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 LIBRARY 
 
 umvewmr Of 
 
 CAUFOftNiA 
 
 SAN DIEGO

 
 PICTURES & LEGENDS 
 
 FROM 
 
 NORMANDY & BRITTANY
 
 I'lUi CATHEOKAL, VANNE.S.
 
 PICTURES AND LEGENDS 
 
 FROM 
 
 NORMANDY AND BRITTANY 
 
 BY 
 
 THOMAS AND KATHARINE MACQUOID 
 
 WITH THIRTY-FOUR ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS 
 
 21 AND 29 WEST 23D STREET 
 
 1881
 
 TO 
 
 ELIZABETH CLARKE. 
 
 DEAR ELIZABETH, 
 
 You suggested the idea of "Pictures 
 and Legends from Normandy and Brittany /" and we 
 lovingly dedicate the book to you, in memory of your 
 true and life -long friendship for us and for our 
 children. 
 
 Affectionately yours, 
 
 THOMAS & KATHARINE MACQUOID. 
 
 STANLEY PLACE, CHELSEA. 
 October 1878.

 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 FAGR 
 
 Breton Fountains The Fountain of Le Drennec " Catherine 
 
 Cloar and the Poulpican " . . . i 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 A Hunt for "White Bread" A Breton Beggar's Story 
 
 " The Ferry of Carnoet " . . . -9 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 Quimper Our Landlady's Aunt's Story " The Two Neigh- 
 bours of Quimper " . . . . . .28 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 Quimperte Le Faoue't The Story of " The Miller and his 
 
 Lord" . . . . . . .75 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 Pont-Aven " The Legend of the Rocking-Stone of Tre*gunc " 92 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 Auray The Story of "The Bisciaveret" . . . 144 
 
 I / 

 
 viii CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 PACE 
 
 Vannes " The Glover of Vannes " . . .156 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 Dinan The Duel between Bertrand Du Guesclin and Sir 
 
 Thomas of Canterbury The Story of La Garaye . . 162 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 Dol A Leeend of St. Christopher " The Old Woman's 
 Cow" The Home of Chateaubriand Chateau Com- 
 bourg Vitre" . . . . . -183 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 Avranches A Brace of Characters The Story of " The Pil- 
 grimage to the Mount" . . . . . 199 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 Castle of Falaise Arlette Honfleur Old Farm-House 
 
 Pont-Audemer The Fourolle " Beside the Rille" . 246 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 Caudebec Rouen St. Remain and the Dragon" A Waif 
 of the Woods "Chateau Gaillard . . . -295
 
 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 Drawn by Thomas R. MacquoiJ. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 CATHEDRAL, VANNES ..... Frontispiece 
 
 THE FOUNTAIN OF LE DRENNEC .... 2 
 
 FOUNTAIN NEAR PONT-AVEN .... 8 
 
 A BRETON CHILD . . . . . . 12 
 
 A BRETON BEGGAR . . . . . -15 
 
 SPIRES OF CATHEDRAL, QUIMPER . . . .29 
 
 OLD HOUSES, QUIMPER . . . . .31 
 
 MARKET-WOMEN, QUIMPER . . . .74 
 
 THE BRIDGE, QUIMPERLE ..... 75 
 
 MARKET-HOUSE, LE FAOUET . . . .76 
 
 CHATEAU OF HENAN. ..... 92 
 
 ANNIK ........ 94 
 
 GUERIK . . . . . . .103 
 
 BEEHIVES ....... 109 
 
 THE BRIDGE, AURAY ...... 144 
 
 OLD WOMAN SPINNING . . . . .145 
 
 RUE DE JERZUAL, DINAN ..... 160 
 
 RUINS OF THE ABBEY. LEHON . . . .169 
 
 CHURCH, LEHON ...... 170 

 
 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 PACE 
 
 THE CHATEAU OF LA GARAYE . . . .172 
 
 OLD HOUSES, DOL . . . . . .184 
 
 CHATEAU COMBOURG . . . . .194 
 
 OLD SHOPS, VITKE ...... 196 
 
 PORCH OF CATHEDRAL, CHARTRES . . . 204 
 
 LA MERVEILLE, MONT S. MICHEL . . . 236 
 
 BIRTHPLACE OF WILLIAM THE CONQUEROR . . 246 
 
 MARKET-PLACE, HONFLEUR .... 249 
 
 A NORMAN FARM-HOUSE . . . . . 250 
 
 OLD HOUSES, PONT-AUDEMER .... 262 
 
 MARKET-PLACE, CAUDEBEC .... 296 
 
 GRANDE RUE, CAUDEBEC ..... 298 
 
 AN OLD COURT IN ROUEN ..... 299 
 
 MONUMENT S. ROMAIN, ROUEN .... 303 
 
 CHATEAU GAILLARD ...... 319 

 
 NOTE. 
 
 SOME of the stories in this book are founded on 
 popular legends and traditions, and a few have been 
 adapted from the tales told by the story-telling 
 beggars of Brittany.
 
 PICTURES & LEGENDS. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 BRETON FOUNTAINS THE FOUNTAIN OF LE DRENN EC- 
 CATHERINE CLOAR AND THE POULPICAN. 
 
 THE two distinguishing features of Brittany are its 
 dolmens and other stone relics of a prehistoric age, 
 and its ivy-grown moss-covered fountains. These are 
 indescribably picturesque ; they are usually found, like 
 this fountain of Le Drennec, embosomed in trees, 
 against which the deeply-coloured stone-work is well 
 relieved. From the joints of the masonry springs the 
 delicate lady - fern, and all around is a richly - hued 
 tangle of briers and brambles, and decaying leaves of 
 varied tints. Morning and evening quaint groups are 
 gathered round these fountains white-capped, dark- 
 faced, Breton women, with brass or brown stone pitchers, 
 linger and chat beside the clear flowing water, while 
 sometimes a youth, or more often an old man with
 
 PICTURES AND LEGENDS 
 
 broad-brimmed hat, and long flowing locks, looks on 
 and sees them fill and carry away the heavy weight 
 of water, but rarely offers to lighten their labour. 
 
 A great interest is attached to these fountains from 
 the superstitious fears with which they are regarded. 
 Formerly the Kerrigans had unbounded power over 
 these secluded spots, and they are supposed by the 
 peasants to have created the fountains, as the dwarfs 
 or Poulpicans are believed to have built the Dolmens. 
 
 But in these days a crucifix, or else that which the 
 Kerrigan detests even more, the image of the Blessed 
 Virgin, is almost always to be found on the fountain, and 
 although the fairy still visits the place at evening-tide, and 
 combs her long yellow hair, mirrored in the water, she is 
 no longer seen by day as a little old white-haired witch, 
 with red eyes and wrinkled face. The Kerrigan is 
 tiny, like the rest of her sisterhood, and by night she 
 appears under an exquisitely beautiful form, clad only 
 in a long white veil wrapped closely round her. This 
 fairy has a wonderful knowledge of the healing art, 
 and gives charms, it is said, to those who believe in 
 her. Every year, at the first burst of spring, she holds 
 high festival beside her special fountain. There, on a 
 cloth of dazzling whiteness, are spread ethereal dainties, 
 and in the centre is a cup filled with a liquor of which,
 
 THE FOUNTAIN OF I.E DRENNEC.
 
 FROM NORMANDY AND BRITTANY. 3 
 
 so says tradition, a single drop gives omnipotent 
 wisdom ; but at the sound of a human footstep all 
 vanishes into space, and only the bent grass blades 
 tell of the festival. The sight of a priest, above all, 
 puts the sprites to immediate flight ; but woe to the 
 unlucky mortal who comes suddenly on a Korrigan 
 when she is either counting the hoards she stores 
 in the Dolmens, or as she lies combing her hair on 
 the soft grass beside her fountain. Woe, too, to 
 the youth or maiden who flings a stone in the water in 
 which the Korrigan has hidden herself, especially if it 
 be on a Saturday ; on that day, dedicated to the Blessed 
 Virgin, the Korrigan is especially spiteful. 
 
 This fairy greatly covets newly born children, and 
 is skilful at exchanging for one of these her own 
 hideous little Poulpican or dwarf. Souvestre and 
 other Breton writers tell the story of one of these 
 changelings : 
 
 A Breton mother, named Catherine Cloar, went out 
 thoughtlessly one morning, leaving her newly born 
 infant, a boy, in its cradle near the open cottage door, 
 without making the sign of the cross over it, or com- 
 mending it to God's protection. A Korrigan happen- 
 ing to pass by, heard the baby crowing to itself. She 
 looked in and saw a lovely, fair, blue-eyed child, and
 
 PICTURES AND LEGENDS 
 
 at once she coveted it. She snatched it up, and placed 
 in the cradle her own little son, who was black and 
 more spiteful than a cat. 
 
 Catherine Clear came home, but, owing to the 
 glamour thrown over it by the fairy, she did not at 
 first see any change in her baby. After a time she 
 began to wonder that the child did not grow, and 
 was so full of spite and mischief. As soon as it was 
 old enough, it was sent to mind the cows, and it used 
 to fasten thorn branches under the poor beasts' tails, 
 and then to laugh heartily when they ran wildly about. 
 
 The poor mother was in despair ; she could not 
 understand why her son should be so small of stature 
 and so great in mischief. Sometimes she would 
 say to her husband as they sat together beside the 
 hearth, 
 
 " May Saint Anne defend us, but that child cannot 
 be our son ; he has too small a body, and his wits are too 
 sharp." 
 
 But Clear only stretched out his huge hands to warm 
 at the fire, took his pipe out of his mouth, shook his 
 long hair out of his eyes, and finally spat on the embers, 
 grumbling something in his beard ; it was his way of 
 answering his wife, and it drove her past bearing. 
 
