It was a large structure, with blackened walls, in front of the steps a kitchen-garden, then uncultivated, sloped from terrace to terrace, for the castle being almost buried in the sides of a wooded hill had no level space around it. Craggy mountains begirt it on every side, and the trees springing up amid the rocks lent a sombre verdure that was sad to look upon. Its forsaken condition added still more to the disorder of its natural wildness. Madame de Moncar stood riveted in amazement on the threshold of this old castle.
“This looks very little like a party of pleasure,” said she. “I could weep at the melancholy aspect of the place. Nevertheless, here we have fine trees, stupendous rocks, and a roaring torrent—there is no doubt a degree of beauty in all this, but it is all too serious for me,” she added, smiling. “Let us enter and look at the interior.”
“Yes, yes,” replied the hungry guests, “let us see if the cook, who left yesterday to prepare for us, has arrived more successfully than ourselves.”
They were soon made aware of the joyful fact that a plentiful breakfast would be served in all haste, and meanwhile set about reconnoitering the castle. The antiquated furniture, with well-worn linen covers, chairs with only three feet, rickety tables, and the discordant sounds of a piano which had lain neglected for twenty years, furnished a thousand subjects for pleasant jokes. Their gayety returned, and it was agreed that instead of fretting at the inconveniences of their uncomfortable abode, they would laugh and joke at every thing. Besides, for this young and thoughtless company, this day was an event, a campaign, almost a perilous one, the originality of which began to appeal to the imagination. A fagot had been lighted in the large hall chimney, but puffs of smoke filling every nook, they made their escape into the garden. Here, too, the aspect was strange: the stone seats were covered with moss, the walls of the terraces in many places crumbling in, had left space between the ill-joined stones, where a thousand wild plants were growing, now shooting up straight and tall, now bending over to the ground like flexible vines; the walks were hidden beneath the green turf, and the parterres reserved for cultivated flowers had been invaded by wild ones, which spring up wherever the skies let fall one drop of rain or the sun sheds a ray. The white convolvulus twined round and choked up the monthly rose, the wild mulberry mingled with the red fruit of the currant, and the long fern, the sweet-scented mint, and the prickly thistle grew by the side of some long forgotten lilies. The minute the party entered the garden, innumerable little insects, frightened at the unusual noise, took refuge under the grass, and birds quitting their nests flew from branch to branch. The silence which had reigned for so many years in this peaceful spot gave place to the hum of voices and merry bursts of laughter. None of them appreciated this solitude, none even meditated on it, it was disturbed, profaned without respect. Numerous anecdotes were related of the different episodes of the most pleasant of their winter soirées, anecdotes mingled with agreeable allusions, expressive glances, hidden compliments; in fine, with all those thousand nothings that accompany the conversation of such as seek to be pleased, not yet claiming the right to be serious.
The steward, after having vainly searched high and low through the whole castle to find a bell which might be heard at some distance, at last decided on calling out from the top of the steps, that breakfast was served up, while the half smile accompanying his words, showed that he, as well as his superiors, had made up his mind for that day at least to dispense with his ordinary habits of etiquette and propriety. They sat gayly down to table. The old castle was forgotten, the deserted condition in which they had found it, and the sadness that reigned around. All spoke at the same time, and they drank to the health of their hostess, or rather of the fairy whose presence alone made of that decayed habitation an enchanted palace. Suddenly every eye was turned toward the dining-room window.
“Heavens! what is this?” they exclaimed.
Before the castle windows a small cariole of osier, painted green, with large wheels, as high as the body of the vehicle itself, was seen to drive up and stop; it was drawn by a short gray horse, whose eyes seemed to be endangered by the shafts of the cabriolet, and were constantly turned upward. The drawn curtains of the cabriolet only disclosed a pair of arms covered with the sleeves of a blue surtout, and a whip that tickled the ears of the gray horse.
It was this singular arrival which caused the exclamation of surprise related in the commencement of our story.
“Gracious! ladies,” said Madame de Moncar, “I had forgotten to tell you that I was absolutely forced to invite the village doctor to breakfast with us; he is an old man who formerly rendered services to my uncle’s family, and whom I have seen once or twice. But be not alarmed at this new guest, he is very silent. After a few words of common politeness we may act as though he were not here—besides, I do not think he will stay long.”
At this period the door opened and Doctor Barnabé entered. He was a little feeble old man, with a mild and calm countenance. His white hair was tied behind in a queue of the old style. A sprinkling of powder covered his temples as well as his forehead, which was furrowed with wrinkles. He wore a black coat, and breeches with steel buckles. On one arm hung a great-coat, lined with puce colored taffeta. The other hand held a large cane and his hat. The toute-ensemble of the toilette of the village doctor gave evidence that he had that day taken great pains with his dress; but his black stockings and coat were covered with large splashes of mud, as though the poor old man had fallen into some ditch. He stopped short on the threshold of the door, astonished at finding himself in so large a company. A slight embarrassment was depicted for a moment on his features, but he recovered himself and bowed without speaking. At this strange entrance the guests were seized with a great desire to laugh, which they repressed as well as they could. Madame de Moncar alone, who could not, as the mistress of the house, be wanting in politeness, remained serious.