Nothing could be more nobly picturesque than the outside of Chillon. Its
base is beaten by the waves of the lake, to which it presents wide
masses of irregularly curving wall, pierced by narrow windows, and
surmounted by Mansard-roofs. Wild growths of vines and shrubs break the
broad surfaces of the wall, and out of the shoulders of one of the
towers springs a tall young fir-tree. The water at its base is intensely
blue and unfathomably deep. This is what nature has done; as for men,
they have hugely painted the lakeward wall of the castle with the arms
of the Canton Vaud, which are nearly as ugly as the arms of Ohio; and
they have wrought into the roof of the tallest tower with tiles of a
paler tint the word "Chillon," so that you cannot possibly mistake it
for any other castle.
[Illustration: _One of the Fountains_]