 It happened one night that the child was left alone
 
 FROM NORMANDY AND BRITTANY. 5 
 
 in the cottage ; there was a storm of wind and rain, and 
 all at once some one tapped at the window, and a gruff 
 voice said, 
 
 " Have you any beasts to sell ?" 
 
 It was the butcher of Vannes, and spite of the 
 storm, he wanted to see if he could make a bargain. 
 He was entirely wrapped in a huge blue cloak which 
 covered him and his horse and also the calf that 
 he had with him tied by the legs in front of him. 
 The Poulpican peeped through the window, and all at 
 once he saw the three heads the man's, the horse's, and 
 the calf s which seemed all to grow out of one body. 
 
 He shut the window in a great fright, saying, 
 
 " I saw the acorn before I saw the oak, but I never 
 saw the like of this." 
 
 The butcher went away astonished at such words 
 from a child, and when he next met Catherine Cloar 
 he told her what he had heard. 
 
 Her suspicions had by this time grown so strong 
 that she resolved to make them a certainty. She went 
 at once, while the child was out in the fields, and bought 
 a hundred eggs ; she broke them all, and ranged the half 
 shells in front of the hearth in a long straight row, till 
 they looked like a procession of surpliced priests at the 
 Ftte Dieu. She had just finished when she heard the
 
 PICTURES AND LEGENDS 
 
 voice of the strange child singing quietly to himself, 
 and she hid behind the door. 
 
 He came in, and when he saw the egg-shells he 
 muttered 
 
 " I saw the acorn before I saw the oak, but the like 
 of this I never saw." 
 
 Catherine had no longer any doubt, and as soon as 
 her husband came in, she took him apart and told him 
 the story, and they both decided that the little one was 
 a demon and must be killed. They went in and seized 
 the little creature, and were going to execute their 
 project, when the Kerrigan, whose power made her 
 aware of what they were doing, suddenly appeared 
 leading a fine grown boy by the hand. 
 
 " Take your son," she said to the parents. " I have 
 fed him in the Dolmen of Tir-Tarden on roots and 
 cinders see how healthy and bright he is and now 
 give me back my Poulpican." 
 
 " The belief of the peasants," says Monsieur de la 
 Villemarque, " is that the Kerrigans are the spirits of 
 native Celtic princesses who, having refused to embrace 
 Christianity when it was first preached in Armorica, in- 
 curred the Divine displeasure. The same hope for which 
 they steal children makes them very desirous of allying 
 themselves with men ; this is shown in one of the most
 
 FROM NORMANDY AND BRITTANY. 
 
 popular of the Breton ballads, The Sire de Nann and 
 the Fairy. 
 
 There are two fountains at Quinipily near Baud, 
 most picturesque in character, although not so rich in 
 detail as Le Drennec some way north of Brest. At St. 
 Nicholas des Eaux on the Blavet, one of the most 
 quaint and primitive of Breton villages, there is a large 
 and well-preserved fountain, wreathed with brambles 
 and bright with ferns, which seems as if it might have 
 been in existence in the days of S. Brieuc and S. 
 Gildas, those two wonder-working saints who built their 
 hermitage on the opposite bank of the river Blavet, the 
 shrine of some famous Pardon or Pilgrimage. 
 
 Brittany is essentially a country of marvels and 
 miracles, both in the way of saints St. Corentin, St. 
 Gildas, St. Ronan, and St. Guenole, and others whose 
 fame meets the traveller continually, either in churches 
 dedicated to them, or far more often in miracles worked 
 in their names, attested by pictures and legends or 
 in its wonderful stones, the Menhirs and Dolmens of 
 Carnac and Loc-Maria-Ker, and other places ; for these 
 giant marvels are scattered broadly over the province, 
 chiefly in Morbihan and Finistere. 
 
 Many strange and pagan rites are still secretly 
 practised by the peasantry, dyed in a double supersti-
 
 PICTURES AND LEGENDS 
 
 tion, around those uncouth and ancient relics. Even 
 over the traveller, after some stay among them, they 
 obtain a strange and weird fascination a fascination 
 that seems to put him in sympathy with the reserved 
 and primitive people of South Brittany. 
 
 FOUNTAIN NEAR PONT-AVEN.
 
 FROM NORMANDY AND BRITTANY. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 A HUNT FOR "WHITE BREAD" A BRETON BEGGAR 
 THE FERRY OF CARNOET. 
 
 WE were extremely hungry famished is perhaps a truer 
 word for we had started from Landerneau without 
 breakfasting. 
 
 We wanted to see several places of interest near 
 this pretty little town, and we had reached the inn so 
 late the night before that we had not bespoken any 
 provisions for our journey. 
 
 This morning when our vehicle a comfortable- 
 looking machine, with a good horse, a capacious hood, 
 and a seat big enough to hold three behind the driver 
 came clattering over the uneven stones, our landlord 
 and his wife were still asleep. We asked the name of 
 a place to breakfast at, but both the white-capped 
 staring maids shook their heads ; they could only speak 
 Breton. We asked the driver, but his French was very 
 bad, and he did not seem to comprehend what we 
 said. One of our party understood Breton thoroughly, 
 but she could only speak just sufficient to tell the ugly,
 
 io PICTURES AND LEGENDS 
 
 sullen-faced fellow that we would stop to breakfast 
 wherever he could find " white bread ;" for although 
 black bread when new is eatable, it seems generally 
 stale and sour, and in this state is most unpalatable. 
 
 Off we drove, first to see the ruins of King Arthur's 
 castle of La Garde Joyeuse. We could only find a pic- 
 turesque bit of gateway wreathed with ivy, and a sort of 
 vaulted crypt into which one of us had nearly fallen. 
 The driver was so long in finding out this ruin that we 
 began to feel starved, but though we stopped at every 
 place like an inn in the villages we passed through, the 
 answer was always the same a shake of the head when 
 the driver asked for "white bread." After that we tried to 
 find the ruined church of Beuzitconogan, in which is the 
 tomb of Troilus de Montdragon, but our driver either 
 could not or would not get into the right road, so at 
 last we gave up the search, and told him to drive on 
 till we could find a place to breakfast in. It was now 
 two o'clock, and we had grown so faint and sick with 
 hunger that I believe, if the villages we passed through 
 had looked less squalid and dirty, we should have been 
 capable of sitting down humbly to a meal of sour black 
 bread and cider. But our driver gave us no choice ; he 
 had a good horse, though it was getting tired, and he 
 drove on rapidly, while we felt cross with him and with
 
 FROM NORMANDY AND BRITTANY. u 
 
 one another, and lost all interest in the charming country 
 through which we were hurried. 
 
 A sudden turn in the road, and we all gave a shout 
 of joy. 
 
 We were in the midst of a much larger village 
 than any we had yet passed through, but there was 
 no sign of an inn except that over a squalid-looking 
 shed, with a filthy pool of black mud in front, was 
 written, " Ici on loge a pied et a cheval," with its 
 Breton equivalent beyond. 
 
 But our driver, to our joy, did not stop here, he 
 drove across the wide stony street to a long low house, in 
 the window of which were some groceries and sweeties. 
 We jumped out gladly, and followed the driver through 
 the low-arched doorway into a large room with heavy 
 black beams overhead, from which hung skins of lard, 
 bunches of herbs, and bundles of crepes. 
 
 A very pleasant-faced intelligent-looking woman 
 came forward to speak to us. Clinging shyly to her 
 apron was a lovely little girl about six years old, fair- 
 skinned, with regular features and wonderful large dark 
 eyes. Her head was covered with a lilac cap, shaped 
 like a Phrygian head-piece, and fitting close in front. 
 
 The woman apologised and said her house was not 
 fit for us ; she had white bread, but she could only give 
 us bread, butter, and eggs.
 
 PICTURES AND LEGENDS 
 
 " Capital ! " we said, feeling ready to eat the eggs 
 with their shells. 
 
 " How many shall I cook ?" she said timidly, looking 
 at the three famished faces. 
 
 A BRETON CHILD. 
 
 " A dozen to begin with," was the reckless answer ; 
 and she ushered us upstairs, first into a sort of village 
 club-room, and then into a small bed-room, the walls 
 of which were covered with photographs and prints.
 
 FROM NORMANDY AND BRITTANY. 13 
 
 Here she spread a clean table - cloth on a small 
 round table, and on this she placed a good - sized 
 loaf, a lump of butter, in shape and size like a man's 
 hat, some black-handled knives and forks, and a bottle 
 of claret. 
 
 That was the most delicious meal we ever ate. 
 How good that bread and butter was ! How excellent 
 that claret and those eggs ! We had boiled eggs, fried 
 eggs, oeufs sur le plat I am afraid to say how many 
 eggs we swallowed and finally, our hostess reappeared 
 with a tray, on which were three cups full of black 
 coffee and a small bottle of cognac. 
 
 When we had finished eating we asked for the bill, 
 and then our landlady, shyly putting her hands behind 
 her, said she did not know what to ask would three 
 francs be too much ? she had never breakfasted 
 gentlefolks before ; two francs for the eggs and bread 
 and butter, and one franc for the claret, and twenty- 
 five centimes each for the coffee and the brandy. We 
 paid it, marvelling at the modesty of the charge. As 
 we followed her downstairs, she said an old woman had 
 come in, who, she thought, would amuse us. She was 
 a professed story-teller. 
 
 " But can she tell stories in French ?" we asked. 
 
 Our hostess looked puzzled, shrugged her shoulders,
 
 PICTURES AND LEGENDS 
 
 and glanced at our friend who was trying to talk 
 Breton to the pretty little girl clinging to her mother's 
 skirts. 
 
 " Some of these people have a wonderful store of 
 ballads and legends," our friend said, " and the beg- 
 gars always tell the best stories. The stories are 
 better than the ballads, which are many of them 
 modern." 
 
