"I've always been so happy," Adrienne said almost apologetically; "but then my circumstances have been bright. If I were Aunt Cecily, I dare say I should be quite as miserable, for I'm perfectly certain I should cling to this old Château as she does. I think it's quite enchanting. I love every bit of it—the waxed floors, the wood fires, the big spacious rooms; the blue shutters, and windows down to the floor, and the mellow colour of its wood and decorations. And outside it the chestnut avenue and the gardens and the wood, and the darling little village! It all bewitches me. I long to be able to spend money on it, and give Aunt Cecily a happy old age in it." "You and I will work to do the last bit; but unless our good notary departs this life, the spending money on it will be a problem." Then he pointed to a distant Château, and began to give her some historic reminiscences of the part through which they were riding. When later they were returning through the village, he showed her the little white house in which Agatha lived. "I will introduce you to her one day. She's altered my whole view of life. She did it three years ago when I was home. I was hopeless, was surrounded by a maze of intricate obstacles and intrigues, and was just about washing my hands of the whole concern, and going off to the wilds again, when I struck against her." "How wonderful she must be!" said Adrienne. "You've only to be with her for half an hour to feel her power—or," he added in a low voice, "the Power that dwells with her. That's what she considers it. You wouldn't imagine a little peasant girl in an out-of-way village like this could have any influence on men, would you? Yet I've seen the biggest blackguard in the place on his knees before her, and her little hands laid softly on his head. And not only has he been reduced to tears, but sent off to the Curé, and then to make restitution to the one he has wronged." They had reached the Château; then, as she was dismounting, Adrienne said: "I wonder if Aunt Cecily rides? It is such a good receipt for the dumps. And if she doesn't ride, isn't there a carriage for her?" "There's an old pony chaise in the coach-house, I believe. Get her out and about by all means." Adrienne found plenty to employ her hands that morning, but she sang as she worked, and met her aunt with a sunny face. The Countess scouted the idea of driving out in the pony chaise. "I hire the car from the inn when I need it—the one that met you at the station. I ought to have one of my own, of course. Madame Bouverie rolls about in her Daimler, but it is the lower classes who ride now. We walk. I have asked my friend Madame Nicholas to tea this afternoon. We will have it on the terrace." "I hope I shan't disgrace you by my French," said Adrienne. "Oh, she understands and speaks English; she is much in England, for a sister of hers lives there."