The weather was superb and the sun was rising when Emile found himself opposite Châteaubrun. That ruin, which had seemed to him so awe-inspiring by the glare of the lightning-flashes, bore now an appearance of majesty and splendor which triumphed over the ravages of time and the despoiler. The morning sunbeams bathed it in a rosy-white glow and the vegetation with which it was covered bloomed coquettishly—a fitting garment to be the virginal shroud of so noble a monument.
There are in reality few châteaux with entrances so majestically disposed and so commandingly situated as that of Châteaubrun. The square structure which contained the gateway and the ogive peristyle is of a beautiful design; the hewn stone used in the arch and in the frame of the former portcullis is of imperishable whiteness. The façade of the château stands at the top of the knoll, covered with turf and flowers but built on the solid rock which ends in a precipice, at the foot of which flows a torrential stream. The trees, rocks and patches of greensward, scattered without order or regularity over these steep slopes, have a natural charm which the creations of art could never surpass. In the other direction the view is more extensive and more grand: the Creuse, crossed diagonally by two dams, forms, among the fields and the willows, two gentle and melodious waterfalls in its lovely stream, sometimes so placid, sometimes so frantic in its course, but everywhere clear as crystal and everywhere bordered by enchanting landscapes and picturesque ruins. From the top of the large tower of the château the eye can follow it as it winds in and out among the steep cliffs and glides like a streak of quicksilver over the dark verdure and among the rocks covered with pink heather.
When Emile had crossed the bridge which passes over enormous ditches partly filled, their banks covered with tufts of grass and flowering brambles, he observed with pleasure the cleanliness of that vast natural terrace and all the approaches to the ruin, due to the recent downpour of rain. All the fragments of plaster had been washed away and all the scattered pieces of wood, and you would have said that some gigantic fairy had carefully washed the paths and the old walls, screened the gravel and cleared the passage of all the rubbish of demolition which the châtelain would never have been able to have removed. The flood, which had marred, spoiled, destroyed all the beauty of the new Cardonnet house, had served to clean and renovate the despoiled monument of Châteaubrun. Its immovable old walls defied the centuries and the tempest, and the elevated site they occupied seemed destined to dominate all the transitory works of later generations.
Although he was proud, as befitted a descendant of the ancient bourgeoisie, that intelligent, revengeful, wilful race, which has made such a glorious record in history and which would still be so exalted if it had held out its hand to the people instead of trampling them under foot, Emile was impressed by the majestic aspect which that feudal abode retained amid its ruins, and he was conscious of a thrill of respectful pity as he entered—he, a rich and powerful plebeian—that domain where only the pride of a great name was left to contend against the real superiority of his position. This generous compassion was all the easier to entertain because there was nothing in the feelings and habits of the châtelain either to invite it or to repel it. The excellent Antoine, who was occupied in trimming fruit trees at the entrance to his garden, placid, unconcerned and amiable, greeted him with a fatherly air, ran to meet him and said with a smile:
"Welcome, once more, my dear Monsieur Emile; for I know who you are now, and I am very glad to know you. Upon my word your face took my fancy at the first glance, and since you overthrew the prejudices that Jean tried to instill in me against your father, I feel that it will be pleasant to me to see you often in my ruins. Come with me first of all to the stable, and I will help you to fasten your horse, for Monsieur Charasson is busy grafting rose-bushes with my daughter and we mustn't interrupt the little one in such an important occupation. You will breakfast with me this time; for we owe you a meal that we stole from you the other day."
"I did not come to cause you more trouble, my generous host," said Emile, pressing with an irresistible impulse of friendliness the country gentleman's broad callous hand. "I wished first of all to thank you for your kindness to me, and in the second place to meet a man who is your friend and my own, and with whom I made an appointment for last evening."
"I know, I know about that," said Monsieur Antoine, putting his finger to his lips: "he told me the whole story. But he exaggerated his grievances against your father, as usual. We will talk about that later, however, and I have to thank you, on my own account, for your interest in him. He went away at daybreak, and I don't know if he will be able to return to-day, for he is more hotly pursued than ever; but I am sure that his affairs will soon take a turn for the better, thanks to you. You must tell me what you finally obtained from your father in the direction of my poor friend's safety and satisfaction. I am authorized to listen to you and to reply to you, for I have full powers to arrange the terms of pacification; I am sure that any terms that pass through your mouth will be honorable! But the matter is not so pressing that you cannot breakfast with us, and I tell you frankly that I will not begin negotiations on an empty stomach. Let us begin by feeding your horse, for animals don't know how to ask for what they want, and we ought to look out for them before we look out for ourselves, lest we forget them. Look you, Janille! bring your apron full of oats, for this noble beast is in the habit of eating them every day I am sure, and I want him to neigh in token of good-will every time he passes my gate; indeed I want him to come in in spite of his master, if he happens to forget me."
Janille, notwithstanding the parsimonious economy that guided all her actions, unhesitatingly brought a small quantity of oats which she kept in reserve for great occasions. She was of the opinion that they were a useless luxury; but she would have sold her last gown for the honor of her master's house, and on this occasion she said to herself with generous shrewdness that the present Emile had made her at their last interview and the one he would not fail to make her to-day would be more than enough to feed his horse sumptuously as often as he chose to come.
"Eat, my boy, eat," she said, patting the horse with an air which she strove to render manly and knowing; then, taking a handful of straw, she set about rubbing him down.
"Hold, Dame Janille," cried Emile, taking the straw from her hands, "I will do that myself."