We climbed, Louise and I, in spite of the steep ascent, the loose stones, over the ramparts fallen to decay, the brushwood and all sorts of obstacles, to the foot of the mass of towers built one within another, which form the donjon-keep.  Louise was obliged more than once, in scrambling up the rocks, to give me her hand and lean upon my shoulder.  Even when the way was less rugged, she did not put aside her unconstrained and confiding manner; her timid and intense reserve began to soften a little.

Madame Taverneau, who is not a sylph, hung with all her weight to Alfred’s arm, and what surprises me is that she did not pull it off.

We made our way through the under-brush, masses of rubbish and crumbling walls, to the platform of the massive keep, from whence we saw, besides the superb view, far away in the distance, Madame Taverneau’s yellow shawl, shining through the foliage like a huge beetle.

At this height, so far above the world, intoxicated by the fresh air, her cheek dyed a deeper red, her hair loosened from its severe fastenings, Louise was dazzlingly and radiantly beautiful; her bonnet had fallen off and was only held by the ribbon strings; a handful of daisies escaped from her careless grasp.

“What a pity,” said I, “that I have not a familiar spirit at my service!  We should soon see the stones replaced, the towers rise from the grass where they have slept so long, and raise their heads in the sunlight; the drawbridge slide on its hinges, and men-at-arms in dazzling cuirasses pass and repass behind the battlements.  You should sit beside me as my chatelaine, in the great hall, under a canopy emblazoned with armorial bearings, the centre of a brilliant retinue of ladies in waiting, archers and varlets.  You should be the dove of this kite’s nest!”

This fancy made her smile, and she replied:  “Instead of amusing yourself in rebuilding the past, look at the magnificent scene stretched out before you.”

In fact, the sky was gorgeous; the sun was sinking behind the horizon, in a hamlet of clouds, ruined and abandoned to the fury of the names of sunset; the darkened hills were shrouded in violet tints; through the light mists of the valley the river shone at intervals like the polished surface of a Damascus blade.  The blue smoke ascended from the chimneys of the village of Andelys, nestling at the foot of the mountain; the silvery tones of the bells ringing the Angelus came to us on the evening breeze; Venus shone soft and pure in the western sky.  Madame Taverneau had not yet joined us; Alfred’s fascinations had made her forget her companion.

Louise, uneasy at being so long separated from her chaperon, leaned over the edge of the battlement.  A stone, which only needed the weight of a tired swallow to dislodge it, rolled from Under Louise’s foot, who, terribly frightened, threw herself in my arms.  I held her for a moment pressed to my heart.  She was very pale; her head was thrown back, the dizziness of lofty heights had taken possession of her.