Robineau and his friends left the bedroom. Monsieur Cunette, who was exceedingly pig-headed in his cups, and who considered that the concierge should be present at the inspection of the château, followed his master, supporting himself against the walls.
They walked through long, venerable galleries, lighted by great ogive windows, through which the light found its way with difficulty, however, because the glass was coated with dust. They entered enormous rooms, all decorated in the same general style as Robineau’s bedroom, where the eye could hardly reach the ceiling.
"This château must have been in existence in the time of King Pepin," said Edouard.
"It is all superb," said Robineau, who gazed in admiration at every landscape painted over the doors and mirrors.
"Say rather that it must have been very beautiful two centuries ago!—But now!"
"Mirrors are still mirrors, my dear Alfred."
"Very good! but the gilding is no longer gilding, and the paintings look like old fans!"
"For a baron, you seem rather indifferent to the value of what is venerable. I am certain that Monsieur Edouard appreciates the beauties of this château better than you do."
"To my mind," said Edouard, "there is a touch of romance, of vagueness about it."
"Isn’t there? It’s magnificent! There’s room enough to lodge a regiment!"