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Updated: May 8, 2025
Before I quite realized the situation, we were inside, in a square courtyard, with the gardienne's lodge at the right of us, impenetrably barred and shuttered, and before us the portal of the castle, surmounted with quaint stone carvings of men in armor riding prancing steeds. The court, as revealed by the moonlight, was intact, but neglected.
The sound of subdued voices came from the archway below us, and one of these, from an occasional excited and feminine note, I thought to be the gardienne's. Monsieur de St. Gre thrust back his chair, and in three strides was at the edge of the gallery. "Auguste!" he cried. Silence. "Auguste, come up to me at once," he said in French.
The sound of subdued voices came from the archway below us, and one of these, from an occasional excited and feminine note, I thought to be the gardienne's. Monsieur de St. Gre thrust back his chair, and in three strides was at the edge of the gallery. "Auguste!" he cried. Silence. "Auguste, come up to me at once," he said in French.
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