We passed by Luynes, whose steep hillside steps we shall mount some day to see the fine view of the river and valley from the outer walls and terrace of the chateau, as its doors are said to be inhospitable to those who wish to inspect the interior. This afternoon Langeais and Azay-le-Rideau are beckoning us, although we were tempted to stop for a nearer view of the strange Pile de Cinq Mars, which is, we are told, an unsolved architectural puzzle. The most probable explanation is that this lofty tower was once part of a signalling system, by beacon fires, which flamed messages along the valley, past Luynes to the Lantern of Rochecorbon and as far eastward as Amboise. Although there are the ruins of a castle of the same name quite near the Pile de Cinq Mars, the home of Henry d'Effiat, Marquis de Cinq Mars, seems to have been at Chaumont, where Alfred de Vigny placed the opening scenes of his novel. To compensate for our disappointing morning at Plessis-les-Tours, we had an entirely satisfactory afternoon at Langeais, where we beheld a veritable fortress of ancient times. At a first glance we were as much interested in the little gray town of Langeais, which is charmingly situated on the right bank of the Loire, as in the chateau itself, whose facade is gloomy and austere, a true mediaeval fortress, "with moat, drawbridge, and portcullis still in working order," as Walter expresses it. As we stood on the stone steps at the entrance between the great frowning towers waiting for the portcullis to be raised, we felt as if we might be in a Scott or Dumas novel, especially as our Quaker lady repeated in her own dramatic fashion: ". . . . And darest thou then To beard the lion in his den, The Douglas in his hall? And hopest thou hence unscathed to go? No, by Saint Bride of Bothwell, no! Up drawbridge, grooms--what, warder, ho! Let the portcullis fall." Lord Marmion turn'd,--well was his need,-- And dashed the rowels in his steed, Like arrow through the archway sprung, The ponderous gate behind him rung; To pass there was such scanty room, The bars, descending, razed his plume. [Illustration: ENTRANCE TO LANGEAIS, WITH DRAWBRIDGE] Fortunately for us the portcullis rose instead of falling, and so, with plumes unscathed, we passed through the doorway, and as if to add to the _vraisemblance_ of the situation and make us feel quite mediaeval, soldiers stood on each side of the entrance, apparently on guard, and it was not until after we had entered the chateau that we discovered them to be visitors like ourselves.