 We all went down the rough uneven stairs rather 
 eagerly. Our good meal had given a fresh aspect to 
 life, and we felt a new interest in the journey, which 
 an hour ago had grown so pale and uninteresting, spite 
 of the glorious sunshine overhead ; we felt ready for 
 any amount of adventures. 
 
 At one end of the long, low, dark room was the 
 immense open fireplace, and close in the ingle nook, 
 on an oaken bench, sat an old woman. She sat immo- 
 vable, without turning her head or seeming to be aware 
 of our presence. On her head was a dirty white linen 
 kerchief tied tightly under her chin, and projecting so as 
 to throw a deep shadow over her cruel, malicious, green 
 eyes ; her bodice and sleeves had once been black, but 
 now they were green and rusty, and patched with other 
 colours, while numerous chinks and rents revealed 
 a still older and more faded velvet garment be-
 
 FROM NORM A XD Y AND BRITTANY. 1 5 
 
 neath, which hung down in shreds below her waist ; 
 
 her rough, dark skirts seemed to be dropping to pieces, 
 
 patches had been sewn on them with yellow twine, but 
 
 these were breaking away from the worn-out stuff, 
 in front the upper skirt had been completely torn 
 through, and was fastened together by a huge brass pin. 
 A coarse blue apron was the least ragged part of this
 
 16 PICTURES AND LEGENDS 
 
 collection of rags and patches, but it was flung on 
 one side, as if to display the tattered garments it would 
 otherwise have hidden. Her brown hideous- looking 
 feet were shod in huge sabots, bound with rusty metal 
 bands ; her hands were brown too, but they looked 
 powerful and well fed ; there was no starving aspect 
 either in her baggy brown cheeks, \vhich seemed pushed 
 up by the singularly long dark nostrils. Her mouth 
 was a long line across her face, drooping at the 
 sides, a slight lift at each corner giving a fiendish 
 grin to the inscrutable face of this murderous-looking 
 sibyl. 
 
 When cur friend greeted her in Breton, she turned 
 and looked at her from head to foot, then raising her 
 arm, she displayed a greasy - looking wallet at her 
 side, and patting it with her strong veiny fingers, she 
 whined something in Breton, and held out her hand. 
 
 The hostess said that she asked an alms for the 
 love of the Lord God and of Madam the Virgin, so 
 we all put something into her outstretched palm ; 
 then, without looking at us, she began a long prayer 
 for blessings on us and on our journey, and on 
 the place to which we might be going. We longed 
 to interrupt her, for we wanted a story, but our hostess 
 and her children and the driver stood listening as if
 
 FROM NORZfANDY AND BRITTANY, 17 
 
 they believed the dirty old witch was inspired. All 
 at once she asked abruptly, "Where are they going?" 
 in a strong coarse voice, quite unlike the professional 
 whine that had gone before. Our hostess told her, in 
 Breton, that we were going to Quimper, and that, as 
 we were strangers, we should thankfully listen to any- 
 thing she might tell us about that city. 
 
 She shut her hateful eyes at this and shook her 
 head, but our hostess drew forward a long oaken 
 bench, and signed to us to seat ourselves. 
 
 Presently the crone raised her head, blinking her 
 wicked green eyes till she looked just like an old 
 cat. 
 
 " Kemper-Corentin, Kemper-Corentin." Her voice 
 had a sort of nasal drawl as she repeated the words to 
 herself. She shook her head again, and looked into 
 the fire. 
 
 " We are going on to Quimperle, to Pont-Aven, 
 and to Tregunc," our friend said to her in Breton. 
 
 " Ah ! " The hostess bent down over the old 
 woman. We heard the- words Kemperle and Tregunc, 
 and we saw her point to a cauldron suspended over 
 the wood-fire on the hearth. The beggar nodded, 
 thrust one hand into the pot and pulled out a potato. 
 
 Then she proceeded to tear the skin off with her long 
 
 C
 
 1 8 PICTURES AND LEGENDS 
 
 black nails, and when it was skinned, she crammed it 
 nearly whole into her mouth. Our hostess nodded and 
 winked at us. " Wait till she has eaten it," she said 
 in French. 
 
 " Maharit," the old woman said, looking at the 
 little girl. The child seemed to understand her by 
 instinct. She went up to the huge black table, pulled 
 at the half open drawer, and came back with a dirty 
 mug half-full of buttermilk. The old woman drank 
 this greedily, drew her hand across her lipless mouth, 
 and then began a sort of low chant, seemingly addressed 
 to the fire. As she went on her voice grew earnest, 
 but the words being Breton we could not understand 
 them ; but afterwards, when our friend told us the story 
 the old woman had related, we could feel how graphic 
 the narration had been, and how completely in the 
 telling she had identified herself with the distraught 
 Guern and his lost love. 
 
 Wyz jfercp of Carnoen 
 
 THE river Laita, which leads from Quimperle* to the 
 ancient monastery of St. Maurice, flows along the 
 border of the forest of Carnoet, and through a long 
 series of beautiful meadows. Clumps of pines chest-
 
 FROM NORM A ND Y AND BRITTANY. 1 9 
 
 nuts, and other trees adorn the charming banks of this 
 river, and offer abundant subjects to both poet and 
 painter. 
 
 In some parts the banks are very lofty, and the 
 trees completely overhang the water, so that under 
 their cool shade the fisherman avoids the noontide 
 heat and takes his siesta in comfort. 
 
 About a league below Quimperle is the ferry of 
 Carnoet. Some portions of the old chateau of Carnoet 
 still remain, and tradition says that this building was 
 one of the many residences of the infamous Count 
 Commore (the Bluebeard of Brittany), who is said to 
 have murdered his numerous wives. 
 
 On the banks of the river an old oak stands at 
 some distance from the ferry, its almost branchless 
 trunk leans far over the stream and looks as if it must 
 fall into the water. It is a very ancient tree, and a 
 weird legend is attached to it. 
 
 Many years ago there lived in the village of 
 Clohars a young couple called Guern and Maharit ; they 
 were betrothed, and were to be married two days after 
 the " Pardon of the birds," which, as every one knows, 
 happens every year in the month of June at the 
 entrance of the forest of Carnoet. 
 
 One evening after sunset the lovers came home
 
 20 PICTURES AND LEGENDS 
 
 from a visit to some relations in the parish of Guidel ; 
 when they reached the ferry of Carnoet, Guern shouted 
 for the ferryman. 
 
 " Wait for me, Maharit," he said, " while I go and 
 light my pipe at my godfather's cottage ; it is close by." 
 
 The boatman of the ferry was a mysterious being 
 who lived alone in a hut beside the river. Strange 
 stories were told of him. It grew darker and darker, 
 and Maharit felt timid at the thought of being left 
 alone. " Do not be long away, Guern," she said. 
 
 " I will be back, my beloved, before you are in the 
 boat," and he ran away. The ferryman soon appeared : 
 he was tall and wild-looking, and long grey hair floated 
 over his shoulders. 
 
 " Who wants me ?" he growled. " It is too late. 
 Are you alone maiden ?" 
 
 " Loi'k Guern is coming ; he has only gone to light 
 his pipe." 
 
 " He must be quick then ; get into the boat," said 
 the ferryman impatiently. 
 
 The girl obeyed mechanically, but she was surprised 
 and frightened to see the ferryman jump and push the 
 boat off from the bank without a moment's delay. 
 
 " What are you doing, my friend ?" she cried. " We 
 must wait for Lolk Guern, I tell you."
 
 FROM NORM A ND Y AND BRITTA A F. 21 
 
 There was no answer, and now the boat reached 
 the current, but instead of passing across to the oppo- 
 site shore they shot rapidly down the river. 
 
 "Stop, stop, my friend, for pity's sake!" cried 
 Maharit in an agonised voice. " We must go back ; 
 what will Loi'k Guern say to such folly?" She 
 clasped her hands imploringly; but the ferryman neither 
 spoke nor looked at her, and the boat still impelled 
 forward, descended the river more and more rapidly. 
 
 Maharit bent towards the shore. " Loi'k, Loi'k," 
 she cried. The words died away on her lips, for she 
 saw shadowy forms standing on the gloomy banks ; 
 they stretched their arms towards her with menacing 
 gestures, and she drew back shuddering. She knew 
 these were the spirits of the murdered wives of Commore. 
 Maharit uttered a loud cry and fell lifeless in the 
 bottom of the boat. 
 
 Loi'k Guern lit his pipe, said a few words to his 
 godfather, and hastened back to the ferry. But 
 Maharit was gone, and the boat was gone too ! He 
 gazed anxiously across the river, and up and down its 
 banks, now cold and sombre in the gathering darkness. 
 There was no sound or sign of living thing. 
 
 "Maharit, Maharit," he cried, "where art thou?" 
 From far away a cry came to him on the night breeze.
 
 22 PICTURES AND LEGENDS 
 
 At that moment the boat disappeared round a turn in 
 the river. 
 
 " Maharit, Maharit ; Pere Pouldu," shouted Guern. 
 
 Suddenly, from amidst the tall weeds and rushes 
 near the ferry, rose up the gaunt figure of an old 
 beggar woman. 
 
 " You waste your breath, young man," she said. 
 " The boat and those in it are already far from here," 
 and she pointed down the river. 
 
 " What do you mean, mother ? What has happened 
 to Maharit ?" 
 
 " The young girl is gone to the shores of the de- 
 parted ; she forgot to make the sign of the cross when 
 she got into the boat, and she also looked behind her." 
 
 " You are mad," cried the peasant impatiently. 
 " Go to the devil with your old wives' tales." 
 
 He did not wait for an answer ; he set off running 
 like a madman along the river banks in the direction 
 the old woman had pointed out, waking the silence of 
 the night with cries for his beloved Maharit. 
 
