guide? I was quite content, and the next morning saw me mounted on the cheval brun, a thick-set, steady-going little hack, while bare-footed Pierre ran by my side. It was a long way, and owing to my steed losing a shoe, and no smith appearing within reach, and the three hours’ search after that worthy which ensued, I soon saw that I had better make up my mind to spend the night at Carlan, or the nearest village, and send Pierre back to give notice of my proceedings.
“The road was quite straight now,” he said, and so we parted, and I went on my way. I had questioned my little guide as we came along about the Carlans, whose château we were going to visit, but he was not able to enlighten me much.
“C’était une grande famille que les Carlans, mais il n’y en a plus,” was all he knew, and so I waited to satisfy my curiosity till I should meet some one better able to instruct me.
As the evening came on, the sky began to darken, and the clouds to scud about in rather an alarming way. There seemed to be no habitations in the immediate neighbourhood so I pressed on my horse as fast as I could, in the direction which had been pointed out to me. At last I came in sight of the Château des Carlans, which I had no difficulty in recognising from the descriptions I had heard of it. It stood in the centre of a grove of trees with a thickly-set avenue leading from one side of it down to the road, and was built in red brick with a number of turrets rising round one tall square tower. As far as I could see, it presented a confused mass of irregular buildings. Huge and gloomy enough it looked, and this appearance increased as I rode along the avenue. I had entered the park through a large arched gateway, which was in better repair than anything else seemed to be; except that one side of the massive iron-studded gate hung on by one hinge, while the other stood wide open, it might have still been the entrance to some lordly and well-kept demesne. The park was gloomy in the extreme: huge trees with moss-covered trunks threw their giant branches down to the very ground. On one side a large piece of water, looking still, and dark, and deep, without one living thing to enliven its surface, joined by a narrow rivulet the moat round the castle. On the other side were wide expanses of lawn and forest ground, while right before me rose the great sombre castle itself. A sort of modern terrace in the Louis XIV. style lay in front of it, strangely out of keeping with the grim feudal appearance of the building itself. There was certainly not much prospect of a night’s lodging here; but I remembered that my good hostess’s directions had never proved wrong yet, so I rode boldly along the avenue, across the terrace, and up to the great door. It was firmly closed, but I pulled violently at a rude sort of bell, evidently put up to suit the modern ideas of the porter, and swung away lustily at the huge iron knocker.
For a long time I heard no answer but the echo proceeding from my own efforts, which went rumbling off through long corridors and wide vacant spaces. I was almost beginning to despair, when I fancied I heard a sound in the distance, at first faint, and then nearer and nearer. The noise of shuffling feet came along the passage, then a rattling of keys. At last, one turned gratingly in the rusty lock, and slowly swinging open the door, a little, quaint-looking dame stood before me. With her snow-white hair, and wrinkled face, her strange dress, and high-heeled, steel-buckled shoes, the old woman might have served as a pendant to some of the pictures of the deceased ladies, whose portraits, doubtless, still hung in the picture-gallery.
She first looked surprised, and then pleased to see me; and, after asking whether I wished to see the castle, directed me to ride along the terrace, to a smaller door, where I should find some one to take my horse. A young man in a peasant’s dress made his appearance, and I then came back to the great door where she still stood, and entered the hall with her. It was a large, long hall, with doors opening on to it from every side, and a fine wide staircase with carved oak balustrade leading from the lower end to the apartments above. One of these doors my conductress opened, and we found ourselves in a low vaulted corridor which led to the rooms she occupied. Here she introduced me to her husband, apparently more ancient than herself; who, notwithstanding the time of year, sat before a blazing wood fire. The sight of it was anything but unpleasant on this chill, damp evening. Setting a chair before it, she courteously begged me to be seated. In a few minutes we were in full chat, and I felt that I was on the high road to learning as much of the history of the Seigneurs de Carlan as could be retained in the memory of living man. However, I did not forget to inquire about a lodging for the night, and the old dame, who seemed to have taken a considerable fancy to me, told me she would give me a room in the castle itself.
“Quoique,” as she said with a sigh, “il y a bien des années que personne y a logé que Jean et moi.”
So we passed the evening, and comfortably supped together at a small table by the fire, while the young man I had seen before, and a buxom peasant girl of about sixteen, took theirs at a sort of dresser, near the door. Soon after supper, the old lady with her attendant rose to prepare my room, and after many comings and goings, rattling of keys, and opening of cupboards, she pronounced it ready.
Following her, with Marie bringing up the rear, I crossed the hall, walked up the broad staircase, and found myself in a vast open corridor, corresponding to the hall below. Doors, staircases, and passages opened on to it in bewildering confusion. One of these last my hostess followed, and opening a door at the end of it, ushered me into my apartment. It looked bright enough at first, with its blazing fire and plentiful supply of bon-grès; but a second look showed me that it would take much more to enlighten all the depths and corners of that vast old chamber. The huge bed, with its deep crimson hangings, the walls of similar colour, the carved ebony chest, the cupboards, the closet in the corner, looked deep and mysterious enough for anything. However, as my hostess
