We traveled very slowly, and stopped at every station mentioned in the time-table. Although these were devoid of travelers, the conductor opened the doors of all the carriages, and after waiting the allotted time shouted mechanically, "En voiture," though there was absolutely no one to get in. I thought we never would arrive! All the little towns, once so thrifty and prosperous, are now hardly more than ruins. It is no wonder that this part of the country (Vincennes, St. Maur, Chenvières, etc.) is so destroyed, because it was all about here that the French, shut up in Paris, had made the most frequent sorties. Everything was terribly changed. Now my beautiful bridge is a thing of the past. There is one arch half in water and debris of stone and mortar on the shore. Henry and I, having no alternative, were obliged to walk from the station to the pontoon bridge, made, Henry said, in one night. I don't know about that; but what I do know is that the French blew up my bridge _in one night_. Then we made the whole distance to Petit Val on foot, passing by the châteaux of Ormesson, Chenvières, Grand Val, and Montalon. All the châteaux we passed are utterly abandoned, some quite in ruins; one can see, for instance, right through beautiful Grand Val, bereft of windows and doors. But worse was awaiting me! My heart sank within me when we came in sight of the _potager_, the glory of Petit Val, so renowned in its day for its fruits and vegetables. Now it is frightful to see! Its walls torn asunder; cannon put in its crenelated sides, dilapidated and destroyed; the garden filled with rubbish of all description. But, as though nature were protesting against all this disorder and neglect, the cherry-trees were placidly blossoming; the almond-trees, with their delicate pink flowers, filled the air with perfume: everything, in short, doing its part in spite of war and bloodshed. Your heart would ache if you could see the place as it is now. The porter's lodge is completely gutted, windowless and doorless, open to wind and weather. It seems strange to see a sentry-box stationed at the entrance of the park and a sentinel pacing to and fro. Henry gave the password, and we walked up the avenue toward the château. I will not weary you by trying to depict my feelings, but will leave you to imagine what they must have been. I looked in vain for the beautiful Lebanon cedar which, you remember, stood where my nightingale used to sing, on the broad lawn. Henry said that it had been the first tree that the Germans had cut down, and it had been lying there on the lawn just as it fell, where the soldiers could conveniently cut their fuel. Henry called my attention to a white flag flying on the chateau, which, at Paul's request, Count Bismarck had ordered to be put there.