The rooms were constructed and arranged in the style common in French palaces. They were situated in the line of building which formed the front of the chateau; and on the front side of each of them were windows looking out upon the lake. Of course these windows formed the range of windows in the second story of the principal front of the edifice.
On the back side of each of these rooms was a door communicating with the gallery behind them, or with some subordinate apartments depending upon them.
Besides these doors, there were others which connected the different apartments of the suite with each other. These doors were all in a line, and they were near the side of the room where the windows were which looked out upon the lake. Thus one could pass through the whole suite of apartments by walking along from one to another through these doors, passing thus just in front of the range of windows.
The rooms were all beautifully furnished in the French style. There were richly carved cabinets and book cases, and splendid mirrors, and sofas and chairs, and paintings and statues. One room was the library. Another was a bedroom. In one there were several portraits on the wall. Mr. and Mrs. Holiday seemed particularly interested in examining these portraits. One represented Madame de Stael herself; another, her father, Monsieur Necker; a third, her mother, Madame Necker. Besides these, there were some others of the family.
Rollo looked at all these portraits, as his father requested him to do; but he was more interested in two other objects which stood on a table in the same room. These objects were two little figures, one representing a horse and the other a lamb. These figures were under a glass. The horse was about a foot long, and the lamb about six inches. The horse was of a very pretty form, and was covered with hair, like a living animal. The lamb in the same manner was covered with wool. Indeed, they were both in all respects models of the animals they represented in miniature.
Rollo asked the concierge what they were.
"Ah," said he, "those are models of a favorite horse and a favorite lamb that belonged to Monsieur Necker. When they died he was very sorry; and he had these models of them made, to perpetuate the memory of them."
After this, in other rooms, the party were shown the table at which Madame de Stael sat in writing Corinne, and the inkstand that she used; and when they went down stairs, the concierge showed them into a large hall, which was situated directly below the rooms they had been visiting, where he said Madame de Stael used to have her dramas performed from time to time before an audience of friends and visitors from the neighborhood.
At length the concierge conducted the party to the door where they had come in. There Mr. Holiday, after giving him a franc, thanked him for his politeness, and bade him good bye. The party took a little walk in the garden, and then returned to the carriage and rode away.
The bodies of Monsieur Necker and of his daughter lie buried in a little grove of trees near the house. The party saw the grove, but visitors are not allowed to go to the graves.
On leaving the chateau, the carriage turned off from the lake, and took a road that led back more into the interior.
"What are we going to see next, father?" said Rollo.
"We are going to see the house where the famous philosopher, Voltaire, lived," replied Mr. Holiday; "though on the way we are going to see a fountain and cascade."
"Is there any thing very remarkable about the fountain?" asked Rollo.
"I don't know," said Mr. Holiday; "only it is mentioned in the guide books as worth being visited."
So the carriage drove on through a very beautiful country, with fields, and gardens, and country seats, and ancient chateaux bordering the way. From time to time, Rollo, on looking back, obtained splendid views of the lake behind him, and of the gently-sloping and highly-cultivated shore on the opposite side, with the snowy range of the Alps beyond, shining in the sun.
At length they arrived at a village, and stopped before an inn. The postilion said that they were to stop there with the carriage, and go to the fountain on foot.
"I will call some one to show you the way," said he.
So he went to one of the houses across the street, and called a woman of the village, and she said that she would go to the school and call her boy.
"But it is a pity," said Mr. Holiday, "to take the boy away from his school."
"O, no," said the woman; "that is nothing at all."
So she ran along the street of the village until she came to the school house, and presently she returned with the boy. He had a book in his hand. Rollo looked at the book, and found that it was a grammar. The covers of it were worn, and the leaves tumbled, and the beginning and end of it were filled with names scribbled on the blank pages, and rude drawings, which made it look exactly like the school books of idle boys, as Rollo had often seen them in America.
Rollo gave back the book to the boy, and the boy gave it to his mother, and then he began walking along the road, to show the party the way to the fountain.
He led them out of the village, and along the pleasant road, until at length they came to a place where there was an open gateway, through which they could see the beautiful grounds of a large country house, which appeared like a hotel. There were ladies and gentlemen walking about the grounds, along the margin of a large stream of water, or sitting in groups under the trees.
"What place is that?" said Rollo to the boy.
"It is a place of baths," said the boy.
Rollo wished to go in there and see the grounds; but the boy walked on, and so Rollo followed him. After a time the guide turned off into a field, and there took a path which led down toward a wood, where they could hear water running. When they came into the wood they saw the water. It was a large stream, large enough for a mill stream, and it ran foaming and tumbling down over its rocky bed in a very picturesque manner.
The walk led along the bank of the stream, under the trees. It was a wide and very pleasant walk, and was well gravelled. Here and there there were little seats, too, at pretty places formed by the windings of the glen.
After walking along a little way, and not coming to any thing more, Mrs. Holiday began to be tired.
"I wonder," said she, "if there is any thing remarkable to see at the end of this path."
"I'll ask the boy," said Rollo.
"Boy," he added, speaking to the little guide, "what is there to see up here?"
"It is this," said the boy, pointing to the brook.
"Isn't there any thing else besides this stream?" asked Rollo.
"No," said the boy.
"He says there is not any thing else," said Rollo to his mother; "and so I don't believe it is worth while to go any farther. We have seen this brook enough, and you will get very tired."
Mrs. Holiday sat down upon a green bench that happened to be near, at a turn of the stream, in order to take time to consider the question.
Mr. Holiday sat down beside her.
"We will wait here, Rollo, while you go on with the boy, and see what you can find. I think there must be something or other remarkable, for they would not make so good a path as this to lead to nothing at all. You may go on with the boy, and see what it comes to, and then you can come back and tell us."
Rollo liked this plan very much, and so he and the boy walked on.
In about five minutes Mr. Holiday heard Rollo calling to him.
"FA-THER! FA-THER!" said he.
"Well," said Mr. Holiday, "I hear."
"Come up here," said Rollo, calling out again. "It is a very curious place indeed."