reached the summit, and after passing through the very quaint village
that had perched on this height for many centuries, we rang the bell
at the priest's tiny door. The castle overhung his miniature garden and
house; both were built under the shadow of the crumbling walls and the
sinking, almost tottering, red stone towers. A great peace seemed to
emanate from those aerie ruins, and a deep silence reigned there.

The dinners given by the old priest, to which several of the
notabilities of the neighborhood were invited, always lasted very long.
The ten or fifteen courses had an accompaniment of the ripest fruits and
the choicest wines of that country so excelling in exquisite vintages.

For several hours we remained at the table afflicted by the August or
September midday heat, and I, the only child in the company, became very
restless; I was disturbed by the thought of the crushing nearness of the
castle, and after the second course I would ask to be permitted to leave
the table. An old serving-woman used always to go with me and open the
outer door in the wall of the feudal ramparts of Castelnau; then she
confided the keys of the stately ruin to me, and I plunged alone, with
a delicious feeling of fear, into the familiar path, and passed through
the gate of the drawbridge superposed on the ramparts.

There I might remain for an hour or two sure of not being disturbed; I
was at liberty to wander about in that labyrinth, and I was master in
the majestic but sad domain. Oh! the sweet memory of the reveries that
I have had there! . . . First I would make a tour about the terraces
overhanging the forest lying below; a panorama infinitely beautiful
unrolled itself to my sight; rivers winding here and there in the
distance looked like streams of silver; and, aided by the clear and
limpid summer atmosphere, I could see almost as far as the neighboring