famous courtesan. Notice the beauty spot beneath her left eye, irrefutable proof of some sort of divine curse . . .
âWhatever you do donât miss the magnificent view from the terrace. On very windy days, you can just make out the towers of Saint-Roch . . .
âThis way, please. Mind the step.â
Â
Pinch me, I must be dreaming.
Â
The tourists stared attentively at the witchâs beauty spot, and asked him whether he was ever afraid at night.
âBy Jove, I have all I need to defend myself!â
With a broad swoop of his arm he took in armor, halberds, crossbows and other assorted clubs and bludgeons hanging in the stairway.
The visitors nodded gravely and cameras were raised.
Â
What on earth was this utter lunacy?
Â
When we walked by him as we left the room, his face lit up. Very discreetly, mind, a nod at most. The complicity of blood and long-standing affiliation.
The emblem of true nobility.
Â
Amidst helmets and harquebuses we collapsed in laughter, while he went on to enumerate the difficulties inherent in the maintenance of such a demesne . . . Four hundred square meters of roofing, two kilometers of gutters, thirty rooms, fifty-two windows and twenty-five fireplaces, butâno heating. Or electricity for that matter. And no running water, now that you mention it. Whence the difficulty, for your humble servant, in finding a fiancée . . .
The visitors were laughing.
Â
â . . . Here you have a very rare portrait of the Comte de Dunois. Notice the coat of arms, which you will also find sculpted on the pediment of the grand stairway in the northwest corner of the courtyard.
âWe are now entering a bedroom with an alcove that was furnished in the eighteenth century by my ancestor the marquise de La Lariotine, who came fox hunting in the region. Not only for foxes, alas . . . And my poor uncle, the marquis, had no cause to be jealous of the magnificent stag antlers I am sure you paused to admire in the dining room earlier on the tour . . . Do be careful, Madame, that is fragile. Now, I recommend you have a look in the little bathroom just here . . . The brushes, salt boxes and jars of ointment are all original . . . No, mademoiselle, that chamber pot is from the second half of the twentieth century and that is a container for absorbing humidity . . .
Â
â . . . Now we are coming to the most beautiful part of the château, the spiral staircase of the north wing with its superb annular barrel vault. A pure Renaissance masterpiece . . .
âPlease donât touchâtime is hard at work, and a thousand fingertips, I am sorry to say, can do all the damage of one tiny minerâs hammer . . . â
Â
I could not believe my ears.
Â
âUnfortunately I cannot show you the chapel, which is presently under restoration, but I beg you not to leave my modest dwelling until you have had a stroll through the grounds, where you cannot help but feel the strange vibrations coming from all these stones which, may I remind you, were brought here for the purpose of providing a refuge for the love of a man who was but a mere heartbeat from the throne, and who had been cruelly caught in the net of a wicked enchantress . . . â
Â
Murmurs in the audience.
Â
â . . . For those of you who are interested, near the exit to the grounds you can have your picture taken in a suit of armor, and that is also where you will find postcards and the restrooms.
Â
âI wish you all a pleasant day. May I remind you, ladies and gentlemen, please do not forget your guide. What am I sayingâguide! A poor man indentured to his estate! A privileged slave, who asks not for alms but merely a means of subsistence, until the Comte de Paris is restored to his rightful throne . . .
âThank you.
âThank you, Mesdames.
âDank u wel, Meneer . . . â
Â
We followed the group; he disappeared through a secret door.
The yokels were
âWhatever you do donât miss the magnificent view from the terrace. On very windy days, you can just make out the towers of Saint-Roch . . .
âThis way, please. Mind the step.â
Â
Pinch me, I must be dreaming.
Â
The tourists stared attentively at the witchâs beauty spot, and asked him whether he was ever afraid at night.
âBy Jove, I have all I need to defend myself!â
With a broad swoop of his arm he took in armor, halberds, crossbows and other assorted clubs and bludgeons hanging in the stairway.
The visitors nodded gravely and cameras were raised.
Â
What on earth was this utter lunacy?
Â
When we walked by him as we left the room, his face lit up. Very discreetly, mind, a nod at most. The complicity of blood and long-standing affiliation.
The emblem of true nobility.
Â
Amidst helmets and harquebuses we collapsed in laughter, while he went on to enumerate the difficulties inherent in the maintenance of such a demesne . . . Four hundred square meters of roofing, two kilometers of gutters, thirty rooms, fifty-two windows and twenty-five fireplaces, butâno heating. Or electricity for that matter. And no running water, now that you mention it. Whence the difficulty, for your humble servant, in finding a fiancée . . .
The visitors were laughing.
Â
â . . . Here you have a very rare portrait of the Comte de Dunois. Notice the coat of arms, which you will also find sculpted on the pediment of the grand stairway in the northwest corner of the courtyard.
âWe are now entering a bedroom with an alcove that was furnished in the eighteenth century by my ancestor the marquise de La Lariotine, who came fox hunting in the region. Not only for foxes, alas . . . And my poor uncle, the marquis, had no cause to be jealous of the magnificent stag antlers I am sure you paused to admire in the dining room earlier on the tour . . . Do be careful, Madame, that is fragile. Now, I recommend you have a look in the little bathroom just here . . . The brushes, salt boxes and jars of ointment are all original . . . No, mademoiselle, that chamber pot is from the second half of the twentieth century and that is a container for absorbing humidity . . .
Â
â . . . Now we are coming to the most beautiful part of the château, the spiral staircase of the north wing with its superb annular barrel vault. A pure Renaissance masterpiece . . .
âPlease donât touchâtime is hard at work, and a thousand fingertips, I am sorry to say, can do all the damage of one tiny minerâs hammer . . . â
Â
I could not believe my ears.
Â
âUnfortunately I cannot show you the chapel, which is presently under restoration, but I beg you not to leave my modest dwelling until you have had a stroll through the grounds, where you cannot help but feel the strange vibrations coming from all these stones which, may I remind you, were brought here for the purpose of providing a refuge for the love of a man who was but a mere heartbeat from the throne, and who had been cruelly caught in the net of a wicked enchantress . . . â
Â
Murmurs in the audience.
Â
â . . . For those of you who are interested, near the exit to the grounds you can have your picture taken in a suit of armor, and that is also where you will find postcards and the restrooms.
Â
âI wish you all a pleasant day. May I remind you, ladies and gentlemen, please do not forget your guide. What am I sayingâguide! A poor man indentured to his estate! A privileged slave, who asks not for alms but merely a means of subsistence, until the Comte de Paris is restored to his rightful throne . . .
âThank you.
âThank you, Mesdames.
âDank u wel, Meneer . . . â
Â
We followed the group; he disappeared through a secret door.
The yokels were
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