“A very different kind of visitor appeared one fine morning.  He was, he said, the business man of Mme. de Combray, a worthy woman who lived in her Chateau of Tournebut d’Aubevoye near Gaillon.  She was a fervent royalist, and had heard through common friends of my father’s disappearance, and compassionating our misfortune placed a house near her own at the disposal of my mother, who would there find the safety and peace that she needed, after her cruel sorrows.  As my mother hesitated, Mme. de Combray’s messenger urged the benefit to my health, the exercise and the good air indispensable at my age, and finally she consented.  Having obtained all necessary information, my mother, the servant and I took the boat two days after, at Saint-Germain, and arrived by sunset the same evening at Roule, near Aubevoye.  A gardener was waiting with a cart for us and our luggage.  A few moments later we entered the court of the chateau.

“Mme. de Combray received us in a large room overlooking the Seine.  She had one of her sons with her, and two intimate friends, who welcomed my mother with the consideration due to the widow of one who had served the good cause.  Supper was served; I was drooping with sleep, and the only remembrance I have of this meal is the voice of my mother, passionate and excitable as ever.  Next morning, after breakfast, the gardener appeared with his cart, to take us to the house we were to occupy; the road was so steep and rough that my mother preferred to go on foot, leading her horse by the bridle.  We were in a thick wood, climbing all the time, and surprised at having to go so far and so high to reach the habitation that had been offered to us near the chateau.  We came to a clearing in the wood, and the gardener cried, ‘Here we are!’ and pointed to our dwelling.  ‘Oh!’ cried my mother, ‘it is a donjon!’ It was an old round tower, surmounted by a platform and with no opening but the door and some loop-holes that served as windows.

“The situation itself was not displeasing.  A plateau cleared in the woods, surrounded by large trees with a vista towards the Seine, and a fine view extending some distance.  The gardener had a little hut near by, and there was a small kitchen-garden for our use.  In fact one would have been easily satisfied with this solitude, after the misfortunes of the Isle Saint-Louis, if the tower had been less forbidding.  To enter it one had to cross a little moat, over which were thrown two planks, which served as a bridge.  By means of a cord and pulley this could be drawn up from the inside, against the entrance door, thus making it doubly secure.  ‘And this is the drawbridge!’ said my mother, mockingly.

“The ground floor consisted of a circular chamber, with a table, chairs, a sideboard, etc.  Opposite the door, in an embrasure of the wall, about two yards in thickness, a barred window lighted this room, which was to serve as sitting-room, kitchen and dining-room at the same time; but lighted it so imperfectly that to see plainly even in the daytime one had to leave the door open.  On one side was the fireplace, and on the other the wooden staircase that led to the upper floors; under the staircase was a trap-door firmly closed by a large lock.