Château Moncontour
Exhausted from the ascent, Honoré stopped at the summit of Vouvray’s première côte, surrounded by a sea of vines with the waters of the Loire now some distance below. He had never enjoyed wonderful health, the frailty he had experienced as a boy – he had once been sent home from school “in a sort of coma” – seemed to have continued on into adulthood. Even so, the climb had taken more of a toll than he had expected, and he paused here for some time, his respiratory rate gradually declining as he did so, the slightly dizzy feeling passing just as quickly as it had come.
The great river below was a fabulous sight, but this was not the reason Honoré had made the climb. Rather it was the château that sat before him, a pretty affair with glistening grey-white walls, its pointed roofs sparkling under the sun’s rays, that had induced him to begin the ascent. Any regret that he had made the ascent was now evaporating as quickly as the beads of sweat from his brow, as this was a truly beautiful building. But this was no mere sight-seeing trip. Honoré was on the hunt for country lodgings, his dream being to spend his winters in Paris, but to pass his summers breathing in the tranquil air of the French countryside. The château (pictured) was called Moncontour, and Honoré had already fallen in love with it.
Please log in to continue reading: