a priest’s vetement).  The Catholic priests have all sorts of vestments which they wear on different occasions; purple in Lent, red on any martyr’s fete, white for all the fetes of the Virgin.  Some of the churches are very rich with chasubles and altar-cloths trimmed with fine old lace, which have been given to them.  It looks funny sometimes to see a very ordinary country cure, a farmer’s son, with a heavy peasant face, wearing one of those delicate white-satin chasubles.

Before starting to join the shooters at breakfast Mme. A. took me all over the house.  It is really a beautiful establishment, very large, and most comfortable.  Quantities of pictures and engravings, and beautiful Empire furniture.  There is quite a large chapel at the end of the corridor on the ground-floor, where they have mass every Sunday.  The young couple have a charming installation, really a small house, in one of the wings—­bedrooms, dressing-rooms, boudoir, cabinet de travail, and a separate entrance—­so that M. A. can receive any one who comes to see him on business without having them pass through the chateau.  Mme. A. has her rooms on the ground-floor at the other end of the house.  Her sitting-room with glass door opens into a winter garden filled with plants, which gives on the park; her bedroom is on the other side, looking on the court-yard; a large library next it, light and space everywhere, plenty of servants, everything admirably arranged.

The evening mail goes out at 7.30, and every evening at seven exactly the letter-carrier came down the corridor knocking at all the doors and asking for letters.  He had stamps, too, at least French stamps.  I could never get a foreign stamp (twenty-five centimes)—­had to put one of fifteen and two of five when I had a foreign letter.  I don’t really think there were any in the country.  I don’t believe they had a foreign correspondent of any description.  It was a thoroughly French establishment of the best kind.

We walked about the small park and gardens in the afternoon.  The gardens are enormous; one can drive through them.  Mme. A. drove in her pony carriage.  They still had some lovely late roses which filled me with envy—­ours were quite finished.

The next day was not quite so fine, gray and misty, but a good shooting day, no wind.  We joined the gentlemen for lunch in another pavilion farther away and rather more open than the one of the other day.  However, we were warm enough with our coats on, a good fire burning, and hot bricks for our feet.  The battues (aux echelles) that day were quite a new experience for me.  I had never seen anything like it.  The shooters were placed in a semicircle, not very far apart.  Each man was provided with a high double ladder.  The men stood on the top (the women seated themselves on the rungs of the ladders and hung on as well as they could).  I went the first time with W., and he made me so many recommendations