I noticed that he trod carefully, not to wake the sleeper; he also spoke low: his mellow voice never had any sharpness in it; modulated as at present, it was calculated rather to soothe than startle slumber.
"This is a quiet little chateau," he observed, after inviting me to sit near the casement.

"I don't know whether you may have noticed it in your walks: though, indeed, from the chaussee it is not visible; just a mile beyond the Porte de Crecy, you turn down a lane which soon becomes an avenue, and that leads you on, through meadow and shade, to the very door of this house.

It is not a modern place, but built somewhat in the old style of the Basse-Ville.

It is rather a manoir than a chateau; they call it 'La Terrasse,' because its front rises from a broad turfed walk, whence steps lead down a grassy slope to the avenue.

See yonder! The moon rises: she looks well through the tree-boles." Where, indeed, does the moon not look well?
What is the scene, confined or expansive, which her orb does not hallow?
Rosy or fiery, she mounted now above a not distant bank; even while we watched her flushed ascent, she cleared to gold, and in very brief space, floated up stainless into a now calm sky.