Gare de l'Est. I think it is the ugliest sortie of all Paris. As we
got near the château the Seine appeared, winding in and out of the
meadows in very leisurely fashion. We just saw the house from the
train, standing rather low. The station is at the park gates--in fact,
the railway and the canal run through the property. Two carriages were
waiting (we were not the only guests), and a covered cart for the
maids and baggage. A short drive through a fine avenue of big trees
skirting broad lawns brought us to the house, which looked very
imposing with its long façade and rows of lighted windows. We drove
through arcades covered with ivy into a very large court-yard, the
château stables and communs taking three sides. There was a pièce
d'eau at one end, a colombier at the other. There was no perron or
stately entrance; in one corner a covered porch, rather like what one
sees in England, shut in with glass door and windows and filled with
plants, a good many chrysanthemums, which made a great mass of colour.
The hall doors were wide open as the carriage drove up, Monsieur A.
and his wife waiting for us just inside, Mme. A. his mother, the
mistress of the château, at the door of the salon. We went into a
large, high hall, well lighted, a bright fire burning, plenty of
servants. It looked most cheerful and comfortable on a dark November
afternoon. We left our wraps in the hall, and went straight into the
drawing-room. I have been there so often since that I hardly remember
my first impression. It was a corner room, high ceiling, big windows,
and fine tapestries on the walls; some of them with a pink ground
(very unusual), and much envied and admired by all art collectors.
Mme. A. told me she found them all rolled up in a bundle in the garret
when she married. A tea-table was standing before the sofa, and
various people working and having their tea. We were not a large
party--Comte and Comtesse de B. (she a daughter of the house) and
three or four men, deputies and senators, all political. They counted