But neither happiness nor innocence was suggested by the look of the
Chateau itself, as it stood bathed in bright sunshine. Its great
doors were close-shut in the face of all the beauty of the world
without. Its mullioned windows, that should have stood wide open to
let in the radiance and freshness of morning, were closely blinded,
like eyes wickedly shut against God's light that beat upon them,
vainly seeking entrance.
Outside all was still: the song of birds and the rustle of leaves
alone met the ear. Neither man nor beast was stirring to challenge
Colonel Philibert's approach, but long ere he reached the door of
the Chateau, a din of voices within, a wild medley of shouts, song,
and laughter, a clatter of wine-cups, and pealing notes of violins
struck him with amazement and disgust. He distinguished drunken
voices singing snatches of bacchanalian songs, while now and then
stentorian mouths called for fresh brimmers, and new toasts were
drunk with uproarious applause.
The Chateau seemed a very pandemonium of riot and revelry, that
prolonged the night into the day, and defied the very order of
nature by its audacious disregard of all decency of time, place, and
circumstance.
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