They lived in a charming old Louis XV. chateau almost in the forest of Villers-Cotterets—­their park touching the line of wood.  They went rarely to Paris; lived almost all the year in the country and were devoted to their place.  One just saw the pointed red roof of the chateau in the trees as one passed on the road.  It stood high, a very steep road leading up to it.  At the foot of the hill were market gardens, which made a very curious effect from a distance—­the long rows of glass “cloches” making huge white spots.  The vegetables always looked very tempting as we passed in the early summer.  They were all “primeurs”—­the gardens lying in full sun and were sent off to the Paris market.  Half-way up the slope was a pretty little church almost hidden in the trees, and a tiny village struggled up the hill and along the road.

The bride, dressed in white—­a slight girlish figure—­was standing near her mother-in-law and had a pretty smile of welcome for all the guests.  It was rather an ordeal for her, as she was a stranger in the country (she came from the south of France) and every one was looking at the newcomer.

It was in the first year of my marriage, my first appearance in the country, and I was rather puzzled about my dress for the occasion.  We were asked to dinner at seven o’clock.  My first idea was to wear full dress—­light-blue satin and diamonds—­but a niece of Mme. A.’s, who was staying with us and who had been to some entertainments in that part of the country, advised me strongly to dress more simply.  “They would not understand that sort of toilette and I would be overdressed and probably uncomfortable.”  So I compromised with a high white dress, no diamonds and one string of pearls.

We had a short hour’s drive.  It was a clear, cold night and we saw the chateau from a great distance.  It was brilliantly lighted.  The lights twinkling through the trees looked like huge fireflies.  As we drove into the rather small court-yard there was quite a stir of carriages arriving and backing out.  The hall doors were wide open; a flood of light streaming out over the steps—­Baron de L. and his son at the door.  There was a hum of voices in the drawing-room and there seemed to be a great many people.  The rooms were handsome—­plenty of light, the old tapestry furniture looked very well, standing straight and stiff against the wall, and the number of people took away the bare unused look they generally had.

All the chateaux of the neighbourhood were represented:  The Comte de Lubersac and his sister had come over from their fine place, Maucreux.  He was a very handsome young man—­a great hunter and master of hounds of the stag hunting in the forest of Villers-Cotterets; his sister, Mlle. de Lubersac, most attractive, with the face of a saint.  She was very simply dressed in a high black dress.  She lived almost the life of a Sister of Charity—­going about all day among the sick and poor, but she had promised her father, who was a great invalid, almost crippled with gout, to remain with him as long as he lived.  It was only after his death that she took the vows and entered one of the strictest orders (Carmelites) in France.