life at an end, dying of +virulent smallpox under the same roof, deserted by all save his devoted +daughters. + +To me the Palace of Versailles is peopled by the ghosts of many women. A +few of them are dowdy and good, but by far the greater number are +graceful and wicked. How infinitely easier it is to make a good bad +reputation than to achieve even a bad good one! "Tell us stories about +naughty children," we used to beseech our nurses. And as our years +increase we still yawn over the doings of the righteous, while our +interest in the ways of transgressors only strengthens. + +We all know by heart the romantic lives of the shrinking La Valliere, of +Madame de Montespan the impassioned, of sleek Madame de Maintenon--the +trio of beauties honoured by the admiration of Louis le Grand; and of +the bevy of favourites of Louis XV, the three fair and short-lived +sisters de Mailly-Nesle, the frail Pompadour who mingled scheming with +debauchery, and the fascinating but irresponsible Du Barry. Even the most +minute details of Marie Antoinette's tragic career are fresh in our +memories, but which of us can remember the part in the history of France +played by Marie Leczinska? Yet, apart from her claim to notability as +having been the last queen who ended her days on the French throne, her +story is full of romantic interest. + +Thrusting aside the flimsy veil of Time, we find Marie Leczinska the +penniless daughter of an exiled Polish king who is living in retirement +in a dilapidated commandatory at a little town in Alsace. It is easy to +picture the shabby room wherein the unforeseeing Marie sits content +between her mother and grandmother, all three diligently broidering +altar cloths. Upon the peaceful scene the father enters, overcome by +emotion, trembling. His face announces great news, before he can school +his voice to speak. + +"Why, father! Have you been recalled to the throne of Poland?" asks +Marie, and the naive question reveals that many years of banishment have +not quenched in the hearts of the exiles the hope of a return to their +beloved Poland. + +"No, my daughter, but you are to be Queen of France," replies the +father. "Let us thank God." + +[Illustration: Marie Leczinska] + +Knowing the sequel, one wonders if it was for a blessing or a curse that +the refugees, kneeling in that meagre room in the old house at +Wissenberg, returned thanks. + +Certain it is that the ministers of the boy-monarch were actuated more +by a craving to further their own ends than either by the desire to +please God or to honour their King, in selecting this obscure maiden +from the list of ninety-nine marriageable princesses that had been drawn +up at Versailles. A dowerless damsel possessed of no influential +relatives is not in a position to be exacting, and, whate'er befell, +poor outlawed Stanislas Poniatowski could not have taken up arms in +defence of his daughter. + +Having a sincere regard for unaffected Marie Leczinska, I regret being +obliged to admit that, even in youth, "comely" was the most effusive +adjective that could veraciously be awarded her. And it is only in the +lowest of whispers that I will admit that she was seven years older than +her handsome husband, whose years did not then number seventeen. Yet is +there indubitable charm in the simple grace wherewith Marie accepted her +marvellous transformation from pauper to queen. She disarmed criticism +by refusing to conceal her former poverty. "This is the first time in my +life I have been able to make presents," she frankly told the ladies of +the Court, as she distributed among them her newly got trinkets. + +It is pleasant to remember that the early years of her wedded life +passed harmoniously. Louis, though never passionately enamoured of his +wife, yet loved her with the warm affection a young man bestows on the +first woman he has possessed. And that Marie was wholly content there is +little doubt. She was no gadabout. Versailles satisfied her. Three years +passed before she visited Paris, and then the visit was more of the +nature of a pilgrimage than of a State progress. Twin daughters had +blessed the union, and the Queen journeyed to the churches of Notre Dame +and Saint Genevieve to crave from Heaven the boon of a Dauphin: a prayer +which a year later was answered. + +But clouds were gathering apace. As he grew into manhood the domestic +virtues palled upon Louis. He tired of the needlework which, doubtless, +Marie's skilled hands had taught him. We recall how, sitting between her +mother and grandmother, the future Queen had broidered altar cloths. +Marie Leczinska was an adoring mother; possibly her devotion to their +rapidly increasing family wearied him. Being little more than a child +himself, the King is scarcely likely to have found the infantile society +so engaging as did the mother. Thus began that series of foolish +infidelities that, characterised by extreme timidity and secrecy at +first, was latterly flaunted in the face of the world. + +Marie's life was not a smooth one, but it