If we did not admire the little auberge of the ‘Golden Fleece,’ truly the fault was rather our own than from any want of merit in the little hostelry itself. Situated on a rocky promontory on the river, it was built actually over the stream—the door fronting it, and approachable by a little wooden gallery, along which a range of orange-trees and arbutus was tastefully disposed, scenting the whole air with their fragrance. As we walked along we caught glimpses of several rooms within, neatly and even handsomely furnished—and of one salon in particular, where books and music lay scattered on the tables, with that air of habitation so pleasant to look on.
So far from our appearance in a neighbourhood thus remote and secluded creating any surprise, both host and hostess received us with the most perfect ease, blended with a mixture of cordial civility very acceptable at the moment.
‘We wish to dine at once,’ said I, as I handed Laura to a chair.
‘And to know in what way we can reach Rochepied,’ said she; ‘our horses are weary and not able for the road.’
‘For the dinner, mademoiselle, nothing is easier; but as to getting forward to-night——’
‘Oh, of course I mean to-night—at once.’
‘Ah, voilà,’ said he, scratching his forehead in bewilderment; ‘we’re not accustomed to that, never. People generally stop a day or two; some spend a week here, and have horses from Dinant to meet them.’
‘A week here!’ exclaimed she; ‘and what in Heaven’s name can they do here for a week?’
‘Why, there’s the château, mademoiselle—the château of Philip de Bouvigne, and the gardens terraced in the rock; and there’s the well of St. Sèvres, and the Ile de Notre Dame aux bois; and then there’s such capital fishing in the stream, with abundance of trout.’
‘Oh, delightful, I’m sure,’ said she impatiently; ‘but we wish to get on. So just set your mind to that, like a worthy man.’