 " Come back to me," he cried, " come back." But 
 all in vain. 
 
 At daybreak Guern returned worn out and weary 
 to his village. He went to the parents of the young
 
 FROM NORMANDY AND BRITTANY. 23 
 
 girl to her friends. He asked tidings of Maharit of 
 every one he met, but he could gain no news of her, 
 she had not been seen. 
 
 He passed the next three days in wild despair, 
 searching for his beloved in the neighbouring villages 
 and through the forest. Towards evening, on the third 
 day, he sat down on a rock beside the river, overcome 
 with grief and fatigue. Suddenly the old beggar 
 woman stood before him. He had not heard her 
 approach ; she seemed to spring out of the earth. 
 
 " Well, my poor little Guern, hast thou found thy 
 beloved ? hast thou seen Maharit ?" 
 
 " Alas, no, mother ! May the good God have pity 
 on me, I am heart-broken," he said with tears in 
 his eyes. " Have you news of the sweet child ? Tell 
 me, for Christ's dear sake ! Speak quickly, mother. We 
 only waited for the pardon of Toul-Foen to become 
 man and wife." 
 
 " I have told you all I know, my poor Guern. The 
 child forgot to make the sign of the cross when she 
 got into the boat, and she spoke and looked behind 
 her, and this gave the cruel ferryman power over her, 
 and he has taken her to the shores of the ' departed.' " 
 
 "Where is this accursed shore of the dead ?" 
 
 " Ah, my poor Guern, blaspheme not," interrupted
 
 24 PICTURES AND LEGENDS 
 
 the old woman. " It is a secret from Christians ; it is 
 the secret of the sorcerer Milliguet he personates the 
 ferryman ; he conducts the boat from this haunted 
 spot, and loses many souls. Yes, he is powerful ; but 
 those whom Jesus loves are able to overcome him and 
 the charitable are always blessed by God. I am only 
 a poor old woman, Loi'k Guern. I am hungry I am 
 very hungry." 
 
 " My poor mother," said the young peasant, 
 " here is some bread take it. I care for nothing 
 since I lost Maharit," and he burst into tears as he 
 gave her his black loaf. 
 
 " Thank you, Guern. Ah, what a good heart you 
 have ! You are a good Christian, and if you do as I bid 
 and if it is the will of God you may release Maharit." 
 
 " The Holy Virgin reward you," said the poor 
 fellow ; and he looked up with hope in his eyes. 
 "What shall I do, mother?" 
 
 " You must first cut a branch of holly, and you 
 must cut it at midnight, in the village of the Korrigans. 
 You know where it is, in the forest underneath the spot 
 called ' the Stag's Leap.' Dip this holly branch in the 
 holy water-stoup at the chapel of St. Leger, then at 
 dusk go with it to the ferry." 
 
 " Yes, my mother," said Guern, eagerly. " And 
 what next ?"
 
 FROM NORMANDY AND BRITTANY. 25 
 
 " Be patient, my son." She raised her shrivelled 
 hand warningly. " You must then call the ferryman. 
 This fellow has sold himself to the evil one," she 
 went on, " and when you have got into the boat, be 
 sure you do not look about or behind you, for every 
 night the banks of the river are haunted by the dead 
 wives of Commore, and their cries and gestures will 
 trouble your reason. You will neither see nor hear 
 them unless you look about or behind you. You must 
 tell your beads diligently, and above all you must make 
 the sign of the cross reverently ; and when you have 
 come to the thirty-third bead of your rosary the 
 thirty-third you understand 
 
 " Yes, my mother, yes," said the young man breath- 
 lessly. 
 
 " You must raise the blessed holly branch and 
 show it to the ferryman, and then in the name of 
 Christ command him to take you living to the shores 
 of the dead. Miliguet will tremble at the sight of 
 the holly branch, and his power will leave him, and 
 he will obey you. Do you remember all I have told 
 you, Loi'k Guern ?" 
 
 " Yes, my mother, and what will be the end ?" 
 
 " I see no farther," she said. " I can tell you 
 nothing more, my son. Do exactly as I bid you, and 
 wait in hope for the end."
 
 26 PICTURES AND LEGENDS 
 
 She disappeared as suddenly as she had come, 
 leaving Guern full of eager hope. 
 
 At midnight, he found his way to the village of 
 the Kerrigans. Close by the Stag's Leap he cut a 
 branch of holly, and then he went off to the chapel of 
 St. Leger, dipped the holly in the blessed fountain, 
 and earnestly entreated the aid of the saint. 
 
 The next evening at sunset he went alone to the 
 ferry of Carnoet, keeping the holly branch carefully 
 hidden under his long jacket. 
 
 " Hola ! Pere Pouldu, ferry, ferry! " he shouted. 
 
 The ferryman came, and Guern got into the boat 
 without a word. There was deep silence, only broken 
 by the plash of the ferryman's oars in the water. At 
 first Guern began to tell his beads silently, but with 
 fervour ; but by the time the boat had reached the 
 middle of the river he was so overcome by the 
 remembrance of his lost Maharit that he forgot his 
 prayers and the old woman's caution ; he looked behind 
 him, the string of beads slipped from his trembling 
 hands and fell into the water. 
 
 Instantly loud cries resounded along the banks, 
 and the boat, drawn into the current, turned and 
 dashed down the river with frightful rapidity. 
 
 Guern roused himself, and remembered the -holly
 
 FROM NORMANDY AND BRITTANY. 27 
 
 branch ; he drew it forth and waved it before the silent 
 ferryman. 
 
 " Conduct me to the shores of the departed," he 
 cried ; " take me to my betrothed." But in his agita- 
 tion he forgot to say the word " living? 
 
 The boatman took no heed ; the boat drove on. 
 Then, with an impulse over which he had no control, 
 Guern in wild despair struck the ferryman with the 
 consecrated branch. 
 
 The strange man uttered a terrible cry threw down 
 his oars and plunged into the dark water. Still the 
 boat drove madly on on on ! Guern could never tell 
 how long till it struck with awful violence against a 
 rock and was dashed to pieces beneath a gnarled oak 
 that bent over the river. 
 
 For years afterwards, at all the pardons of Clohars, 
 of St. Leger and their neighbourhood, was to be seen 
 a pale distracted-looking man who ran hither and thither 
 among the crowd. He cried out piteously, while tears 
 ran down his furrowed cheeks, " Ah, my friends ; ah, 
 for the love of God and the saints, take me to the 
 shores of the dead !" 
 
 The young people used to look at him with surprise 
 and pity, but the older folk only shook their heads 
 and said " It is the poor madman of the ferry ; it is 
 Lork Guern."
 
 28 PICTURES AND LEGENDS 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 QUIMPER OUR LANDLADY'S AUNT'S STORY "THE TWO 
 NEIGHBOURS OF QUIMPER." 
 
 NEXT day when we reached Quimper we wondered that 
 old Barba for we found that her name was Barba 
 Keroes had had no story to tell us about this most quaint 
 and picturesque of Breton towns. It may certainly be 
 considered the capital of Finistere, and seems to contain 
 in its aspect, its people, and their costumes, the very 
 essence of all that is Breton la vraie Bretagne breton- 
 nante. Lounging in front of our comfortable inn on 
 the banks of the Odet we told our landlady about old 
 Barba and her stories. 
 
 " There are many tales about Quimper, too," she 
 said. " I suppose you know all about King Gradlon 
 and St. Corentin, and about Fontenelle and his attack." 
 
 Yes ; we had heard all these stories in fact we had 
 grown rather tired of King Gradlon and the drowning of 
 Ker-Is, having heard so much about it at Douarnenez. 
 
 The landlady looked back at her room on the left 
 of the entrance. " My old aunt there," she smiled
 
 FROM NORMANDY AND BRITTANY. 29 
 
 incredulously, " is a true Breton, and she has some strange 
 
 SPIRES OF CATHEDRAL, QU1MPER. 
 
 legends ; one, which I suppose is true, about the 
 Cathedral, though it seems hard to believe."
 
 30 PICTURES AND LEGENDS 
 
 " Why do you suppose it to be true ? " I asked. 
 
 " Ah, Madame ! it must be true when you go to see 
 our Cathedral and I can tell you it is worth going to 
 see, in a side chapel on the left side you will be shown 
 a picture that tells the end of my aunt's story. Come 
 in, come in, Mesdames, and talk to her she is as deaf 
 as a post ; but she can tell you her story in French." 
 
 We went in out of the sunshine and found the little 
 aunt half-asleep in a low chair. She was a tiny, frail- 
 looking dark-eyed woman ; very clean and neat, but so 
 shy and nervous that she formed a striking contrast to 
 Barba Keroes. And she told her story in quite another 
 manner ; in a monotonous feeble sing-song that almost 
 robbed it of all interest. 
 
 of thumper* 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 ON THE MARKET-PLACE. 
 
 LONG AGO, centuries before its two graceful spires 
 adorned the cathedral of St. Corentin, Jehan Kergrist 
 and Olivier Logonna were the firmest pair of friends in 
 the fair city of Quimper. For Ouimper must always 
 have been a fair city ; even at this distance of time, so
 
 FROM NORMANDY AND BRITTANY. 
 
 OLD HOUSES, QUIMPER. 
 
 much of the moss of a former age clings about its quaint 
 market-place ; on its tree-shaded quays ; its rivers
 
 32 PICTURES AND LEGENDS 
 
 where old grey gabled and towered houses look down 
 at their own reflections in the water below and, chief 
 of all, in its grey old streets that it is easy to call up 
 a picture of the past, more especially on market-days, 
 when the costumes and language of the people who 
 come in crowds from the surrounding country are little 
 different from what they were many hundred years ago. 
 