was happier than that of her +Royal spouse. To me there is nothing sadder, nothing more sordid in +history, than the feeble, useless existence of Louis XV., whose early +years promised so well. It is pitiful to look at the magnificent +portrait, still hanging in the palace where he reigned, of the +child-king seated in his robes of State, the sceptre in his hand, +looking with eyes of innocent wonder into the future, then to think upon +the depth of degradation reached by the once revered Monarch before his +body was dragged in dishonour and darkness to its last resting-place. + +[Illustration: Madame Adelaide] + +Pleasanter figures that haunt the Chateau are those of the six pretty +daughters of Louis and Marie Leczinska. There are the ill-starred twins, +Elizabeth and Henrietta: Madame Elizabeth, who never lost the love of +her old home, and, though married, before entering her teens, to the +Infanta of Spain, retired, after a life of disappointment, to her +beloved Versailles to die; and the gentle Henrietta who, cherishing an +unlucky passion for the young Duc de Chartres, pined quietly away after +witnessing her lover wed to another. + +Then there is Adelaide, whom Nattier loved to paint, portraying her +sometimes as a lightly clad goddess, sometimes sitting demurely in a +pretty frock. Good Nattier! there is a later portrait of himself in +complacent middle age surrounded by his wife and children; but I like to +think that, when he spent so many days at the Palace painting the young +Princess, some tenderer influence than mere artistic skill lent cunning +to his brush. + +When the daughters of Louis XV. were sent to be educated at a convent, +Adelaide it was who, by tearful protest to her royal father, gained +permission to remain at the Palace while her sisters meekly endured +their banishment. From this instance of childish character one would +have anticipated a career for Madame Adelaide, and I hate being obliged +to think of her merely developing into one of the three spinster aunts +of Louis XVI. who, residing under the same roof, turned coldly +disapproving eyes upon the manifold frailties of their niece, Marie +Antoinette. + +The sisters Victoire and Sophie are faint shades leaving no impression +on the memory; but there is another spirit, clad in the sombre garb of a +Carmelite nun, who, standing aloof, looks with the calm eyes of peace on +the motley throng. It is Louise, the youngest sister of all, who, deeply +grieved by her father's infatuation for the Du Barry--an infatuation +which, beginning within a month of Marie Leczinska's decease, ended only +when on his deathbed the dying Monarch prepared to receive absolution by +bidding his inamorata farewell--resolved to flee her profligate +surroundings and devote her life to holiness. + +It is affecting to think of the gentle Louise, secretly anticipating the +rigours of convent life, torturing her delicate skin by wearing coarse +serge, and burning tallow candles in her chamber to accustom herself to +their detestable odour. + +Her father's consent gained, Louise still tarried at Versailles. Perhaps +the King's daughter shrank from voluntarily beginning a life of +imprisoned drudgery. We know that at this period she passed many hours +reading contemporary history, knowing that, once within the convent +walls, the study of none but sacred literature would be permitted. + +Then came an April morning when Louise, who had kept her intention +secret from all save her father, left the Palace never to return. +France, in a state of joyous excitement, was eagerly anticipating the +arrival of Marie Antoinette, who was setting forth on the first stage of +that triumphal journey which had so tragic an ending. Already the gay +clamour of wedding-bells filled the air; and Louise may have feared +that, did she linger at Versailles, the enticing vanities of the world +might change the current of her thoughts. + +Chief among the impalpable throng that people the state galleries is +Marie Antoinette, and her spirit shows us many faces. It is charming, +haughty, considerate, headstrong, frivolous, thoughtful, degraded, +dignified, in quick succession. We see her arrive at the Palace amid the +tumultuous adoration of the crowd, and leave amidst its execrations. +Sometimes she is richly apparelled, as befits a queen; anon she sports +the motley trappings of a mountebank. The courtyard that saw the +departure of Madame Louise witnesses Marie Antoinette, returning at +daybreak in company with her brother-in-law from some festivity +unbecoming a queen, refused admittance by the King's express command. + +[Illustration: Louis Quatorze] + +Many of the attendant spirits who haunt Marie Antoinette's ghostly +footsteps as they haunted her earthly ones are malefic. Most are women, +and all are young and fair. There is Madame Roland, who, taken as a +young girl to the Palace to peep at the Royalties, became imbued by that +jealous hatred which only the Queen's death could appease. + +"If I stay here much longer," she told that kindly