Three days since I wrote, blessed old Thing, but it seems three times three, for all the hours have been as cramfull as you used to fill my stocking at Christmas.
We couldn't get away from Amboise, as we expected, because the tyres didn't arrive till late in the evening. I knew it must be a long, tedious business fixing them on, so I never dreamed of starting next morning; but when morning came, and with it the chambermaid and my bath, there was a note from Brown, written in a hand a lot nicer than my poor "fist," announcing that the car was ready, and if I would like a surprise, might he "respectfully suggest" that I should come downstairs as soon as possible. You can imagine that I didn't "stand on the order of my going." My hair crinkled with surprise at being done so quickly, and I was in such a hurry that I nearly-but not quite-slid down the balusters.
Brown was at the front door, with the car all politely polished, and seeming to stand upon tiptoe on its big new tyres. But smart as the car was, it was nothing to the chauffeur. He looked like a sort of male Cinderella just after the fairy godmother had waved her wand; only instead of a ball dress she had given him, in place of his black leather, a suit of grey clothes; one of those high, turnover collars I love on a good-looking man; a dark necktie, and what we call a "Derby" hat and the English call a "bowler." He was nice! I don't know if I'm a judge of a man's clothes, but to me they seemed as good form as any tailor in the world could cut. Perhaps the Honourable John gave them to him. Poor dear! he's far too fine a fellow really to have to wear another man's cast-off garments; but I suppose Providence must know best, and, anyhow, I'm sure the H. J. never looked half as nice in the things.
Brown had on also a mysterious air, which seemed to go with the clothes, and he asked if I'd mind taking a short run with him, without knowing beforehand where I was going. I said that, on the contrary, I should like it. That seemed to please him. He helped me in (not that I needed it), the car started with a touch, and we began to thread the streets of the town behind the Château, I wondering what was going to happen. When I had been in this car before, it was to travel "on the rims," you know. Now, on our four-plump new Michelins from Paris it was like being in a balloon, so easy was the motion even over the badly paved streets.
We wound round under the high wall of the Château, and came in a few minutes to a huge gateway. As we slowed down this gateway opened mysteriously from within to show a dim corkscrew of a road winding upward. I opened my mouth to ask an astonished question; then I thought better of it and kept still, though I know my eyes must have been snapping when Brown actually drove the car in. The gateway clanged behind us, as if by enchantment, shutting us into a twilight region, and behold, we were mounting the incline of the great tower, up which, perhaps, nobody had ever driven since the days of Mary Stuart.
Wasn't it kind of Brown to remember my wish (which even I had forgotten!) to drive up the tower? I could hardly thank him enough for such a new and thrilling sensation as it was, twisting up and up, seeming to float in the vast hollow of the passage, the exquisite carved and vaulted roof giving back a rhythmical reverberation of the throbbing of our motor.
I couldn't even say "thank you," though, except in my thoughts, till we got to the top (which we did much too soon), for somehow it would have broken the charm to speak. But I think Brown understood that I appreciated it all, and what he had done.
At the top a big doorway stood open, and by it one of the delightful, grizzled, dignified old dears who must have been made guardians of the Château, because they fit so well into the picture. I thought, though, that this one looked different from before, for some reason quite flurried and almost scared. I suppose it must have been the car and the unusualness that upset him; but Brown drove out splendidly, stopping in the terrace-garden.
"At that door," said the charming old fellow, "Francis the First of France received Henry the Eighth of England, who with a train of a hundred knights rode up the sloping way in the tower. To-day is the first time that an automobile has ever been inside the doors; therefore, mademoiselle, you have just been making history." And he bowed so deliciously that I could have cried, because I hadn't my purse with me to give him a "guerdon"; that would have been the only word, if I had had it. Fortunately Brown had. Something yellow glittered as it passed from hand to hand, and the old Frenchman (so dramatic, like most of his countrymen) bowed again and took off his hat with a flourish. If the something hadn't been yellow, but only white, I wonder if he would have let us make that splendid, sweeping circle round the gardens before we plunged back into the cool gloom of the tower?
Oh, that descent! I feel breathless, just remembering it, but it was a glorious kind of breathlessness, like you feel when you go tobogganing-only more so. Brown took it at tremendous speed, but I wasn't a bit afraid, for I trust him utterly as a driver. If he said he could take me safely over Niagara Falls, and looked straight at me in a way he has when he said it, I believe I'd go-unless, of course, you objected!