Leaving the château by the back entrance, and locking the door after them, they proceeded to find their way to the trout stream they could see in the distance from the upper windows of the château, winding through the fields and vineyards about half a mile from the house. It was very picturesque scenery surrounding the Château de Coulancourt; a bend of the river Seine, of a noble breadth, came within less than a mile of the mansion, and a splendid trout stream emptied itself into its broader waters. The country was also well timbered, and here and there were scattered several well-kept farms, considering the neglected way in which farming in general was attended to in France; the culture of the vine being a principal feature in all farms in that vicinity. The vine was as yet scarcely showing symptoms of vegetation; not that French vineyards in general are an object of either interest or beauty, the grape only growing to the height of four feet, and trained to a single stick. The Englishmen confined their rambles the first day merely to the trout stream, which was a remarkably picturesque one, and about five miles from the château, sometimes tumbling in rapid runs, at other times gliding along under steep banks overgrown with flowering plants, and wild cactus. Our hero was not a practised trout deceiver, but he could throw a fly sufficiently well to coax a middling-sized fish to make a fool of himself, to Bill’s surprise, who had watched his master’s proceedings with considerable amazement, having never seen a trout fly in his life, and had an idea in his head that his master must be a little cracked on the subject of catching fish, if he expected to entrap one with such a rum concern as an artificial fly seemed to him. To his astonishment, however, the Lieutenant sung out— “Now, Bill, I have him; make haste with the landing net, he’s over three pound weight.” “My eyes, where is he, sir?” exclaimed Bill, seeing the rod bent double, and no signs of a fish. “I am playing him a bit, Bill; he’s rather lively yet.” “Lord love your honour! Heave him out, I’ll take the liveliness out of him.” As he uttered the words, there was the report of a pistol and the prolonged scream of a female voice, which appeared to come out from a thicket near them, and through which they had observed ran a carriage road. Dropping his rod, regardless of the trout, who was, no doubt, exceedingly obliged, our hero ran towards the wood, followed by Bill with the landing net in his hand, wondering what sort of fish his master was now going to catch.