mother who sought to +give her a treat by showing her Court life, "I shall detest these people +so much that I shall be unable to hide my hatred." + +It is easy to fancy the girl's evil face scowling at the unconscious +Queen, before she leaves to pen those inflammatory pamphlets which are +to prove the Sovereign's undoing and her own. For by some whim of fate +Madame Roland was executed on the very scaffold to which her envenomed +writings had driven Marie Antoinette. + +A spectre that impresses as wearing rags under a gorgeous robe, lurks +among the foliage of the quiet _bosquet_ beyond the orangerie. It is the +infamous Madame de la Motte, chief of adventuresses, and it was in that +secluded grove that her tool, Cardinal de Rohan, had his pretended +interview with the Queen. Poor, perfidious Contesse! what an existence +of alternate beggarly poverty and beggarly riches was hers before that +last scene of all when she lay broken and bruised almost beyond human +semblance in that dingy London courtyard beneath the window from which, +in a mad attempt to escape arrest, she had thrown herself. + +Through the Royal salons flits a presence whereat the shades of the +Royal Princesses look askance: that of the frolicsome, good-natured, +irresponsible Du Barry. A soulless ephemera she, with no ambitions or +aspirations, save that, having quitted the grub stage, she desires to be +as brilliant a butterfly as possible. Close in attendance on her moves +an ebon shadow--Zamora, the ingrate foundling who, reared by the +Duchesse, swore that he would make his benefactress ascend the scaffold, +and kept his oath. For our last sight of the prodigal, warm-hearted Du +Barry, plaything of the aged King, is on the guillotine, where in +agonies of terror she fruitlessly appeals to her executioner's clemency. + +But of all the bygone dames who haunt the grand Chateau, the only one I +detest is probably the most irreproachable of all--Madame de Maintenon. +There is something so repulsively sanctimonious in her aspect, something +so crafty in the method wherewith, under the cloak of religion, she +wormed her way into high places, ousting--always in the name of +propriety--those who had helped her. Her stepping-stone to Royal favour +was handsome, impetuous Madame de Montespan, who, taking compassion on +her widowed poverty, appointed Madame Scarron, as she then was, +governess of her children, only to find her _protegee_ usurp her place +both in the honours of the King and in the affections of their children. + +The natural heart rebels against the "unco guid," and Madame de +Maintenon, with her smooth expression, double chin, sober garments and +ever-present symbols of piety, revolts me. I know it is wrong. I know +that historians laud her for the wholesome influence she exercised upon +the mind of a king who had grown timorous with years; that the dying +Queen declared that she owed the King's kindness to her during the last +twenty years of her life entirely to Madame de Maintenon. But we know +also that six months after the Queen's death an unwonted light showed at +midnight in the Chapel Royal, where Madame de Maintenon--the child of a +prison cell--was becoming the legal though unacknowledged wife of Louis +XIV. The impassioned, uncalculating de Montespan had given the handsome +Monarch her all without stipulation. Truly the career of Madame de +Maintenon was a triumph of virtue over vice; and yet of all that +heedless, wanton throng, my soul detests only her. + + + + +[Illustration: Where the Queen Played] + +CHAPTER VIII + +MARIE ANTOINETTE + + +Stereotyped sights are rarely the most engrossing. At the Palace of +Versailles the _petits appartements de la Reine_, those tiny rooms whose +grey old-world furniture might have been in use yesterday, to me hold +more actuality than all the regal salons in whose vast emptiness +footsteps reverberate like echoes from the past. + +In the pretty sitting-room the coverings to-day are a reproduction of +the same pale blue satin that draped the furniture in the days when +queens preferred the snug seclusion of those dainty rooms overlooking +the dank inner courtyard to the frigid grandeur of their State chambers. +Therein it was that Marie Leczinska was wont to instruct her young +daughters in the virtues as she had known them in her girlhood's +thread-bare home, not as her residence at the profligate French Court +had taught her to understand them. + +[Illustration: Marie Antoinette] + +The heavy gilt bolts bearing the interlaced initials M.A. remind us that +these, too, were the favourite rooms of Marie Antoinette, and that in +all probability the cunningly entwined bolts were the handiwork of her +honest spouse, who wrought at his blacksmith forge below while his wife +flirted above. But in truth the _petits appartements_ are instinct with +memories of Marie Antoinette, and it is difficult to think of any save +only her occupying them. The beautiful _coffre_ presented to her with +the layette of the Dauphin still stands on a table in an