staircases and ceilings, in all the old royal residences
of this part of France, are the parts that have suffered
least; many of them have still much of the life of the
old time about them. Some of the chambers of Che-
nonceaux, however, encumbered as they are with mo-
dern detail, derive a sufficiently haunted and suggestive
look from the deep setting of their beautiful windows,
which thickens the shadows and makes dark, corners.
There is a charming little Gothic chapel, with its apse
hanging over the water, fastened to the left flank of
the house. Some of the upper balconies, which look
along the outer face of the gallery, and either up or
down the river, are delightful protected nooks. We
walked through the lower gallery to the other bank of
the Cher; this fine apartment appeared to be for the
moment a purgatory of ancient furniture. It terminates
rather abruptly; it simply stops, with a blank wall.
There ought, of course, to have been a pavilion here,
though I prefer very much the old defect to any mo-
dern remedy. The wall is not so blank, however, but
that it contains a door which opens on a rusty draw-
bridge. This drawbridge traverses the small gap which
divides the end of the gallery from the bank of the
stream. The house, therefore, does not literally rest
on opposite edges of the Cher, but rests on one and
just fails to rest on the other. The pavilion would
have made that up; but after a moment we ceased to
miss this imaginary feature. We passed the little
drawbridge, and wandered awhile beside the river.
From this opposite bank the mass of the chateau looked