slight, with bright black eyes, that it wouldn’t have seemed at all strange to see her bending over an embroidery frame like all the others.  The other three ladies were each seated at an embroidery frame in the embrasures of the windows.  I was much impressed, particularly with the large pieces of work that they were undertaking, a portiere, covers for the billiard-table, bed, etc.  It quite recalled what one had always read of feudal France, when the seigneur would be off with his retainers hunting or fighting, and the chatelaine, left alone in the chateau, spent her time in her “bower” surrounded by her maidens, all working at the wonderful tapestries one sees still in some of the old churches and convents.  I was never much given to work, but I made a mental resolve that I, too, would set up a frame in one of the drawing-rooms at home, and had visions of yards of pale-blue satin, all covered with wonderful flowers and animals, unrolling themselves under my skilful fingers—­but I must confess that it remained a vision.  I never got further than little crochet petticoats, which clothed every child in the village.  To make the picture complete there should have been a page in velvet cap and doublet, stretched on the floor at the feet of his mistress, trying to distract her with songs and ballads.  The master of the house, M. M., was there, having come in from shooting.  He had been reading aloud to the ladies—­Alfred de Musset, I think.  That part of the picture I could never realize, as there is nothing W. loathes like reading aloud except, perhaps, being read to.

They were very friendly and easy, showed us the downstairs part of the house, and gave us gouter, not tea, wine and cake.  The house looked comfortable enough, nothing picturesque; a large square hall with horns, whips, foxes’ brushes, antlers, and all sorts of trophies of the chase on the walls.  They are sporting people; all ride.  The dining-room, a large bright room, was panelled with life-size portraits of the family:  M. and Mme. M. in hunting dress, green coats, tricorne hats, on their horses; the daughter of the house and one of her brothers, rowing in a boat on a small lake; the eldest son in shooting dress, corduroys, his gun slung over his shoulder, his dog by his side.  They were all very like.

[Illustration:  “Merci, je vais bien.”]

We strolled about the garden a little, and saw lots of pheasants walking peacefully about at the edge of the woods.  They made me promise to come back one day with W., he to shoot and I to walk about with the ladies.  We saw the children of the fourth generation, and left with the impression of a happy, simple family party.  M. M. was a conseiller general of the Aisne and a colleague of W.’s.  They always stayed at the same hotel (de la Hure) in Laon at the time of the conseil general, and M. M. was much amused at first with W.’s baggage:  a large bath-tub, towels (for in small French provincial