The mid-Victorian spinster was gone, the automobile was come, the much expanded Hôtel de l'Univers was quiet no more and had abandoned the table d'hôte for small tables when next I saw Chenonceaux. Eager as I had been to return to it, still more did I desire to enjoy that particular pleasure which one takes in introducing a scene one delights in to a friend. We were, this time, as we had been the first time, a party of three, and the day was July 4, 1914; but in the Cathedral of Bourges that morning, and at Montrichard and along the Cher that forenoon, firecrackers seemed remote. Later, the Hôtel de l'Univers had illuminations and national melodies for the benefit of its American patrons--these having now swelled to the lucrative proportions of invasion.
But Chenonceaux hadn't changed, Chenonceaux looked just as young as ever. Its bright, serene aspect showed no confusion at changing masters so often. To my friends it more than fulfilled my promises for it, while for me it was even fairer than my memory. The concierge, a woman this time, told her band of sightseers enough, but much less than she knew. She had acquired (one somehow divined and discerned) a certain scorn for her sightseers. She had found (one saw) the affluent automobile to be the chariot of well-informed stomachs, but seldom of intelligences which had ever heard, or would ever care to hear, about Madame Dupin and her many distinguished guests. They knew their Michelin, where to buy _pétrol_ along the road, which roads to avoid; and the road they had particularly avoided was the one conducting to civilization. Some of them were present on this occasion with their goggles, their magenta veils, and their brass voices. To these the concierge imparted what she deemed them able to digest. She didn't mention the _Devin du Village_--but I did! This brought an immediate _rapprochement_, as we lingered with her behind the departing goggles. She knew and loved her Chenonceaux; her scorn fell from her; but she told us nothing so interesting as the fact that during the last twelvemonth _twenty thousand_ visitors had given each their required franc to see the place. The château, at this rate, will pay its way down the ages.