They sound so sad in the still air that
the expression, Ca sonne a Bouleurs, has come to mean bad luck. In all
the towns where the bell can be heard, a man who is having bad luck at
cards, or has made a bad bargain, or has been tricked in any way,
invariably remarks, "Ca sonne a Bouleurs."
I could show you something more modern in the way of historical
association. For example, from the road at the south side of my hill I
can show you the Chateau de la Haute Maison, with its mansard and Louis
XVI pavilions, where Bismarck and Favre had their first unsuccessful
meeting, when this hill was occupied by the Germans in 1870 during the
siege of Paris. And fifteen minutes' walk from here is the pretty
Chateau de Conde, which was then the home of Casimir-Perier, and if you
do not remember him as the President of the Republic who resigned rather
than face the Dreyfus case, you may remember him as the father-in-law of
Madame Simone, who unsuccessfully stormed the American theater, two
years ago.
You ask me how isolated I am. Well, I am, and I am not. My house
stands in the middle of my garden. That is a certain sort of isolation.
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