adjoining +chamber, and the paintings on its white silk casing are scarcely faded +yet, though the decorative ruching of green silk leaves has long ago +fallen into decay. + +A step farther is the little white and gold boudoir which still holds +the mirror that gave the haughty Queen her first premonition of the +catastrophe that awaited her. Viewed casually the triple mirror, lining +an alcove wherein stands a couch garlanded with flowers, betrays no +sinister qualities. But any visitor who approaches looking at his +reflection where at the left the side panels meet the angle of the wall, +will be greeted by a sight similar to that whose tragic suggestion made +even the haughty Queen pause a moment in her reckless career. For in the +innocent appearing mirrors the gazer is reflected without a head. + +It was through this liliputian suite, this strip of homeliness so +artfully introduced into a palace, that Marie Antoinette fled on that +fateful August morning when the mob of infuriated women invaded the +Chateau. + +Knowing this, I was puzzling over the transparent fact that either of +the apparent exits would have led her directly into the hands of the +enemy, when the idea of a secret staircase suggested itself. A little +judicious inquiry elicited the information that one did exist. "But it +is not seen. It is locked. To view it, an order from the +Commissary--that is necessary," explained the old guide. + +To know that a secret staircase, and one of such vivid historical +importance, was at hand, and not to have seen it would have been too +tantalising. The "Commissary" was an unknown quantity, and for a space +it seemed as though our desire would be ungratified. Happily the +knowledge of our interest awoke a kindly reciprocity in our guide, who, +hurrying off, quickly returned with the venerable custodian of the key. +A moment later, the unobtrusive panel that concealed the exit flew open +at its touch, and the secret staircase, dark, narrow, and hoary with the +dust of years, lay before us. + +[Illustration: The Secret Stair] + +Many must have been the romantic meetings aided by those diminutive +steps, but, peering into their shadows, we saw nothing but a vision of +Marie Antoinette, half clad in dishevelled wrappings of petticoat and +shawl, flying distracted from the vengeance of the furies through the +refuge of the low-roofed stairway. + +In my ingenuous youth, when studying French history, I evolved a theory +which seemed, to myself at least, to account satisfactorily for the +radical differences distinguishing Louis XVI. from his brothers and +antecedents. Finding that, when a delicate infant, he had been sent to +the country to nurse, I rushed to the conclusion that the royal infant +had died, and that his foster-mother, fearful of the consequences, had +substituted a child of her own in his place. The literature of the +nursery is full of instances that seemed to suggest the probability of +my conjecture being correct. + +As a youth, Louis had proved himself both awkward and clumsy. He was +loutish, silent in company, ill at ease in his princely surroundings, +and in all respects unlike his younger brothers. He was honest, sincere, +pious, a faithful husband, a devoted father; amply endowed, indeed, with +the middle-class virtues which at that period were but rarely found in +palaces. To my childish reasoning the most convincing proof lay in his +innate craving for physical labour; a craving that no ridicule could +dispel. + +With the romantic enthusiasm of youth, I used to fancy the peasant +mother stealing into the Palace among the spectators who daily were +permitted to view the royal couple at dinner, and imagine her, having +seen the King, depart glorying secretly in the strategy that had raised +her son to so high an estate. There was another picture, in whose +dramatic misery I used to revel. It showed the unknown mother, who had +discovered that by her own act she had condemned her innocent son to +suffer for the sins of past generations of royal profligates, journeying +to Paris (in my dreams she always wore sabots and walked the entire +distance in a state of extreme physical exhaustion) with the intention +of preventing his execution by declaring his lowly parentage to the mob. +The final tableau revealed her, footsore and weary, reaching within +sight of the guillotine just in time to see the executioner holding up +her son's severed head. I think my imaginary heroine died of a broken +heart at this juncture, a catastrophe that would naturally account for +her secret dying with her. + +[Illustration: Madame Sans Tete] + +During our winter stay at Versailles, my childish phantasies recurred to +me, and I almost found them feasible. What an amazing irony of fate it +would have shown had a son of the soil expired to expiate the crimes of +sovereigns! + +But more pitiful by far than the saddest of illusions is the sordid +reality of a scene indelibly imprinted on my mental vision. Memory takes +me back to the twilight of a spring Sunday several years