LIFE IN A FRENCH CHATEAU.

New Zealand Graphic, Volume V, Issue 41, 11 October 1890, Page 3

LIFE IN A FRENCH CHATEAU.

I Mi OW does life go through all the long ] summer day ? Well, say that your i hostess is a Duchess — la Duchess | Belle-Veuve. In the morning, just j when the sun’s rays awaken you, there is brought a cup of tea or a cup j of coffee, as \ou may desire, and with .j it, if you have a bit of an appetite, t an egg and a piece of bread ami 1 ~~f butter or a roll. After that you . i dally away the morning houis dressr-' ~ 2 ' ing, wiiting letters, or reading the papers. About twelve o’clock you go down stairs. Here in the great big, beautiful library, a library rich in old books and with that curious smell of Russia leather that should pervade a library, you meet the rest of the people. About half-past twelve comes the dejeuner a la fourchette. The table would delight the eye of an artist. On it there is no cover—the mahogany glittering and reflecting things like a mirror. Little serviettes are placed here and there under the dishes, and fruits, such as you can get only in Fiance, are piled high up in silver baskets and bowls, while there is a beautiful display of glass ami china. First, of course, you are served with eggs. Cooked how ? Well, only the chef knows, but you may be certain that every day foi a month they are cooked in some more different ami moie intricate way. After that follow the usual courses that would be served at an elaborate lunch. LEISURE AND PLEASURE. Then we all drift into the salon : this is a long, beautifully furnished loom, having special parts of it dedicated to special nationalities, and about which, prettily enough, the women dispose themselves, if they think their go.vn.- are in order. A young American girl, who is in her tennis get-up, is sitting stiffly on a quaint old chair that might have been carved for a father confessor ; an Englishwoman with hair like the raven's wing (by the bye, why do we ever say that? Whoever sees a raven close enough to know just the colour of his wing?), and who is picturesque in a white gown, has gone off into an alcove, where a Moorish effect is produced by the use of deep, rich colours, while the hostess herself, dressed in a muslin, is seated on a sprigged couch that certainly must have been made in the days of Louis XIV. Now everybody is arranging what they will do with themselves. Some to drive, some to play tennis, some very energetic souls to show their skill at cricket, learned from the English tutor, and some men, on scientific turn bent, to show what expert billiardises they are. So you do what yon please. You can gossip about the fashions or you can read the history of the old house. You can gain strength and health batting with the tennis or cricket balls, or you can diive out behind a wonderful pair of ponies managed by the most beautiful of Parisiennes and visit a neighbouring chateau. FIVE O’CLOCK TEA. Five o’clock brings everybody together again to have tea and see the children. Tea is really tea, nothing being served with it but Inead and butter, some simple cake and a little fruit. The hostess is in a Japanese get-up, for Pierre Loti has made the Japanese craze spread afresh, and the amber-hued beverage is served at a quaint little table from under a huge Japanese umbrella that occupies one corner of the <1 rawing-room. Everybody has something to tell about what has happened since they last met, and the something to tell when it comes from a French brain is always interesting. The children are simply dressed ami pleasant plump little dots. They are handed about something after the fashion of sugar plums, and are ready for a romp or a play with whoever may be ready to romp with them. This is the time when les fowreww/zrex are forgotten that is, in their disagreeable sense, for a Frenchwoman never forgets to be polite under any circumstances. When she is young she has grace of manner and wonderful tact by inheritance ; as she grows older it is all increased, until it is marvellous, from experience. GOSSIP OF A DINNER. Seven o’clock finds the place deserted, everybody is dressing for dinner, and eight o’clock sees lovely women in most beautiful frocks and mten in immaculate dress suits seated at a table that would have delighted the eyes of Lucullns. The dinner is more than elaborate, but the amount of gold, silver, line glass, and china on the table makes it notonly ajoy forever, but to the English eye possessed of special value--a value counted by it fai beyond the beauty. After your soup and fish you begin t<» talk with your neighbour. She tells you this funny little story anent a famous beauty, who had been betrothed to her husband before she ever met him. Said she : ‘ I was a little under the weather, and so when she called I had to ask her to come to my boudoir. (hi my writing desk stood a picture of my husband, one he had given me when I first met him, ami which was framed very gorgeously in silver. After she had talked about herself

awhile she went over to this picture, gave it the nust loving look, ami said, “Ah ! he had that taken for me !" Angry ? Of course I was angry, but my native wit didn't desert me. I waited fora few minutes after saying, “ Did he?" And then I reached out and got a little case from the table just beside me, opened it, and showed her the picture inside. It was the lieads <>f my husband ami myself taken to gether on our wedding trip, and then I announced, “He had that taken for me." 1 don t think she will bore me again. \ou eouldn t help but laugh, it was such an womanly thing to do.