There was a double ring of trees in one corner of our domain, enclosing the salle de verdure, or outdoor drawing-room.  In the center of this enchanted circle there was a statue by Clodion, a joyous nymph, holding a baby faun in her arms.  There were several old stone benches under the trees that must have known the secrets of the famous ladies of the Eighteenth Century courts.  The salle de verdure looked just as it did when the little daughters of Louis XV came here to have their afternoon cakes and tea, so we did not try to change this bit of our garden.

My idea of making over the place was to leave the part of the garden against the stone walls in the rear in its tangled, woodsy state, and to build against it a trellis that would be in line with the terrace.  Between the trellis and the terrace there was to be a smooth expanse of greensward, bordered with flowers.  It seemed very simple, but I hereby confess that I built and tore down the trellis three times before it pleased me!  I had to make it worthy of the statue by Pradier that was given us by Sardou, and finally it was done to please me.  Painted a soft green, with ivy growing over it, and a fountain flanked by white marbles outlined against it, this trellis represents (to me, at least) my best work.

The tapis vert occupies the greater part of the garden, and it is bordered by gravel walks bordered in turn with white flowerbeds.  Between the walks and the walls there are the groups of trees, the statues with green spaces about them, the masses of evergreen trees, and finally the great trees that follow the lines of the wall.  Indeed, the tapis vert is like the arena of an ample theater, with the ascending flowers and shrubs and trees representing the ascending tiers of seats.  One feels that all the trees and flowers look down upon the central stretch of greensward, and perhaps there is a fairy ring here where plays take place by night.  Nothing is impossible in this garden.  Certainly the fairies play in the enchanted ring of the trees of the salle de verdure.  We are convinced of that.

So formal is the tapis vert, with its blossoming borders of larkspur and daisies and its tall standard roses, you are surprised to find that that part of the garden outside this prim rectangle has mysteries.  There are winding paths that terminate in marble seats.  There is the pavilion, a little house built for outdoor musicales, with electric connections that make breakfast and tea possible here.  There is the guest house, and the motor house—­quite as interesting as any other part of the garden.  And everywhere there are blue and white and rose-colored flowers, planted in great masses against the black-green evergreens.