 There is a market to-day, and Jehan and Olivier are 
 chatting together as they stroll among the booths and 
 stalls. Suddenly they stand still. The eyes of both fix 
 in one direction, and each man is seemingly so interested 
 in what he sees that he does not ask his companion the 
 reason of the sudden silence that has come between 
 them. 
 
 A tall lay Sister is buying cabbages at the vegetable 
 stall opposite. She takes up first one and then another 
 of the huge heads so like immense green roses, lays 
 them in her flat palms and poises them carefully. Then 
 she smiles down at her companion. 
 
 " Thou art no judge of cabbages, little one," she 
 says, " or I should ask thee to see how much difference 
 there can be between two vegetables which to the eye 
 look the same." 
 
 There is a smile on her companion's face, but the 
 smiles of age and youth are as unlike as the cabbages
 
 FROM NORMANDY AND BRITTANY. 33 
 
 in question. Sister Ursula's smile creases the corners of 
 her mouth and wrinkles her sallow face, while the smile 
 of Frangoise Nevez dimples and makes her pensive face 
 beautiful. 
 
 " Sister Ursula," she says playfully, " is it not so 
 with men and women ? Some who look one as good 
 as another are really quite different." 
 
 A flush comes on Sister Ursula's pale face. 
 
 " It may be so with women, my child," she says 
 hastily. " Of men and their ways I know nothing, 
 God be thanked," and she crosses herself devoutly. 
 
 Francoise laughed ; but men being a forbidden 
 topic and cabbages not specially interesting, she looked 
 round in search of amusement, and she met the full 
 gaze of the two friends. 
 
 She shrank from being stared at, and so bright 
 a colour rose in her face that Sister Ursula saw it, 
 and being much accustomed to the charge of the 
 young girls educated at the convent of Locmaria, in a 
 moment she had discovered the cause. 
 
 " Come, come, my daughter," she said anxiously, 
 " it is time for us to go home. Annik has all we want 
 in her basket ; she can follow us." 
 
 She looked round at a stout, black-browed, bare- 
 footed serving -maid, whose square -topped close linen
 
 34 PICTURES AND LEGENDS 
 
 cap, not unlike a sugar-bag, set off her red cheeks and 
 showed her to be an inhabitant of Quimper itself; the 
 cap was far less picturesque than some of the other 
 headpieces worn by Pont-1'Abbe and Pont-Aven women, 
 and also by those of the other towns and villages who 
 brought their goods to the Great Square of Quimper 
 on market-day. 
 
 But Franqoise lagged behind at last she looked 
 back over her shoulder. 
 
 " Sister Ursula," she said shyly, " did you see those 
 two youths near us just now ?" 
 
 " Well, what of them ? they are just like other men." 
 Sister Ursula spoke sharply. She had looked on men 
 all her life as incarnations of evil. It disturbed her 
 that her favourite Franqoise should waste a thought on 
 such godless mortals. 
 
 " But one of them is Monsieur Jehan Kergrist ; I 
 am sure it is he. He used to come and see me at my 
 godfather's, and we used to play in the garden together, 
 and and my godfather loved him dearly." She blushed 
 again ; she remembered that Jehan had always called 
 her his little wife. " Yes, I am sure it is Jehan, though 
 he is altered." She looked over her shoulder again. 
 
 " C.'ome, come along, my child ; we are late already." 
 Sister Ursula's face puckered with anxiety. What
 
 FROM NORMANDY AND BRITTANY. 35 
 
 would the Abbess think, or Sister Clara, the mistress 
 of the novices, if she, Ursula, who had always been 
 looked on as the best watch-dog the convent possessed, 
 suffered Francoise Nevez the fairest, and in expectancy 
 the richest, ward of the community to look after a 
 young man in the market-place of Quimper ? " Is the 
 child in love?" she asked herself. 
 
 What love might be Ursula did not know ; but she 
 believed it to be a species of Evil Eye or glamour cast 
 by men always incarnations of evil on hapless girls, 
 whom it usually led to misery and perdition, especially 
 if the girls chanced to be rich and handsome. 
 
 Old Marie, the sieve-seller, had loitered over a 
 bargain she was making to watch the little incident just 
 recorded. The young men stood near her, and she had 
 noted the direction of their eyes. When Franchise 
 looked over her shoulder at Jehan Kergrist, the old 
 woman clapped her hands and laughed out loud. 
 
 " Thou art in luck, my son," she said to Jehan ; 
 " that backward glance was for thee." She looked 
 mockingly at Olivier Logonna, who was frowning till 
 his black brows met over his narrow blood-shot eyes. 
 
 " Silence, old fool," he said. " How can a blind old 
 beetle like you pretend to say which of us Mademoiselle
 
 36 PICTURES AND LEGENDS 
 
 Nevez saw when she looked back just now ? That old 
 dragon of a sister was scolding her, I swear." 
 
 " Holy Virgin !" Marie crossed herself, and Jeanne 
 Pichon, who was haggling over a sieve, also crossed 
 herself, and shook her linen-capped head vigorously; 
 " dragon is no name for good Sister Ursula. Fie for 
 shame, young man ! Are you a heretic, or has Satan 
 himself taken hold on you, that you can so speak of a 
 holy sister of the sainted Cross ?" 
 
 " Mind your sieves, you old crow," Olivier said 
 savagely. 
 
 Jehan looked in wonder at his friend, and he pulled 
 his arm to draw him farther from the gossips. 
 
 " Be quiet, Kergrist," Olivier looked still more 
 angry. " You will tear the braid off my sleeve with 
 your violence. Go, if you want to go," he threw his 
 arm from him rudely. " I am in no such haste to leave 
 the market." 
 
 Jehan looked surprised, then annoyed ; but Marie's 
 two companions began to giggle at the quarrel between 
 the friends. Jehan bit his lip and walked across the 
 market-place to a gabled house behind the cathedral. 
 
 As he passed in through the low round-headed 
 doorway, the light streamed into the shop, and showed 
 its dark oak-panelled walls and carved presses full of
 
 FROM NORMANDY AND BRITTANY. 37 
 
 merchandise. An inner door facing the entrance stood 
 open and revealed the massive staircase pillar with carved 
 figures of saints guarding every landing, and a wealth 
 of quaint masks and scrollwork between. The kitchen 
 was screened off on the left from the staircase by a 
 carved partition of black oak about ten feet high ; the 
 stone walls on each side, except at the staircase opening, 
 went up without any intervening ceiling to the skylight 
 above. Jehan went on hurriedly beyond staircase and 
 kitchen to a small richly furnished room. He closed 
 the door behind him, turned the quaintly-worked key 
 in the massive lock, and then sat down before an old 
 desk and rested his head on his hands. 
 
 " I did not know it," he said sadly ; " and yet, now I 
 think over the last few days, I might have known it 
 Olivier loves FranQoise. What can I do ? I would 
 give my own life for him, and yet I cannot give up my 
 hopes." 
 
 He covered his face with his hands, but he soon 
 looked up again, and there was a smile on his honest 
 face ; he was not nearly so handsome as Olivier there 
 was a heavy squareness about his features, but his eyes 
 were dark and sweet. 
 
 " It must be so," he said. " I never saw him so 
 moved ; he is always so staid and discreet. But I have
 
 33 PICTURES AND LEGENDS 
 
 loved her all my life," he went on. " I know it now, 
 and Olivier has only seen her by chance two or three 
 times in the market-place he has not even spoken to 
 her, and he is always taken up with the last new face." 
 He paused again, and a downcast look saddened his 
 face. " It may be that Franqoise would like him best ; 
 girls are apt to like men who have had successes with 
 women better than us simple fellows who only care for 
 earnest honest love. But I will not be faint-hearted. 
 Let us both try ; we are each rich enough to marry, 
 thanks to the thrift and skill of our parents, and 
 Fran9oise shall choose for herself. After all, I can but 
 remain single for her sake her happiness is the chief 
 thing sweet child." 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 GODFATHER PICARD. 
 
 THE Abbess of the Convent of Holy Cross had risen 
 from her high-backed oak chair, and was moving towards 
 the door of her room. She stopped and turned round. 
 " Good day, Monsieur Picard ;" she bowed stiffly to 
 her visitor. "As you specially require it, I will send 
 the child to you, though you might have trusted to me
 
 FROM NORMANDY AND BRITTANY. 39 
 
 to find out her wishes, since you consider that her 
 inclination is to be studied." 
 
 The Abbess was a tall fine woman with a noble 
 face, so pale that it scarcely seemed made of flesh and 
 blood, but the smile that came with her words gave her 
 a sarcastic, almost a cruel, expression. 
 
 Jean Picard's broad red face grew crimson, and his 
 heavy brows met in a frown. 
 
 " Undoubtedly I do, Madame," he said sternly. " I 
 married for love myself, and I never repented my act. 
 Why shouldn't this poor little girl as good as a child 
 to me have the same luck ?" 
 
 " Luck is a false word, sir," her smile grew pitying, 
 " luck has nothing to do with the children of Holy 
 Church. Good morning, Monsieur Picard." 
 
 She went out of the rocfrn, her thick woollen robes 
 filling up the doorway as she passed through. As soon 
 as the door shut behind her, Monsieur gave a sigh of 
 relief and sat down in the Abbess's chair. 
 
 " She's a good woman, that I doubt not ; but she 
 has an eye to business," he said crossly. " She's not 
 the saint my little Frangoise makes her out to be. The 
 Abbess knows as well as I do that Olivier Logonna is 
 a richer man now, and likely to be in the future a 
 much richer man than Jehan Kergrist can ever be. and
 
 40 PICTURES AND LEGENDS 
 
 she foresees that there will be more to be made for the 
 convent out of Madame Logonna than out of Madame 
 Kergrist ; and, maybe, Olivier's handsome face and 
 smooth tongue have had their way. Did she let him 
 see Fran^oise, I wonder ? Surely she would pot venture 
 without my permission." 
 
