Beyond that lay the
province of Berry, which was to be the scene of our operations. Some
leagues to the northeast, crowning a rocky eminence that rose from the
left bank of the Creuse, stood a mass of grim-looking towers and high
gray walls. From the southern side of this edifice, a small town ran down
the declivity to the plain.
"What is that place yonder?" I asked.
"It is the town and chateau of Clochonne," said Frojac.
"Who occupies the chateau?"
"It belongs to M. de la Chatre, the governor of the province, who
sometimes comes there. A part of it is occupied by a garrison."
We resumed our progress through the forest, now descending the northern
slope of the ridge. After some hours, when night was already beginning to
fall in the woods, Frojac pointed ahead to a knoll covered with huge
trees between whose trunks the space was choked with lesser vegetation.
"There it is," he said. "The Chateau de Maury."
We made our way through the thicket, and came suddenly upon ruined walls,
rising in the midst of trees. Wild growths of various kinds filled up
what had been the courtyard, and invaded the very doors. The broken walls
and cracked towers themselves seemed as much a part of nature as the
trees and bushes were. Branches thrust themselves through apertures in
the crumbling stone. Southward from the foot of the knoll rose the
mountains, eastward and westward extended an undulating natural platform
that interrupted the descent of the mountain side.
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