ago, when in +the wake of a cluster of market folks we wandered into the old Cathedral +of St. Denis. Deep in the sombre shadows of the crypt a light gleamed +faintly through a narrow slit in the stone wall. Approaching, we looked +into a gloomy vault wherein, just visible by the ray of a solitary +candle, lay two zinc coffins. + +Earth holds no more dismal sepulchre than that dark vault, through the +crevice in whose wall the blue-bloused marketers cast curious glances. +Yet within these grim coffins lie two bodies with their severed heads, +all that remains mortal of the haughty Marie Antoinette and other humble +spouse. + + + + +[Illustration: Illumination] + +CHAPTER IX + +THE PRISONERS RELEASED + + +The first dread days, when the Boy, heavy with fever, seemed scarcely to +realise our presence, were swiftly followed by placid hours when he lay +and smiled in blissful content, craving nothing, now that we were all +together again. But this state of beatitude was quickly ousted by a +period of discontent, when the hunger fiend reigned supreme in the +little room. + +"_Manger, manger, manger, tout le temps!"_ Thus the nurse epitomised the +converse of her charges. And indeed she was right, for, from morning +till night, the prisoners' solitary topic of conversation was food. +During the first ten days their diet consisted solely of boiled milk, +and as that time wore to a close the number of quarts consumed increased +daily, until Paul, the chief porter, seemed ever ascending the little +outside stair carrying full bottles of milk, or descending laden with +empty ones. + +"Milk doesn't count. When shall we be allowed food, _real_ food?" was +the constant cry, and their relief was abounding when, on Christmas Day, +the doctor withdrew his prohibition, and permitted an approach to the +desired solids. But even then the prisoners, to their loudly voiced +disappointment, discovered that their only choice lay between vermicelli +and tapioca, nursery dishes which at home they would have despised. + +"_Tapioca!_ Imagine tapioca for a Christmas dinner!" the invalids +exclaimed with disgust. But that scorn did not prevent them devouring +the mess and eagerly demanding more. And thereafter the saucepan +simmering over the gas-jet in the outer room seemed ever full of savoury +spoon-meat. + +I doubt if any zealous mother-bird ever had a busier time feeding her +fledglings than had the good Sister in satisfying the appetites of these +callow cormorants. To witness the French nun seeking to allay the hunger +of these voracious schoolboy aliens was to picture a wren trying to fill +the ever-gaping beaks of two young cuckoos whom an adverse fate had +dropped into her nest. + +As the days wore by, the embargo placed upon our desire to cater for the +invalids was gradually lifted, and little things such as sponge biscuits +and pears crept in to vary the monotony of the milk diet. + +New Year's Day held a tangible excitement, for that morning saw a +modified return to ordinary food, and, in place of bottles of milk, +Paul's load consisted of such tempting selections from the school meals +as were deemed desirable for the invalids. Poultry not being included in +the school menus, we raided a cooked-provision shop and carried off a +plump, well-browned chicken. The approbation which met this venture +resulted in our supplying a succession of _poulettes_, which, at the +invalids' express desire, were smuggled into their room under my cloak. +Not that there was the most remote necessity for concealment, but the +invalids, whose sole interest centred in food, laboured under the absurd +idea that, did the authorities know they were being supplied from +without, their regular meals would be curtailed to prevent them +over-eating. + +The point of interest, for the Red-Cross prisoners at least, in our +morning visits lay in the unveiling of the eatables we had brought. +School food, however well arranged, is necessarily stereotyped, and the +element of the unknown ever lurked in our packages. The sugar-sticks, +chocolates, fruit, little cakes, or what we had chanced to bring, were +carefully examined, criticised, and promptly devoured. + +A slight refreshment was served them during our short stay, and when we +departed we left them eagerly anticipating luncheon. At gloaming, when +we returned, it was to find them busy with half-yards of the long crusty +loaves, plates of jelly, and tumblers, filled with milk on our Boy's +part, and with well diluted wine on that of his fellow sufferer. + +Fear of starvation being momentarily averted, the Soeur used to light +fresh candles around the tiny Holy _Bebe_ on the still green +Christmas-tree, and for a space we sat quietly enjoying the radiance. +But by the time the last candle had flickered out, and the glow of a +commonplace paraffin lamp lighted the gloom, nature again demanded +nourishment; and we bade the prisoners farewell for the night, happy in +the knowledge that supper, sleep, and breakfast would pleasantly while +away the hours till our