"Yes; in all probability kings and courtiers, grand seigneurs and noble dames once cast their eyes upon it," remarked Dunstan. "Ah, if I could only invoke the muse, what a grand poem I could compose!"
"And by so doing either provoke or amuse us," chuckled Chase, with the first laugh he had been heard to utter during the day.
"Good!—Chase's second joke!" cried Don, approvingly.
"Allons, mes amis—let's go!"
The trio, skirting around the fountain, reached the road again and continued to tramp steadily on. The way led up a slight ascent, and occasionally, through openings in the trees, they caught glimpses of charming bits of scenery, with shadowy, mysterious-looking hills looming up beyond. Then they observed what had once been very wonderful lawns, but which were now mere fields overrun with weeds and tall grasses and deeply pitted here and there with shell-holes.
They were approaching a bend, and the moment the turn was reached Dunstan stopped short, and, with a wave of his hand, exclaimed dramatically:
"'Behold yon tower;
Mark well those crumbling walls—
Those silent chroniclers of years gone by,
Of tyranny and tears!'"