All of them were glad to have a change. The spring was well under way. Paris was never more beautiful, with flowers everywhere; but Mrs. Brown confessed to being a little tired of housekeeping; and Molly was looking a little fagged. The lecture rooms were hot and the dinners at the restaurants were not so delightful, now that the novelty had worn off. Spring fever was the real matter with them and a good lazy time at the chateau in Normandy was all that was necessary to put them on their feet again. Pierce Kinsella had been included in the invitation, as the marchioness slyly told her son, to take care of the girl that he, Philippe, would finally decide not to be the one of all others for him.
Roche Craie was very interesting to the Americans. It was a castle literally dug out of chalk cliffs. The so-called new chateau (only about two hundred years old), was built out in front, but the original old castle was little more than a cave or series of caves. The family used only the new part but kept it all in absolute repair. The architecture was pure Gothic, vaulted roofs and pointed arches. Where the roof and walls were dug in the chalk, there was an attempt at carving, carrying out the Gothic spirit. Huge chimneys had their openings in the fields overhead, and strange, indeed, did it seem to find one of these old chimneys in a wheat field with poppies and corn flowers growing in its crevices.
"A very convenient country for Santa Claus to ply his trade," said Molly to Philippe, who was showing her over the estate. "But what is this peaked thing with the cross on it?"
"Oh, that is the steeple to the chapel, which is dug very far back under the hill and is one of the most interesting things about Roche Craie. We did not take you there this morning when we were showing you over the old castle, as my mother has a kind of horror of it and hates to go in it. There is a ghost story connected with it, and you must know by this time how ma mère shuns the disagreeable things of this life," answered Philippe, looking at Molly with growing admiration. Some persons seem to belong out of doors and Molly was one of them. Her clear, fine complexion could stand the searchlight of the brightest sun, her hair was like burnished gold, her eyes, Philippe thought, like the bluets in the fields of Normandy.
"Cousin Molly, you remind me of the beautiful Jehane de Saint-Pol. Jehane of the Fair Girdle, the beloved of Richard C[oe]ur de Lion, Richard Yea-and-Nay. Her eyes were gray green while yours are of the most wonderful blue, but there is something about your height and slenderness, your poise, the set of your head, the glory of your hair that suggests her. If Mother gives the fancy dress ball that she is threatening, please go as Jehane. I should like to go as Richard."
Molly blushed. She was always confused by compliments and personalities and hoped Philippe would stop pressing them on her. They had been pleasant companions in Paris and she had liked being with him very much. He was extremely agreeable and well-informed, handsome and charming, but Molly preferred him as a cousin to a courtier. She had an idea that the title of "Yea-and-Nay" was rather suitable for him, more suitable than "Lion Hearted."
"Please tell me the ghost story about the chapel," she begged, changing the subject adroitly.
"All right, if you won't tell mother I told it. She has a horror of it and is afraid the servants might get timid and refuse to stay here alone while we are in Paris, if the old tale were revived. My people, you perhaps know, were Huguenots. The archives show that it was from flocks of sheep belonging to Roche Craie that the wool was taken to send as a present to Queen Elizabeth of England, in return for her gift of nine pieces of cannon to the downtrodden Huguenots.
"The owner of Roche Craie was one Jean d'Ochtè, a man of great intelligence and integrity. He had been a gay courtier at the court of Charles IX, but, there, had come under the influence of Admiral Coligny and had turned Huguenot. His wife, much younger than himself, the beautiful Elizabeth, a cousin of the Guises, followed her husband's example but saw no reason why she need give up all gaiety and pleasure because of her change of heart. But Jean took her away from the court and all of its dissipations and dangers and brought her here to the old chateau, where she was literally buried alive in stupidity and ennui.
"Jean fought with the Prince of Condé against the Guises, but when peace was finally declared in 1570, I think it was, he came back to Roche Craie and began to get his estate in order. Elizabeth besought him to take her back to court where she had been a great favorite, but he feared that the life of gaiety would undermine her not too strenuous piety, and refused.