I went all over the house later with the Marquis de Lasteyrie.  Of course, what interested me most was Lafayette’s private apartments—­bedroom and library—­the latter left precisely as it was during Lafayette’s lifetime; bookcases filled with his books in their old-fashioned bindings, running straight around the walls and a collection of manuscripts and autograph letters from kings and queens of France and most of the celebrities of the days of the Valois—­among them several letters from Catherine de Medicis, Henry IV, and la Reine Margot.  One curious one from Queen Margot in which she explains to the Vicomte de Chabot (ancestor of my host) that she was very much preoccupied in looking out for a wife for him with a fine dot, but that it was always difficult to find a rich heiress for a poor seigneur.

There are also autographs of more modern days, among which is a letter from an English prince to the Vicomte de Chabot (grandfather of the Marquis de Lasteyrie), saying that he loses no time in telling him of the birth of a very fine little girl.  He certainly never realized when he wrote that letter what would be the future of his baby daughter.  The writer was the Duke of Kent—­the fine little girl, Queen Victoria.

In a deep window-seat in one corner, overlooking the farm, is the writing-table of Lafayette.  In the drawers are preserved several books of accounts, many of the items being in his handwriting.  Also his leather arm-chair (which was exhibited at the Chicago World’s Fair), and a horn or speaking-trumpet through which he gave his orders to the farm hands from the window.  The library opened into his bedroom—­now the boudoir of the Marquise de Lasteyrie—­with a fine view over moat and meadow.  In this room there have been many changes, but the old doors of carved oak still remain.

There are many interesting family portraits—­one of the father of Lafayette, killed at Minden, leaving his young son to be brought up by two aunts, whose portraits are on either side of the fireplace.

It is curious to see the two portraits of the same epoch so absolutely unlike.  Mme. de Chavagnac, an old lady, very simply dressed, almost Puritanical, with a white muslin fichu over her plain black silk dress—­the other, Mademoiselle de Lafayette, in the court dress of the time of Louis XVI, pearls and roses in the high, powdered coiffure and a bunch of orange flowers on one shoulder, to indicate that she was not a married woman.

There were pictures and souvenirs of all the Orleans family—­the Lasteyries having been always faithful and devoted friends of those unfortunate princes; a charming engraving of the Comte de Paris, a noble looking boy in all the bravery of white satin and feathers—­the original picture is in the possession of the Duc de Chartres.  It was sad to realize when one looked at the little prince with his bright eyes and proud bearing, that the end of his life would be so melancholy—­exile and death in a foreign land.