return. + +The elder Red-Cross knight was a tall, good-looking lad of sixteen, the +age when a boy wears painfully high collars, shaves surreptitiously--and +unnecessarily--with his pen-knife, talks to his juniors about the +tobacco he smokes in a week, and cherishes an undying passion for a +maiden older than himself. He was ever an interesting study, though I do +not think I really loved him until he confided his affairs of the heart, +and entrusted me with the writing of his love-letters. I know that +behind my back he invariably referred to me as "Ma"; but as he openly +addressed the unconscious nun as "you giddy old girl," "Ma" might almost +be termed respectful, and I think our regard was mutual. + +All things come to him who waits. There came a night when for the last +time we sat together around the little tree, watching the Soeur light the +candles that illuminated the Holy _Bebe_. On the morrow the prisoners, +carefully disinfected, and bearing the order of their release in the +form of a medical certificate, would be set free. + +It clouded our gladness to know that before the patient Sister stretched +another period of isolation. Just that day another pupil had developed +scarlet fever, and only awaited our boys' departure to occupy the little +room. Hearing that this fresh prisoner lay under sentence of durance +vile, we suggested that all the toys--chiefly remnants of shattered +armies that, on hearing of the Boy's illness, we had brought from the +home playroom he had outgrown--might be left for him instead of being +sent away to be burnt. + +The Boy's bright face dulled. "If it had been anybody else! But, mother, +I don't think you know that he is the one French boy we disliked. It was +he who always shouted '_a bas les Anglais!_' in the playground." + +The reflection that for weary weeks this obnoxious boy would be the only +inmate of the _boite_, as the invalids delighted to call their +sick-room, overcame his antipathetic feeling, and he softened so far as +to indite a polite little French note offering his late enemy his +sympathy, and formally bequeathing to him the reversion of his toys, +including the _arbre de Noel_ with all its decorations, except the +little waxen Jesus nestling in the manger of yellow corn; the Soeur had +already declared her intention of preserving that among her treasures. + +The time that had opened so gloomily had passed, and now that it was +over we could look back upon many happy hours spent within the dingy +prison walls. And our thoughts were in unison, for the Boy, abruptly +breaking the silence, said: "And after all, it hasn't been such a bad +time. Do you know, I really think I've rather enjoyed it!" + + + + +L'ENVOI + + +[Illustration: L'Envoi] + +Heavy skies lowered above us, the landscape seen through the driving +mist-wreaths showed a depressing repetition of drabs and greys as we +journeyed towards Calais. But, snugly ensconced in the _train rapide_, +our hearts beat high with joy, for at last were we homeward bound. The +weeks of exile in the stately old town had ended. For the last time the +good Sister had lit us down the worn stone steps. As we sped seawards +across the bleak country, our thoughts flew back to her, and to the +little room with the red cross on its casement, wherein, although our +prisoners were released, another term of nursing had already begun for +her. In contrast with her life of cheerful self-abnegation, ours seemed +selfish, meaningless, and empty. + +Dear nameless Sister! She had been an angel of mercy to us in a +troublous time, and though our earthly paths may never again cross, our +hearts will ever hold her memory sacred. + + + + + + +_By the same Author_ + +OUR STOLEN SUMMER + +THE RECORD OF A ROUNDABOUT TOUR + +BY + +MARY STUART BOYD + +WITH ONE HUNDRED AND SEVENTY SKETCHES BY A.S. BOYD + +_Extracts from Reviews_ + +THE WORLD.--"To be able to go round the world nowadays, and write a +descriptive record of the tour that is vivid and fresh is a positive +literary feat. It has been successfully accomplished in _Our Stolen +Summer_ by Mrs. Boyd, who with no ulterior object in making a book +journeyed over four continents in company with her husband, and picked +up _en route_ matter for one of the pleasantest, most humorous, and +least pretentious books of travel we have read for many a day. It is +admirably illustrated by Mr. A.S. Boyd, whose sense of humour happily +matches that of his observant wife, and the reader who can lay aside +this picturesque and truly delightful volume without sincere regret must +have a dull and dreary mind." + +PUNCH.--"_Our Stolen Summer_ is calculated to lead to wholesale breakage +of the Eighth Commandment. Certainly, my Baronite, reading the +fascinating record of a roundabout tour, feels prompted to steal away. +Mary Stuart Boyd, who pens the record, has the great advantage of the +collaboration of A.S.B., whose signature is familiar in _Mr. Punch's_ +Picture Gallery.... A charming book." + +SPECTATOR.