midday
At our feet the river went dancing along in a sweeping blue curve , its left bank clothed with rich vineland , and on its right a belt of forest -- the outskirts of the forest of Chinon -- which stretched , a sea of green , grey , and dim , mysterious purples , to the far-distant Loire . There , on its wooded height , the pentice roofs glistening in the sunlight , stood Chinon , with its triple castle , so full of the memories of history ; and all around spread the wide Tourangeais . `` Tourangeaux , Angevins Bons esprits et bons vins , '' sang Capus , grizzled old war-dog though he was , and , the spirit of the morning seizing us , we urged our horses down the slope , and scurried through the forest towards Chinon . After a little we slackened pace and went on slowly , until , towards midday , when about half a league -- or perhaps less -- from Chinon , we came upon a roadside inn , all covered with climbing roses in bloom , whilst the air was full of the cooing of numberless pigeons that circled around and perched upon a dovecote that looked like a tower . Here mademoiselle stopped , declaring that she would travel no farther that day ; and accordingly , having made arrangements for our accommodation , I walked out with Diane into a long , straggling garden that lay at the back of the house . At the extreme end of the garden was a summer-house , and on entering this we found it occupied by an old man , who sat reading therein . We were about to draw back , but he rose , leaning upon a stout stick , and very courteously invited us to be seated .