So Rosamond rang and the maids came back, wondering what strange young demoiselles they had to wait upon now.

Patty allowed herself to be dressed by the deft-fingered maid, and being ready first, stepped out on the little balcony opening from her window to wait for the others.

A beautiful view met her eye.  The lawn was terraced in many slopes, and the flower-beds and shrubberies, though arranged with French precision, formed a beautiful landscape.  There were fountains playing, and here and there arbours and trellises and pleasant paths.

But the girls called to her, and Patty joined them, and twining their arms about each other’s waists, they walked down the broad staircase.

They were all in white, and their pretty frocks and dainty slippers made a modern note that contrasted strangely but pleasantly with the antique relics and ancient atmosphere of the chateau.

When they reached the great hall, a footman ushered them into the grand drawing-room where they were to await Ma’amselle.

She soon appeared, resplendent in her old-time grandeur, and going to greet her, the girls kissed her hand, an old custom which greatly pleased their hostess.

“But it is of a joy to see you!” she exclaimed.  “Me, I am so much alone.  It is not good to be alone, and yet, it is my choice.  I stay in the home of my ancestors, therefore I stay alone.  Voila!” she shrugged her shoulders, as if to emphasise the fact that it was more joy to live alone in the old chateau than to be anywhere else.

“But I am not always alone,” she went on; “no, it is that my Henri, my nephew, comes to me at occasion.  And he comes soon.  Jour de l’an always brings him.  He spends the day with me.  He makes me a pleasure.  And you shall see him, you young ladies.  Ah, how he is beautiful!” The old lady clasped her hands and turned her gaze upward, and the girls were fain to believe that her nephew was indeed a wonderful specimen of humanity.

Then the dinner was announced, and leaning on the arm of an old footman, who was quite as dignified as she was herself, Ma’amselle led the way to the dining-room.

The table appointments, Patty thought, would have done justice to any of the most celebrated characters in French history, had they been there to enjoy them.

Although not exactly embarrassed, the girls were a little bit awed at splendour so unusual to them.  To Rosamond it seemed distinctly humorous that three such young American girls should be honoured guests in such a regal household; to Elise it seemed extremely interesting, and the novelty and strangeness of it all impressed her more than the grandeur.

But Patty, with her usual quick ability to accept a situation, seemed to take everything for granted, and made herself quite at home.  The wonderfully garbed footmen who stood behind their chairs like statues, except when they were wound up, nearly made Rosamond giggle; but to Patty, they were merely part of the performance, and once accepted as such, of course, they belonged in the picture.