--"The writer, by the help of a ready pen and of the pencil of +a skilful illustrator, has given us in this handsome volume a number of +attractive pictures of distant places.... It is good to read and +pleasant to look at." + +TRUTH.--"You will find no pleasanter holiday reading than _Our Stolen +Summer_." + +ACADEMY.--"A fresh record, and worth the reading. Of such is Mrs. Boyd's +volume, which her husband has illustrated profusely with spirited line +drawings." + +FIELD.--"One of the brightest books of travel that it has been our good +fortune to read. The illustrations deserve a notice to themselves. They +are far and away better than those which we usually get in books of this +kind, and we do not know that we can bestow higher praise on them than +to say that they are worthy of the letterpress which they illustrate." + +LAND AND WATER.--"A delightful sketch of a delightful journey.... _Our +Stolen Summer_ is a book which will be read with equal delight on a lazy +summer holiday, or in the heart of London when the streets are enveloped +in fog and the rain is beating against the window panes. Mr. Boyd's +sketches are simply admirable." + +SPHERE.--"A delightful record of travel. Mrs. Boyd is never dull, and +there is plenty of acute observation throughout her pleasant story of +travel. My Boyd's illustrations which appear on practically every page, +are, it need scarcely be said, up to the high level that is already +familiar to students of his black-and-white work." + +LADIES' FIELD.--"A singularly delightful and unaffected book of travel." + +MADAME.--"One of the most delightful books of travel it has been our +good fortune to read." + +MORNING POST.--"If the encouragement of globe-trotting be a virtuous +action, then certainly Mrs. Stuart Boyd has deserved well of her +country. To read her book is to conceive an insensate desire to be off +and away on 'the long trail' at all hazards and at all costs.... Mr. +Boyd's illustrations add greatly to the interest and charm of the book. +There is movement, atmosphere, and sunshine in them." + +STANDARD.--"Mrs. Boyd went with her husband round the world, and the +latter--an artist with a sense of humour--kept his hand in practice by +making droll sketches of people encountered by the way, which heighten +the charm of his wife's vivacious description of a _Stolen Summer_. Mrs. +Boyd has quick eyes and an open mind, and writes with sense and +sensibility." + +DAILY TELEGRAPH.--"It is not so much what Mrs. Boyd has to tell as the +invariable good humour and brightness with which she records even the +most familiar things that makes the charm of her excellent diary." + +DAILY CHRONICLE.--"Mrs. Boyd has written the log with sparkle and +observation--seeing many things that the mere man-traveller would miss. +Mr. Boyd's sketches are, of course, excellent." + +PALL MALL GAZETTE.--"Mrs. Boyd writes with so much buoyancy, and her +humour is so unexpected and unfailing, that it is safe to say that there +is not a dull page from first to last in this record of a tour round the +world... Mr. A.S. Boyd's numerous illustrations show him at his very +best." + +GLOBE.--"A work to acquire as well as to peruse." + +WESTMINSTER GAZETTE.--"The narrative from beginning to end does not +contain a dull page. Of Mr. Boyd's numerous sketches it is only +necessary to say that they are excellent. Altogether _Our Stolen Summer_ +will be found to be one of the most fascinating of recent books of +travel." + +SUNDAY TIMES.--"Brilliantly and entertainingly written, and liberally +illustrated by an acknowledged master of the art of black and white." + +SCOTSMAN.--"A beautiful and fascinating book.... Pen and pencil sketches +alike have grace, nerve, and humour, and are alive with human interest +and observation." + +GLASGOW HERALD.--"One of the most delightful travel-books of recent +times.... Mrs. Boyd's volume must commend itself to people who +contemplate visiting the other side of the globe and to all stay-at-home +travellers as well." + +DAILY FREE PRESS.--"Mrs. Boyd is an admirable descriptive +writer--observant, humorous, and sympathetic. Without illustrations, +_Our Stolen Summer_ would be a notable addition to the literature of +travel; with Mr. Boyd's collaboration it is almost unique." + +LEEDS MERCURY.--"Vivacious and diverting record." + +YORKSHIRE DAILY POST.--"For such a book there could be nothing but +praise if one wrote columns about it." + +BIRMINGHAM DAILY POST.--"A singularly happy and interesting record of a +most enjoyable tour." + +NORTHERN WHIG.--"Shrewdness of observation, with not a little humour and +a real literary gift, mark the story of _Our Stolen Summer_." + +THE BOOKMAN.