 The door opened, and in came Francoise Nevez ; 
 such a contrast with her bright face and golden hair to 
 the pale, black-robed nun who had just left the room, that 
 even to the prosaic old merchant, Jean Picard, it seemed 
 as if sunshine had come into the room with his ward. 
 
 She ran up to him, kissed him on both cheeks 
 before he could rise to greet her, and then put both her 
 hands on his shoulders. 
 
 " What mischief is brewing, my dear godfather ? 
 two visitors in one day is quite an event for Holy Cross, 
 I can tell you ; and you are the second gentleman who 
 has come to see our Mother this afternoon." 
 
 Jean Picard grunted and looked very cross. 
 
 "Ah!" he said "who was the other?" 
 
 Franqoise smiled and blushed. 
 
 " It was Monsieur Olivier Logonna." 
 
 " And what do you know about Logonna ?" Picard 
 spoke roughly. " You have never seen him at my 
 house. What is he like, child ?"
 
 FROM NORMANDY AND BRITTANY. 41 
 
 " Oh, I have seen him several times at market and 
 in church, and to-day, when I was in the garden water- 
 ing my flowers, our Mother passed by and presented 
 Monsieur Logonna to me." 
 
 Picard grew red and angry. 
 
 "Well, and what do you think of him ?" 
 
 The girl thought her guardian was jealous and 
 tyrannical, and she felt inclined to tease. 
 
 " I thought a great many things," and she looked 
 down demurely on the floor. 
 
 "Confound all women!" but Picard said this to 
 himself he looked awkwardly at his ward, and plunged 
 his broad hand in among his hair. 
 
 " Do you want him for a husband ?" he spoke so 
 crossly that Franqoise started. 
 
 " I never said so." Tears sprang in her eyes. 
 " Why are you angry with me, godfather ? may I not 
 speak to anyone besides you?" 
 
 She had seated herself beside him on a low wooden 
 stool, and as she spoke she stroked the back of his hand 
 as it lay in his lap. 
 
 Jean Picard looked wistfully round the room, as if 
 he expected some of the figures in the pictures that 
 decorated the walls a dark series representing the 
 Triumphs of the cross to come down and tell him how
 
 42 PICTURES AND LEGENDS 
 
 to manage his ward. Jehan Kergrist had come to him 
 that morning and had proposed for Frangoise Nevez, and 
 it had seemed such easy work to say "Yes," if Frangoise 
 were willing ; and now, instead of being able to plead 
 for his young friend, he found that Olivier Logonna had 
 been before him, both with the Abbess and with 
 Frangoise. 
 
 "Jehan has been a fool," he muttered; " why did 
 he delay ? such a girl as Frangoise cannot be hidden 
 away did he think no one had eyes but himself?" 
 
 " Come, come, godfather," the girl spoke half 
 coaxingly, half pettishly, " why may I not speak to 
 Monsieur Logonna?" 
 
 Jean looked down at her for a minute, and then he 
 laid his hand on her golden head. 
 
 " You have not answered my question, little one. 
 When you have done that, I will tell you what I think 
 of Olivier Logonna." 
 
 " It is not a reasonable question, godfather," she 
 pouted then she looked winningly in his face. " How 
 can I want a husband when I have you for a father ? " 
 
 Pic~rd brightened with pleasure ; he bent down and 
 kissed her fair forehead. 
 
 " Yes, my child, you must have a husband to take 
 care of you, and if you wish for this Logonna you shall
 
 FROM NORMANDY AND BRITTANY. 43 
 
 have him. He says he loves you, he has told the 
 Abbess he does, and God forbid that I, of all men, should 
 cross true love, even if it crosses my own wish. I had 
 other hopes, but never mind them now." 
 
 Frangoise flushed deeply and looked down. Picard 
 sighed ; it seemed to him that this was her answer. 
 She had chosen Olivier Logonna what need to trouble 
 her tender heart with the tale of Jehan Kergrist's 
 love ? 
 
 He stroked her soft hair gently. 
 
 " Then it is settled, my little girl ;" he spoke gently. 
 " I will tell Logonna that you will listen to him, and you 
 must come home for the wooing." 
 
 He felt the head twitch away from his fingers, and 
 Frangoise rose up quickly. 
 
 " Oh godfather, what do you mean why do we go 
 on teasing one another ? Monsieur Logonna looked 
 pleasant, and he spoke to me, but I could never marry 
 him never," she cried with emphasis. 
 
 Jean Picard looked helplessly at the pictures again. 
 What did Frangoise mean ? was there any hope for 
 Jehan, or should he, by speaking of his young friend's 
 love, ruin his hopes ? 
 
 " If Marie had given me any daughters," he thought, 
 his face getting more and more perplexed, " I should
 
 44 PICTURES AND LEGENDS 
 
 then have learned how to deal with Franchise. How 
 am I to find out what this wayward child means ? " 
 
 Francoise had stood silently watching his face ; she 
 was timid as well as impulsive, and it seemed to her 
 that her frankness had vexed her good godfather. 
 
 She looked down at her pretty feet, and twisted 
 her fingers together. 
 
 " Papa Picard ! " He looked up and the perplexity 
 cleared away. Ever since FranQoise had been a todd- 
 ling rosy child of three years old she had called him 
 Papa Picard ; and now it seemed to honest, troubled 
 Jean, that the reserve which her four years of convent 
 life had brought into their intercourse had suddenly 
 melted ; she was again his merry mischievous Fran^oise, 
 the child he was bound to advise and protect, and who 
 was to inherit his large fortune. 
 
 " Yes, yes, my little one ;" he rose up, put a hand 
 on each of her shoulders, and kissed her forehead. 
 " What does my Franqoise want of her old father ?" 
 
 She blushed and hung her head. " Do you then 
 wish me to marry Monsieur Logonna, godfather ?" 
 
 Then she looked up and saw perplexity come back 
 to his eyes and his lips, and she suddenly burst out 
 laughing. " Papa Picard, you want me to marry some 
 one else," she said. " Who is it ?"
 
 FROM NORMANDY AND BRITTANY. 45 
 
 Jean Picard took his hand from her shoulder, pulled 
 out his handkerchief, and wiped his hot face. 
 
 " The Holy Virgin be praised," he said ; " my child 
 shall not marry anyone she cannot love with her whole 
 heart !" He stopped, then he hurried on : " If she can 
 love Jehan Kergrist, Papa Picard would like her to marry 
 him." 
 
 Franchise turned away quickly, and Picard thought 
 she was vexed again ; she went up to the window and 
 began tapping the small diamond panes with her fingers, 
 while she gazed at some tall white lilies growing in one 
 of the square flower pots of the convent garden. 
 
 Picard waited but at last he grew impatient. 
 
 " I must be going, child ;" she turned round, and 
 he saw that her cheeks were glowing, and her eyes had 
 a sweet suffused look that was very like happiness. 
 "Come, come, this will do!" he muttered, "you are 
 getting on, Jean ; you begin to understand young girls!" 
 then with a twinkle in his eyes, " I am then to say ' No ' 
 to Monsieur Logonna, and ' No ' also to Jehan is it so, 
 my child?" 
 
 Franqoise screwed her lips together. " Suppose," 
 she looked up brightly in his face, " you only do one 
 message, Papa Picard ; I want to be so sure that Mon- 
 sieur Kergrist is in earnest that that he had better 
 ask me himself."
 
 46 PICTURES AND LEGENDS 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 A TEMPTATION. 
 
 FOUR years have passed since Jehan Kergrist wedded 
 fair FranQoise Nevez in the cathedral of St. Corentin. 
 It was a gay marriage, and the young couple had the 
 good will and hearty prayers of most Quimper folk. 
 Jehan had not hitherto had an enemy in the town, but 
 his marriage had at first cost him his dearest friend. 
 
 For six months Olivier Logon na disappeared from 
 Quimper, and when he came back he was a changed 
 man ; he gave up all the pleasures to which he had been 
 so much addicted, he never went into any company, nor 
 v was he often seen out of doors ; he spent all his time 
 in his counting-house, or in making journeys connected 
 with his business. At first he shunned his old com- 
 panions, but Jehan's frank cordiality broke down Olivier's 
 coldness, and soon the friends were to be seen crossing 
 the market-place together as usual, and frequently in 
 one another's shops ; on one point Olivier remained 
 firm he would not enter his neighbour's dwelling-house. 
 
 " I go nowhere," he said, and Jehan was obliged to 
 accept the excuse. 
 
 He accepted it; the more readily because FranQoise
 
 FROM NORMANDY AND BRITTANY. 47 
 
 had a strong dislike to Olivier. When she found out 
 that Logonna had known of his friend's long-cherished 
 love for her, she could not forgive his request to the 
 Abbess for leave to wed her. 
 
 " You are well rid of such a friend," she said to her 
 husband ; " he cannot be honest." 
 
 " Hush, my child," Jehan had answered. " Olivier 
 is one of the first and most highly honoured merchants 
 of Quimper." 
 
 And so he was his business went on increasing 
 and increasing, and people wondered why he did not 
 marry, for, like Jehan, he was an only son, and had lost 
 his parents early. 
 
 Jehan Kergrist's affairs had also prospered, and he 
 had two rosy little sons so like him that Jean Picard 
 often scolded FranQoise, and asked her why she had 
 not bestowed some of her own good looks on her little 
 ones. 
 
 But now, at the end of the four years, war broke out 
 in Brittany ; towns were taken and pillaged, and pro- 
 perty was no longer safe. 
 
 Jehan sat in his counting-house, with an open letter 
 in his hand. It was from England, and it held the 
 offer of a profitable undertaking ; indeed, the profits 
 offered were so large that he scarcely felt justified in
 
 48 PICTURES AND LEGENDS 
 
 refusing the business. But yet he shrank from leaving 
 his home at such an uncertain time of strife and blood- 
 shed. 
 
