We didn't pay many visits; but sometimes, when the weather was fine
and there was no hunting, and W. gone upon an expedition to some
outlying village, Mme. A. and I would start off for one of the
neighbouring châteaux. We went one day to the château de C, where
there was a large family party assembled, four generations--the old
grandmother, her son and daughter, both married, the daughter's
daughter, also married, and her children. It was a pretty drive,
about an hour all through the forest. The house is quite modern, not
at all pretty, a square white building, with very few trees near it,
the lawn and one or two flower-beds not particularly well kept. The
grounds ran straight down to the Villers-Cotterets forest, where M.
M. has good shooting. The gates were open, the concierge said the
ladies were there. (They didn't have to be summoned by a bell. That
is one of the habits of this part of the country. There is almost
always a large bell at the stable or "communs," and when visitors
arrive and the family are out in the grounds, not too far off, they
are summoned by the bell. I was quite surprised one day at
Bourneville, when we were in the woods at some little distance from
the château, when we heard the bell, and my companion, a niece of
Mme. A., instantly turned back, saying, "That means there are visits;
we must go back.") We found all the ladies sitting working in a
corner salon with big windows opening on the park. The old
grandmother was knitting, but she was so straight and slight, with
bright black eyes, that it wouldn't have seemed at all strange to see
her bending over an embroidery frame like all the others. The other
three ladies were each seated at an embroidery frame in the
embrasures of the windows. I was much impressed, particularly with
the large pieces of work that they were undertaking, a portière,