66 A MONTH IN THE FORESTS OP FRANCE. 



in readiness^ I again opened my casement on the 

 still, balmy, star- lit night, and imagined that the 

 sweet warm air that sighed up to me through the 

 flowers was the breath of lips then hushed in far-off, 

 and perhaps, in deep repose. I used to pass many an 

 hour of the night at this casement, the gloom of 

 the landscape inducing me to think that gaunt wolves 

 were prowling about close to me ; but still, if as a 

 faithful historian I must confess the truth, my eyes 

 were oftener cast upon the skies to gaze on 

 those constellations that so perpetually seemed a 

 changeless method of communication, wherever I 

 was, between me and all I held most dear. 



The next morning, at an early hour, in came the 

 servant Francois with my hot water and an announce- 

 ment of the hour. Some amusing scenes used at 

 first to occur between us ; for I fear my French, in 

 regard to the laundry and the appellations of dress, 

 &c., was somewhat of the oddest sort. However, in 

 he came, and I was very soon revelling in cold 

 water ; and then, fully equipped, I presented myself 

 at the breakfast-table. 



A French breakfast-table at a chateau, when an 

 Englishman sees it for the first time, makes him 

 imagine that the day is reversed in its orgies, and that 

 in the morning he is about to sit down to his dinner. 