 He would not tell Franchise why should he lay on 
 her his perplexity ? There was no one to advise him, 
 his old friend Picard had gone to Normandy to secure 
 some property he held there. So Jehan had to keep 
 his troubles to himself, and he went about all that day 
 with an anxious face and a troubled spirit. 
 
 He met Olivier Logonna in the market-place, but 
 he said nothing to him. He could not confide to this 
 friend that which was still untold to Francoise. 
 
 In the evening, just as he was preparing, in the 
 homely fashion of those days, to close his shop with his 
 apprentice's help, he met Logonna on the door-step. 
 
 " I want you to come and see me, Jehan," Olivier 
 smiled genially. " I have shut myself up too long I 
 mean to admit my friends again, and I will begin with 
 you, the best friend I have." 
 
 Jehan hesitated ; he knew that in their boyhood he 
 had always told all his secrets to Olivier, and had re- 
 ceived none of his friend's in return ; there seemed, too, 
 a magnetic power in the silent Logonna which had 
 always drawn his friend on to confidence, but he did 
 not want to confide in him now. And yet if he told
 
 FROM NORMANDY AND BRITTANY. 49 
 
 Franqoise as soon as he came home, why should he not 
 ask Olivier's opinion ? He hesitated again. Would 
 Frangoise like him to go and spend an evening with the 
 man she so shrank from ? 
 
 " Thank you, my friend," he said ; " I fear I cannot 
 come." 
 
 " Then," Olivier looked very sad and downcast, " it 
 is as I feared you have never forgiven me, Jehan ; all 
 your kindness has been a sham." 
 
 He turned to go away, but Jehan caught his arm. 
 
 " Stay I will come. I will tell Franchise not to 
 wait for me." 
 
 Logonna stopped him. 
 
 " Do not say to your wife that you are coming to 
 me ; you can truly say you have business this evening, 
 for it is business I want to talk with you." 
 
 Jehan looked unwilling but he went back to speak 
 to his wife. 
 
 Only the maid Gwen and the eldest boy were in the 
 sitting-room. 
 
 " My mistress is upstairs with Conan," the girl said. 
 
 Jehan left a message for Francoise, and went back 
 to his friend ; he was not sorry to miss seeing his wife. 
 
 Since his marriage Jehan had added many comforts 
 
 to his home, and he was greatly struck by the bareness 
 
 E
 
 So PICTURES AND LEGENDS 
 
 of Olivier's room. The weather ^vas cold, but there 
 was no fire on the empty hearth ; and it seemed to 
 Kergrist that some of the ancient carved furniture he 
 remembered had disappeared. 
 
 Logonna was very friendly, but as soon as they were 
 seated he suddenly said 
 
 " Now, Jehan, what ails you ? have you made a bad 
 bargain, or lost a cargo of merchandise ? something is 
 troubling you." 
 
 His dark eyes glowed as he fixed them on Jehan's 
 face ; the long and narrow gaze had the strange fascina- 
 tion of a serpent. 
 
 Jehan struggled ; he tried to withdraw his eyes from 
 Logonna's, but he could not, and without his will his 
 tongue answered : " Yes, my friend ; I have a trouble." 
 
 " Ah," Olivier sighed, but he kept silence ; he trusted 
 to his eyes more than to his tongue. 
 
 Kergrist grew restless under the long narrow gaze ; 
 he fidgeted and tried to look away. In vain, his eyes 
 came back and settled with an increasing expression of 
 trust on his friend's face. 
 
 ft It seems selfish," he began, " to trouble you with 
 my troubles ; besides, I ought to be man enough to 
 bear them for myself." 
 
 " That is not the teaching we get in church," said
 
 FROM NORMANDY AND BRITTANY. 51 
 
 Olivier ; " the sermon of last Sunday told us to ' bear 
 one another's burdens.'" He looked devout, and crossed 
 himself, that his friend might see he was in earnest. 
 
 Jehan was puzzled and touched. Olivier had 
 never taken this tone with him before ; it was rather the 
 sort of reasoning he might have expected from Francoise. 
 
 " I will tell you my perplexity," he said at last ; 
 " your wits are sharper than mine, and you will help me 
 to see what I should do." Olivier listened with fixed 
 attention, but when Jehan spoke of the offer that had 
 been made him, a fierce light shone in Logonna's eyes ; 
 he checked this, and forced his lips into a smile of con- 
 gratulation. 
 
 " You would have to be absent for some time," he 
 said. 
 
 "Yes," Jehan sighed, "there is my trouble; who 
 can say what may happen to Quimper in two or three 
 months, in seven or eight weeks even, and I might be 
 longer ; am I right to risk so much for profit ?" 
 
 Olivier closed his eyes till they looked like two 
 black oblique lines. He sat thinking for a few moments. 
 
 " You say there is no time to lose," he said ; " you 
 must go at once or relinquish the affair ; well, let us 
 consider." 
 
 His heavy eyebrows met, and his lips closed tightly.
 
 52 PICTURES AND LEGENDS 
 
 For a moment he thought he would make Kergrist give 
 up the enterprise and snatch at it himself, so great was 
 his greed for gold ; but this could not be done secretly, 
 and he must not lose his character in Quimper for fair 
 dealing. Suddenly he looked up, his face aglow as he 
 smiled brightly at his friend. " I have it, Jehan ; you 
 can do it safely. Sell your stock and your house 
 you will easily find a purchaser convert all you have 
 into money, and then you can go away happy." 
 
 " And my wife and children ?" Jehan looked angry. 
 Did Olivier then suppose that he cared more for his 
 goods than he did for his family ? 
 
 " Your wife and children will be safe with Jean 
 Picard, and surely, Jehan, you will also rely on my 
 devotion." 
 
 Kergrist looked unwilling, but he grasped his friend's 
 outstretched hand. " And the money, what can I do 
 with it ? In such times as these, whose money is safe ? 
 I cannot leave it with Jean Picard, he is getting old." 
 
 " I will take charge of it," said Olivier. " I promise 
 you that I will watch over it is carefully as if it were 
 my own. Come, Jehan, trust my counsel ; be at rest ; 
 a husband and a father has no right to lose such a 
 splendid chance of doubling his fortune."
 
 FROM NORMANDY AND BRITTANY. 53 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 A TRAITOR. 
 
 A LITTLE way out of Quimper, beside the tree-shaded 
 river, there was a pleasant many-gabled stone house, 
 with a quaint round staircase tower at two of its 
 corners. The wall that shut it in from the path beside 
 the river was built of regular blocks of the same dark 
 grey greenstone, and in front, between this wall and the 
 house itself, was a pleasant strip of garden planted with 
 quaint starry flowers and aromatic herbs. Behind the 
 house, and on each side where the space was larger, 
 were orchards with purple plums and rich brown pears 
 ripening in the warm August sunshine. 
 
 Looking under the trees, you might have seen 
 beyond them a plot- of open ground, green and gold 
 just now, with its crop of gourds and cabbages, over 
 which a few butterflies still hovered, but over the herb- 
 bed in front hung quite a colony of busy bees, filling the 
 air with their soft humming. 
 
 There was a cheerful glow about the scene, and 
 when presently two fat square- faced children, in long 
 jackets and baggy breeches, came running out of the
 
 54 PICTURES AND LEGENDS 
 
 house, their merry faces and shrill outcries of joy 
 seemed quite in keeping with the rest. 
 
 " Mother, mother," they cried joyfully, " there are 
 more bees than ever to-day." 
 
 Fran^oise came out of the low round-headed door- 
 way. She smiled at her children's words, but the smile 
 faded at once from her pale face. She turned away 
 and walked on till she reached the right-hand corner of 
 the house, and then she went slowly into the orchard, 
 her black dress and white cap in harmony with the 
 green below and around her. 
 
 " Ah, my husband," she was saying to herself, "what 
 can keep you from me ? a year to-morrow since you 
 went away what can it be ?" 
 
 She had shrunk with a fear she could not give a 
 reason for from her husband's undertaking ; but Jean 
 Picard loudly advocated it, and offered so heartily to 
 take the young wife and children, to his home beside 
 the Odet, that Fran9oise yielded when she saw that her 
 husband really wished to go. 
 
 For the first two months she had from time to time 
 received letters from Jehan ; then the war had extended 
 from the frontier to the north coast of Brittany, and all 
 tidings ceased. At last came a letter by a travelling 
 pedlar, saying that Jehan had set out on his home
 
 FROM NORMANDY AND BRITTANY. 55 
 
 journey ; but this had come several months ago, and 
 no news could be gained of him. 
 
 Old age was telling on Jean Picard ; he had long 
 ago given up business, but of late, since a slight illness, 
 his health and mind had grown very feeble, and Francoise 
 felt she could no longer rely on his judgment. 
 
 He had grown into a habit of consulting Olivier 
 Logonna, and since he had become too feeble to go to 
 Quimper, the rich young merchant came twice or thrice 
 a week to the pleasant grey house beside the river, and 
 sat for hours with Picard. 
 
 At first Fran^oise avoided meeting him, but one 
 day, some time after Jehan's departure, Logonna sur- 
 prised her sitting with the old man. 
 
 Olivier was so humble, so deeply reverent in his 
 manner, he spoke so lovingly of her husband and of his 
 return, that when he went away Franqoise rebuked 
 herself for want of charity, and resolved to tolerate 
 Monsieur Logonna's visits. Jean Picard counted the 
 hours till he came again, and referred the most trifling 
 matters to Olivier. 
 
