The Chateau of Cernay is a vast and beautiful structure of the time of Louis XIII.  A walled park of a hundred acres surrounds it, with trees centuries old.  A white painted gate separates the avenue from the road leading to Pontoise by way of Conflans.  A carpet of grass, on which carriages roll as if on velvet, leads up to the park gates.  Before reaching, it there is a stone bridge which spans the moat of running water.  A lodge of stone, faced with brick, with large windows, rises at each corner of this space.

The chateau, surrounded by cleverly arranged trees, stands in the centre, on a solid foundation of red granite from the Jura.  A splendid double staircase leads to the ground floor as high as an ‘entresol’.  A spacious hall, rising to the roof of the building, lighted by a window filled with old stained glass, first offers itself to the visitor.  A large organ, by Cavallie-Col, rears its long brilliant pipes at one end of the hall to a level with the gallery of sculptured wood running round and forming a balcony on the first floor.  At each corner is a knight in armor, helmet on head, and lance in hand, mounted on a charger, and covered with the heavy trappings of war.  Cases full of objects of art of great value, bookshelves containing all the new books, are placed along the walls.  A billiard-table and all sorts of games are lodged under the vast staircase.  The broad bays which give admission to the reception-rooms and grand staircase are closed by tapestry of the fifteenth century, representing hunting scenes.  Long cords of silk and gold loop back these marvellous hangings in the Italian style.  Thick carpets, into which the feet sink, deaden the sound of footsteps.  Spacious divans, covered with Oriental materials, are placed round the room.

Over the chimney-piece, which is splendidly carved in woodwork, is a looking-glass in the Renaissance style, with a bronze and silver frame, representing grinning fawns and dishevelled nymphs.  Benches are placed round the hearth, which is large enough to hold six people.  Above the divans, on the walls, are large oil-paintings by old masters.  An “Assumption,” by Jordaens, which is a masterpiece; “The Gamesters,” by Valentin; “A Spanish Family on Horseback,” painted by Velasquez; and the marvel of the collection—­a “Holy Family,” by Francia, bought in Russia.  Then, lower down, “A Young Girl with a Canary,” by Metzu; a “Kermesse,” by Braurver, a perfect treasure, glitter, like the gems they are, in the midst of panoplies, between the high branches of palm-trees planted in enormous delft vases.  A mysterious light filters into that fresh and picturesque apartment through the stained-glass windows.

From the hall the left wing is reached, where the reception-rooms are, and one’s eyes are dazzled by the brightness which reigns there.  It is like coming out from a cathedral into broad daylight.  The furniture, of gilt wood and Genoese velvet, looks very bright.  The walls are white and gold; and flowers are everywhere.  At the end is Madame Desvarennes’s bedroom, because she does not like mounting stairs, and lives on the ground floor.  Adjoining it is a conservatory, furnished as a drawing-room, and serving as a boudoir for the mistress of the house.