About a mile from Villeneuve-le-Roi-les-Sens, there stood in 1775 a
handsome house, overlooking the windings of the Yonne on one side, and on
the other a garden and park belonging to the estate of Buisson-Souef. It
was a large property, admirably situated, and containing productive
fields, wood, and water; but not everywhere kept in good order, and
showing something of the embarrassed fortune of its owner. During some
years the only repairs had been those necessary in the house itself and
its immediate vicinity. Here and there pieces of dilapidated wall
threatened to fall altogether, and enormous stems of ivy had invaded and
stifled vigorous trees; in the remoter portions of the park briers barred
the road and made walking almost impossible. This disorder was not
destitute of charm, and at an epoch when landscape gardening consisted
chiefly in straight alleys, and in giving to nature a cold and monotonous
symmetry, one's eye rested with pleasure on these neglected clumps, on
these waters which had taken a different course to that which art had
assigned to them, on these unexpected and picturesque scenes.

A wide terrace, overlooking the winding river, extended along the front
of the house. Three men were walking on it-two priests, and the owner of
Buisson-Souef, Monsieur de Saint-Faust de Lamotte. One priest was the
cure of Villeneuve-le-Roi-lez-Sens, the other was a Camaldulian monk, who
had come to see the cure about a clerical matter, and who was spending
some days at the presbytery. The conversation did not appear to be
lively. Every now and then Monsieur de Lamotte stood still, and, shading
his eyes with his hand from the brilliant sunlight which flooded the
plain, and was strongly reflected from the water, endeavoured to see if
some new object had not appeared on the horizon, then slowly resumed his
walk with a movement of uneasy impatience. The tower clock struck with a
noisy resonance.