Near the south transept he found a small door: it was the bishop’s private entrance. Lindet pushed it, and the door yielded. He found himself in a small cloister leading to the palace. The lights were brighter, and the music louder. They issued from the palace garden, of which the priest obtained a full view. The garden occupied the whole south side of the Cathedral, and was well laid out in swath and flowers. A beautiful avenue of limes extended the whole length of the garden, above the broad moat which separated the palace precincts on the south from the city. This moat has been turned into a kitchen-garden in our own day, but in that of which we are writing it was full of water. The avenue, therefore, formed a terrace above a broad belt of water, not stagnant, as in many moats, but kept fresh by a stream flowing through it. The modern traveller visiting Évreux, should on no account fail to walk on the city side of this old moat, for from it he will obtain the most striking view of the magnificent Cathedral and the ancient picturesque palace, rising above the lime-trees. A couple of lines of young trees have been planted, and the half-street turned into a boulevard; but in 1788, this side of the moat was bare of trees, and a row of tall houses faced the water, with only a paved road between, and a dwarf wall pierced at intervals with openings to steps that descended to the moat, where all day long women soaped and beat dirty clothes, with much diligence, and more noise. Lindet found the garden brilliantly illuminated. Lamps were affixed to the old walls of the Cathedral, and traced some of its most prominent features with lines of coloured fire. The statues which, in imitation of Versailles, the bishop had set up in his flower-garden, held lanterns. A pond of gold-fish, in the centre of the sward, surrounded a vase, in which burned strontian and spirits of wine, casting a red glare into the water, and producing a wild contrast to the calm white moonlight that lay in flakes upon the gravelled walks. The avenue was, however, the centre of light. In it tables were laid, brilliant with candelabra supporting wax candles, and with coloured lanthorns slung between the trees, and lamps attached to every trunk. At intervals also were suspended brass rings, sustaining twenty candles. Wreaths of artificial flowers, banners, mirrors, statues holding lights, transparencies, occupied every conceivable spot and space, and transformed the quiet old lime avenue into a fairy-land palace. The tables were laden with exquisite viands in silver, and glittered with metal and glass. The higher end of the tables was towards the west, and a daïs, crimson carpeted, raised a step above the soil, supported the board at which sat the prince, the bishop, and all the most illustrious of the guests.