the straight and narrow path, hoping they would be brought to see, by Divine grace, the error of their ways, I was horrified, and could hardly refrain from expressing my opinion to the old people.  However, I was learning prudence, and when my opinion and judgment were diametrically opposed to those of my new family (which happened often) I kept them to myself.  Sunday was strictly kept.  There was no Protestant church anywhere near.  We had a service in the morning in M. A.’s library.  He read prayers and a short sermon, all the household appearing, as most of the servants were Swiss and Protestants.  In the afternoon Mme. A. had all the village children at the chateau.  She had a small organ in one of the rooms in the wing of the dining-room, taught them hymns and read them simple little stories.  The cure was rather anxious at first, having his little flock under such a dangerous heretic influence, but he very soon realized what an excellent thing it was for the children, and both he and the mothers were much disappointed when anything happened to put off the lesson.  They didn’t see much of the cure.  He would pay one formal visit in the course of the year, but there was never any intimacy.

We lived much for ourselves, and for a few months in the year it was a rest and change from Paris, and the busy, agitated life, social and political, that one always led there.  I liked the space, too, the great high, empty rooms, with no frivolous little tables and screens or stuff on the walls, no photograph stands nor fancy vases for flowers, no bibelot of any kind—­large, heavy pieces of furniture which were always found every morning in exactly the same place.  Once or twice, in later years, I tried to make a few changes, but it was absolutely useless to contend with a wonderful old servant called Ferdinand, who was over sixty years old, and had been brought up at the chateau, had always remained there with the various owners, and who knew every nook and corner of the house and everything that was in it.  It was years before I succeeded in talking to him.  I used to meet him sometimes on the stairs and corridors, always running, and carrying two or three pails and brooms.  If he could, he dived into any open door when he saw me coming, and apparently never heard me when I spoke, for he never answered.  He was a marvellous servant, cleaned the whole house, opened and shut all the windows night and morning (almost work enough for one man), lit the caloriferes, scrubbed and swept and polished floors from early dawn until ten o’clock, when we left the salon.  He never lived with the other servants, cooked his own food at his own hours in his room, and his only companion was a large black cat, which always followed him about.  He did W.’s service, and W. said that they used to talk about all sorts of things, but I fancy master and servant were equally reticent and understood each other without many words.