Deep in the shade of the park, in a hidden bend of a path enclosed by dense foliage, six guests have gathered around a large stone urn – as if it were a table stumbled upon by chance: three ladies in wide-brimmed hats on the left, a younger woman closer to the urn, a moustached, bearded gentleman in a peaked cap and uniform-style jacket, and two more ladies on the right. All around – only thick shrubs and tall trees; no sign of the palace or of any main path, as though the group had found a corner entirely their own, cut off from the rest of the world.
This is another "surprise" of Édouard André's landscape park, much like the artificial grotto (exhibits No. 59–60): in contrast to the strictly geometric parterre by the palace, winding shaded paths led guests through the thicket to unexpected, cosy nooks perfect for sitting down – and for having one's picture taken. The park is still full of such enchanting corners today: every bend in the path opens onto a new, distinctly photogenic view.
The stiff, formally posed faces suddenly come alive in the animation – one by one, all six break into smiles and wave straight at the camera, as if they had just spotted an old friend. The photograph's formality dissolves into a cheerful, almost modern gesture — a reminder that the urge to dress in one's finest and have a picture taken in a favourite corner of the garden has not changed in over a hundred years.