--"Mrs. Boyd writes with so much brightness, such vivacity +and picturesqueness of style, that although the volume runs to close +upon four hundred pages there is not a dull page among them. The success +of _Our Stolen Summer_, however, is due as much to the artist as to the +author; and praise must be equally divided. Mr. Boyd's sketches are +spirited, clever, full of humour and sympathetic observation. Without a +word of letter-press they would have formed an excellent travel-book; +taken in conjunction with Mrs. Boyd's narrative they are irresistible." + + + + +LONDON AND EDINBURGH: WILLIAM BLACKWOOD & SONS + +Illustrated by A.S. Boyd + +A LOWDEN SABBATH MORN + +BY ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON + +WITH TWENTY-SEVEN PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS BY A.S. BOYD + +_Extracts from Reviews_ + +THE TIMES.--"The characters whom Stevenson had in his mind's eye are all +cleverly pictured, and the drawings may be truthfully said to illustrate +the writer's ideas--a quality that seldom resides in illustrations.... +All are faithfully presented as only one who has known them intimately +could present them.... Mr. Boyd's talent for black-and-white work has +never found happier expression." + +MORNING POST.--"It is impossible to imagine anything more likely to +appeal to the sentiment of the Scottish people throughout the world than +this series of pictures, instinct with the spirit of their land." + +DAILY TELEGRAPH.--"One of the happiest combinations of author and artist +which has been seen of late years. Mr. Boyd has entered thoroughly into +the spirit of the lines, and his figures are instinct with graceful +humour." + +DAILY CHRONICLE.--"Mr. Boyd is to be congratulated (as R. L. S. would +assuredly have granted) upon interpreting so vividly a notable feature +in the national life of Scotland." + +ATHENAEUM.--"The task of illustrating Stevenson's verses was most +difficult, because it demands from the artist knowledge of local +circumstances and characteristic details. Mr. Boyd's success in making +us see so plainly the moods and manners of the 'restin' ploughman' while +he 'daundered' in his garden and 'raxed his limbs' is the more to be +enjoyed and praised." + +PALL MALL GAZETTE.--"Followers of the master will appreciate this +beautiful book for its accurate interpretation of the poem as well as +for its excellent drawing." + +ST. JAMES'S GAZETTE.--"There is plenty of good Scotch character in the +illustrations, and a quiet observation of the humours of a parish, with +such annals as those recorded by Gait." + +ACADEMY.--"An attractive book." + +SATURDAY REVIEW.--"In saying therefore that Mr. Boyd's +illustrations--there is a full page drawing for each verse--are not only +worthy of the poem, but actually emphasise and define its merits, we +give the book the highest possible praise. It is a volume which should +be added to the library of every collector." + +SPECTATOR.--"These illustrations to Mr. Stevenson's Scots poem are +distinctly clever, especially in their characterisation of the various +attendants at the village kirk." + +SPEAKER.--"The book presents very vividly some of the aspects (both +humorous and pathetic) of a Scottish rural lowland parish, and will +doubtless touch a chord in the heart of Scotsmen throughout the world." + +OUTLOOK.--"Many of Mr. Stevenson's admirers the world over have long +desired that such a classic poem should be faithfully and adequately +illustrated, and they will give a hearty welcome to this most handsome +quarto." + +SCOTSMAN.--"One way and another the book is wholly delightful." + +GLASGOW EVENING NEWS.--"Mr. Boyd's contributions to a volume which ought +to be popular with Scots in every part of the world, are full of pawky +humour, and their realism is so pronounced that we seem to have known +the models in the life." + +DUNDEE ADVERTISER.--"This is a volume to be treasured alike for the sake +of the poet, of the artist, and of that form of Scottish life which is +rapidly disappearing before the march of progress." + +ARBROATH HERALD.--"Mr. Boyd has represented these pictures in line +sketches, which are characterised at once by the strength and confidence +of a masterful draughtsman and the insight of a keen observer of +character, who has long been familiar with the types presented in +Stevenson's poem." + +GOOD WORDS.--"Mr. Boyd has portrayed, with here and there a happy trait +of grace or humour beyond the wording of the text, the very scene and +people. Each of the illustrations has a charm and freshness of its own." + +ART JOURNAL.--"Mr. Boyd's knowledge of Lothian peasants and their +manners is as complete as Stevenson's. His drawings place in pictorial +view the poet's thoughts, while they greatly enhance the descriptions by +emphasising what the writer rightly left vague." + +LONDON: CHATTO & WINDUS, III St. Martin's Lane + +[Illustration] + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's A Versailles Christmas-Tide, by Mary Stuart Boyd + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A VERSAILLES CHRISTMAS-TIDE *** + +***** This file should be named 10813.txt or 10813.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/0/8/1/10813/ + +Produced by Suzanne Shell, Karen Robinson, David Garcia and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team. + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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