Gaston pointed toward it—a low-lying building, of moderate size, with a carved stone gateway opening into a courtyard, and with a fair-sized pleasure ground around it. There was both comfort and beauty about it, but nothing in the least to compare with Capello.
“It is good enough for a bachelor,” said Gaston, grimly. “There shall I end my lonely old age.”
I have observed that when a man is deeply in love, he is apt to threaten the lady of his love with the suggestion of losing him.
To this Francezka replied, demurely:
“I shall be happy to have company; for, perhaps, I shall die a spinster.”
The whole rich and peaceful landscape lay before us—the red-tiled village, the little stone church, the windmills—all singularly pleasant to look upon, giving one a sense of the well-being of the people; and to one who has seen the gardens of the world ravaged by fire and sword, this means much. Gaston assured us that as soon as his house was in order, he would have me to stay with him, thereby abandoning Count Saxe for the time; and Francezka diverted herself with asking me, if she and Count Saxe were in a burning building and I could only save one of them, which would it be—and other pleasantries.
Regnard Cheverny had evidently been looking for Mademoiselle Capello, and presently joined us, and by that time we were called to the château for breakfast. The parish priest, a modest, homely, shabby little man, named Benart, was already at the château, to pay his respects to the ladies. He remained to breakfast, and I formed a high opinion of his judgment by the respect he paid to Count Saxe, although purposely kept in ignorance of my master’s rank and condition. The little priest mentioned that his brother, the Bishop of Louvain, would soon be coming to visit him, at which Madame Riano snorted like a war-horse. I suspected that she and the bishop did not deeply love each other, and Jacques Haret afterward enlightened 161 us on the subject. I began to wonder where Jacques Haret would bestow himself, for I suspected that Mademoiselle Capello would not permit her hospitality to be imposed upon. This was settled by the action of Gaston Cheverny, who told me before breakfast, when we had a word in private, that he intended to ask Jacques Haret to the Manoir Cheverny.
“Otherwise he will remain here to Mademoiselle Capello’s annoyance, and that I wish to spare her,” he said to me.
When he had risen from table, Gaston therefore announced that he and his brother and Jacques Haret would be quartered at the Manoir Cheverny, but he hoped to see much of the ladies at the château of Capello, and also of Count Saxe and Captain Babache—which we all suitably acknowledged. Then, meaning to give the ladies time to rest, Count Saxe and myself accepted Gaston’s invitation to accompany him to his own house. This we did, walking across the park in the bright autumn morning. Jacques Haret diverted us on the way by his history of the bloody warfare which had raged for thirty years between the Bishop of Louvain and Madame Riano.