The chateau of Chenonceaux, so greatly coveted by Catherine when she first came to France, and when it was in the possession of Diane, still remains in all the regal splendor of its past.  It lies in the lovely valley of the Cher, far from the rush and turmoil of cities and even the continuous traffic of great thoroughfares, for it is on the road to nowhere unless one is journeying crosscountry from the lower to the upper Loire.  This very isolation resulted in its being one of the few monuments spared from the furies of the Revolution, and, “half-palace and half-chateau,” it glistens with the purity of its former glory, as picturesque as ever, with turrets, spires, and roof-tops all mellowed with the ages in a most entrancing manner.

Even to-day one enters the precincts of the chateau proper over a drawbridge which spans an arm of the Loire, or rather, a moat which leads directly from the parent stream.  On the opposite side are the bridge piers supporting five arches, the work of Diane when she was the fair chatelaine of the domain.  This ingenious thought proved to be a most useful and artistic addition to the chateau.  It formed a flagged promenade, lovely in itself, and led to the southern bank of the Cher, whence one got charming vistas of the turrets and roof-tops of the chateau through the trees and the leafy avenues which converged upon the structure.

When Catherine came she did not disdain to make the best use of Diane’s innovation that suggested itself to her, which was simply to build the Long Gallery over the arches of this lovely bridge, and so make of it a veritable house over the water.  A covering was made quite as beautiful as the rest of the structure, and thus the bridge formed a spacious wing of two stories.  The first floor—­known as the Long Gallery—­was intended as a banqueting-hall, and possest four great full-length windows on either side looking up and down the stream, from which was seen—­and is to-day—­an outlook as magnificently idyllic as is possible to conceive.  Jean Goujon had designed for the ceiling one of those wonder-works for which he was famous, but if the complete plan was ever carried out, it has disappeared, for only a tiny sketch of the whole scheme remains to-day.

Catherine came in the early summer to take possession of her long-coveted domain.  Being a skilful horsewoman, she came on horseback, accompanied by a little band of feminine charmers destined to wheedle political secrets from friends and enemies alike—­a real “flying squadron of the queen,” as it was called by a contemporary.

It was a gallant company that assembled here at this time—­the young King Charles IX., the Duc de Guise, and the “two cardinals mounted on mules”—­Lorraine, a true Guise, and D’Este, newly arrived from Italy, and accompanied by the poet Tasso, wearing a “gabardine and a hood of satin.”  Catherine showed the Italian great favor, as was due a countryman, but there was another poet among them as well, Ronsard, the poet laureate of the time.  The Duc de Guise had followed in the wake of Marguerite, unbeknown to Catherine, who frowned down any possibility of an alliance between the houses of Valois and Lorraine.