In spite of the fact that Boulogne-sur-Mer is full of English pleasure-seekers, we spent restful, happy days there in a pension which occupies an old monastery.
BLOIS:
Do you recall how Athos of "The Three Musketeers" fame was continually reminding D'Artagnan that the "purest French in all France is spoken in Blois"? And it was because of my interest in Dumas's heroes that, when the time came for me to visit the château country I made Blois my home.
I am unable to pass upon the "purest French," but I can assure you that I watch in vain for the polished Athos, or the reckless, dashing D'Artagnan of former days. I did find the youthful Aramis—but not at Blois. This one was en route to Waterloo.
The only time I feel inclined to forgive Henry James for the unkind things he has said of my countrywomen, is when I read his French sojourns and recall his advice that the best economy is to stop at Blois first when on a visit to this fascinating region.
If you desire a unique experience and would have entrée as a parlor boarder to the fashionable school for demoiselles, go to Blois armed with letters from the president, the king or emperor of your fatherland. Fortunately, the day I arrived with my credentials, two English girls had been called home, and when at last I was permitted to matriculate, I had their room alone, with windows giving on the terrace and the Loire.
I fell into line with the rules of the institution, and studied, recited, walked out each evening chaperoned by one of the mistresses, and took my holiday every Thursday with the other students.
Sometimes I asked and was given permission to add Friday and Saturday to my holiday when I wished to stop longer than one day at some of the old châteaux. I always returned, however, proud that my Château of Blois was the finest of them all.
The Château of Blois was erected on a colossal foundation, both strong and high, but the castle itself is light and graceful, with its wonderful staircase and court of François I. I used often to take my book to the little park in front of the château and sit for hours—not reading, but gazing at the old castle and dreaming of Bragelonne and Louise.