"Well! now that you do see him, do you recognize him?"
"That fellow? Wait a bit—ain’t it Vincent?"
"Why, no, idiot!"
"Then perhaps it’s Monsieur Flutanus, the schoolmaster."
"Evidently the rascal can’t see," said Robineau. "Come, messieurs, let us leave this tower; we have still another one to visit."
They left the North Tower, which did not seem destined to be the new owner’s favorite resort. Monsieur Cunette proposed that they should visit the dungeons underneath; but Robineau did not care to do so. They went to the other tower, where the apartments, being in a better state of preservation, had a less gloomy appearance. They found there a library, a bath-room, a music-room and a number of beds in reasonably good condition. At last they went out into the gardens.
Robineau was distressed to find that the sugar manufacturer had planted beets in three-fourths of the gardens; and Monsieur Vincent, who had admitted that he took care of only half of them, had allowed nettles and thistles to grow in the paths and under the shrubbery. Fruits, flowers and vegetables were planted pell-mell in the beds which had escaped the beets. The statues scattered here and there were in no better condition than the gardens. Hercules had lost his club, Venus had but one arm, Mercury was lame, the Graces were sadly maimed, Apollo had no nose, Hebe but one ear; Cupid alone was intact; that god sometimes resists the attacks of time.
Robineau heaved a sigh as he passed in front of each statue, saying:
"What a pity! such a lovely piece of work! That infernal manufacturer didn’t care for beautiful things!"
At the end of the gardens they entered the park, which was very large, but in which the brambles caught one’s feet at every step. At last, weary of walking, the young men returned to the château, inspected the stables, greenhouse and dairy, then adjourned to a salon on the ground floor for a little rest.