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Saint Hibaut, situated in a wild country, surrounded by lonely heaths and deep ravines, and water-courses whose sides are covered by almost impenetrable thickets, was at the time I speak of, that is to say, when I was eighteen years of age, the property of Monsieur de Cheribalde, the most intrepid, determined and ardent sportsman, who ever winded a horn, wore a huntsman's knife, or whistled a dog.
Castle of Bazoche Maréchal de Vauban Relics of the old Marshal Memorials of Philipsburg Hôtel de Bazarne Madame de Pompadour's maître d'hôtel Proof of the curés' grief Farm of St. Hibaut Youthful recollections Monsieur de Cheribalde Navarre the Four-Pounder His culverin.
Well do I remember, when the shadows of those winter evenings lengthened, when nightfall came, and when at last the moon arose, bringing out in light and shade every object within the court-yard, and at some distance from the house, then it was that Monsieur de Cheribalde went his rounds.
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