I passed through the outer and then the inner gateway, and, in
my search for a human being, accident led me to the kitchen, which was very
large and entirely paved with pebbles. Here I found the cook, who, I had
been told, was the only person in authority at that time. Surrounded by
four great walls, on which hung utensils that were rarely handled except
for the periodical scouring, she looked as solemn as a cloistered nun. She
consented, however, to show me the interior of the castle, with a pathetic
readiness which said that the appearance of an occasional visitor kept her
from sinking into hopeless melancholy.
[Illustration: CHATEAU DE FENELON.]
The most interesting room is the one in which Fenelon slept. Here is to be
seen his four-post bedstead, each of the posts a slender twisted column,
the silk hangings and fringe looking very worn and faded after being
exposed to the light of over two hundred years. Adjoining this room is the
_salle a manger_, the immense hearth, with seats at the ingle corners,
being covered by an elliptical arch. Most of the furniture here and
elsewhere is of massive oak, carved in the style of the seventeenth and
eighteenth centuries.
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