By the time Jack had finished this harangue we had climbed the hill
out of Rouen and were on the fine but _accidenté_ highroad that leads
past Boos and Pont St. Pierre. Soon we would reach Les Andelys and
Château Gaillard. Still Jack was not quite ready to let me put my
newly acquired knowledge into practice. There was a hill of some
consequence before Mantes, which we had to reach by way of La Roche
Guyon and Limay. After that there would be only what the route book
calls "_fortes ondulations_"; and under the stronghold of Lion Heart
himself (an appropriate spot, forsooth!), I was to try my hand at
dragon-driving.

Winston brought the car to a standstill at the foot of the mouldering
ruins of Richard's "Saucy Castle," and as we looked up at the towering
battlements, the huge flanking towers, and the ponderous citadel, the
dark mass on its lofty rock set in the sunny landscape like a
bloodstone in a gold ring, seemed to be an epitome in stone of life in
the Middle Ages.

I uttered every idea that came into my mind concerning the ruin, and
squeezed my brain for more, till my head felt like a drained orange;
not that I enjoyed hearing myself talk, or thought that Jack and Molly
would do so, but because they could not well interrupt the flow of my
eloquence to remind me of the reason for our stop.

At last, however, silence fell upon us. It was a shock to me when
Molly broke it. "Oh, Lord Lane, have you forgotten that this is where
you're to begin driving? The road is nice and broad here."

I put on a brave air, as does one at the dentist's. "I hope that