 The months lagged heavily by without any tidings, 
 and Logonna came still ofterier; Franchise was surprised 
 one day at her own disappointment because he failed to 
 come. She had few visitors, and it was a relief, after
 
 56 PICTURES AND LEGENDS 
 
 the childish babbling of the old man, to turn to some 
 one with her anxious hopes and fears ; besides this, she 
 grew conscious of a strange power in those half- closed 
 dark eyes that drew her irresistibly to confidence ; and as 
 Logonna walked beside her under the trees, watching 
 the changes of her sweet loving face, he saw his power ; 
 his purpose strengthened Franchise should be his, 
 spite of all her present love for Jehan Kergrist. 
 
 To-day beside the Odet he was busy with thoughts 
 of Fran^oise. 
 
 " My spies along the coast," he said, " are positive 
 that Jehan has not landed ; he is either in a French 
 prison, or he has fallen in trying to pass the frontier ; 
 he may have suffered shipwreck, or he may have married 
 an English wife." 
 
 He did not believe this last idea, but he tried to 
 force it on himself, so that he might impress it more 
 powerfully on Franqoise. He loved her too ardently to 
 be sure of his own influence. 
 
 " But even supposing the worst," he thought ; " if 
 Jehan comes back, he may hav? been plundered of his 
 
 gains, and then " he paused, a dark stern look, as if 
 
 the shadow of some evil being were reflected in his face, 
 changed him into a distorted likeness of himself ; "and 
 then," he went on with firm lips, "Jehan Kergrist is a
 
 FROM NORMANDY AND BRITTANY. 57 
 
 beggar, and Francoise will shrink from beggary ; her 
 own money belongs to the children, she cannot touch it, 
 and she has always been used to riches ; her ways and 
 habits are delicate and soft, she could not endure 
 privation or discomfort. No Jehan the beggar will 
 not be welcome, and but I am a fool to waste 
 thought on that which is impossible. Jehan must 
 not return." 
 
 He urged on his horse, and soon reached the gabled 
 house of Jean Picard. 
 
 "I will be careful," he said to himself; "no word 
 or look shall betray me till my time comes ;" and after 
 taking his horse to the stable, he stole softly into the 
 orchard. 
 
 When he came in sight of Franchise he stood still 
 gazing. He was keenly alive to things of beauty, and 
 the tall graceful figure, with its clasped hands and 
 saddened face, made a picture of melancholy in vivid 
 contrast to the glow all around, to the rich fruit smiling 
 among the leaves overhead, and the golden light dancing 
 in and out flecking the golden starred grass under foot, 
 to the gay cries of the unseen children, and the soothing 
 hum of the bees ; he felt compelled to stand and gaze. 
 FranQoise was pondering his influence. " What is it 
 that compels me to listen to him ?" she said ; " I believe
 
 58 PICTURES AND LEGENDS 
 
 in him while he is near, and yet the instant he leaves 
 me I shrink from him and his words." 
 
 All at once she looked round and saw him so 
 standing, with an eager look of excitement on his face. 
 
 She gave a little cry and ran towards him. 
 
 " You bring me news," she cried ; " oh, tell it 
 quickly !" 
 
 Her heaving bosom, her lovely eyes swimming with 
 uncontrolled emotion, showed Olivier the hold Jehan 
 yet possessed on her love. 
 
 He shook his head, with sorrow in his face and 
 burning anger in his heart. 
 
 " I have no news that he is coming, my sweet friend. 
 I have surmises, founded on my inquiries, it is true ; 
 but you will not listen to surmises." 
 
 She put her hand on his arm. " How do you mean ? 
 I will listen to anything that gives news of my husband." 
 
 Logonna turned away with a sad smile. 
 
 " Tell me," she \\ ent on ; "I will know what you 
 are hiding from me." Then she took her hand away 
 and spoke more gently : " You must pardon me, 
 Monsieur Logonna, but suspense makes me vehement 
 and uncourteous." 
 
 She looked at him sweetly, he could scarcely 
 restrain his love from showing itself.
 
 FROM NORMANDY AND BRITTANY. 59 
 
 " My friend," he kept his eyes on the ground, 
 "you must pardon me if I give you pain. I have 
 reason to think that Kergrist will not return ; he is by 
 this time doubtless the husband of another wife." 
 
 FranQoise grew colourless, then she flushed to the 
 edge of the matronly cap which hid her fair shining 
 hair. 
 
 " It is a false tale," she said sternly, " and you are 
 a false friend to repeat it." 
 
 " Pardon me," he hurried after her as she- turned away, 
 and he spoke eagerly ; " you are very hard on Jehan. 
 What can he do ? if he marries and stays in England, 
 he will be rich ; but he has lost all ; if he comes back 
 here, he is a beggar, and he beggars you also." 
 
 She stopped and looked at him with a scared face. 
 
 " A beggar ! that cannot be he told me he left 
 his money in safe charge in Quimper." She fixed her 
 eyes earnestly on Olivier. 
 
 " That was his first intention. I had settled to 
 take charge of the coin, and then at the last he changed 
 his mind and took it with him." 
 
 Franqoise stood very still and was silent. " He 
 could not be false to me," she said at last ; " he was 
 always true and honest." 
 
 " How patient, how trusting you are," Logonna
 
 60 PICTURES AND LEGENDS 
 
 sighed. " My heart aches to think how such constancy 
 is rewarded ; but indeed, dear lady, you waste it you 
 are certainly a free woman either Kergrist is dead, or 
 he is false, he is dead to you either way ; and yet, 
 because I only try to show you the truth, you say I am 
 a false friend. I swore to Kergrist that I would watch 
 over and protect you, and it is surely part of this duty 
 to tell you the result of the inquiries I have caused to 
 be made. I have no doubt that Kergrist is at this 
 moment happy with his new rich wife." 
 
 She turned on him passionately. 
 
 " You have some purpose in saying this why do 
 you do it ? Tell me that, too, and then I shall see 
 whether I ought to hate you or believe you." 
 
 Her eyes glowed : she panted with excitement, 
 and again she put her hand on his arm, as if to force 
 the truth from him. 
 
 The pressure of her slender fingers maddened him. 
 
 " I have no motive," he said, with passion that 
 equalled her own ; " but I love you more than my life. 
 Can you not feel, Fran^oise," he gathered her hands 
 hungrily into his " that you are more to me than life 
 itself?" 
 
 She stood still, so shocked with surprise that she 
 did not at once draw her hands from his burning clasp.
 
 FROM NORMANDY AND BRITTANY. 61 
 
 " What is any love you have known to mine ? " he 
 said ardently. " Can love that is fed by such love as 
 yours compare with the fire of a heart that has been 
 consuming itself all these years, its only nourishment 
 regret ? Oh, Fran^oise ! give me at least a hope ; do 
 not drive me to despair." 
 
 She had drawn away her hands, and stood looking 
 proudly at him. 
 
 " Monsieur Logonna, what you have just said I will 
 try to forget ; but you must not see me again." 
 
 Then she went swiftly round the angle of the 
 house, and left him alone among the fruit-trees. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 " HE WILL RETURN," SHE SAID. 
 
 JEAN PICARD was dead the funeral was over, and 
 to the surprise of everyone, the notary of Quimper 
 declared that the old merchant had left every liard he 
 possessed, not to his beloved godchild FranQoise Ker- 
 grist, but to his esteemed and trusted friend Olivier 
 Logonna ; who was also appointed guardian to the two 
 Kergrist children, in place of the dead man. 
 
 This arrangement had necessitated more than one
 
 62 PICTURES AND LEGENDS 
 
 meeting between the sorrowful Franqoise and Logonna ; 
 but though he looked deeply penitent, she treated him 
 with a lofty contempt, and only spoke to him when 
 absolutely required to do so. 
 
 She was almost heartbroken to-day. The house 
 and all that it contained was the property of Logonna. 
 He had sent her a message through the village priest 
 of Locmaria, the priest who had married her and 
 Jehan, to ask her to consider herself as much mistress 
 of the house as she had been in her godfather's lifetime, 
 but she had refused. She saw that Father Felix 
 thought highly of Olivier, and she did not like to accuse 
 him, but she would not accept his offer. 
 
 " You will find it hard to live, my daughter ;" 
 Father Felix shook his head with deprecation. " Both 
 rent and provisions are dearer since the war began, and 
 you will find it hard to live in Quimper on what 
 remains to you." 
 
 " It will not be for long, Father ; Jehan must soon 
 come back now." 
 
 Father Felix shook his head ; Olivier had per- 
 suaded him that Jehan was dead, and more than once 
 the priest had advised Franqoise to consider herself 
 a widow ; but she remained obstinate. 
 
 " Farewell, my child," he said ; " I hope you will
 
 FROM NORMANDY AND BRITTANY. 63 
 
 change your mind and stay here. I shall come again 
 to-morrow." 
 
 He went out of the long low room, along a short 
 clay-floored passage, but it seemed to her that he stopped 
 halfway. She heard a cry, and then back came the 
 sound of shuffling feet, and the priest's white scared face 
 looked in on her again. 
 
 " Franqoise," he spoke hoarsely, " my good child, pre- 
 pare yourself: you are right or it is his spirit." 
 
 " It is Jehan !" but she could not move : she stood 
 with clasped hands and straining eyes awaiting her 
 husband. 
 
 He came in. He was so grey, so wan and weary- 
 looking such a beggar in appearance, that he was 
 scarcely to be recognised ; but Franchise took no note 
 of this. She sprang forward and clasped him in her 
 arms ; then she laid her head on his shoulder and sobbed 
 out her joy and sorrow. 
 
 Father Felix stole quietly away to fetch the children 
 He was glad that Fran^oise's sorrow was over, but still 
 if she had been really a widow she might have married 
 the rich man Olivier Logonna, and Olivier had pro- 
 mised a new shrine to the church of Locmaria. Father 
 Felix was vexed with himself that he was not more 
 entirely satisfied.
 
 64 PICTURES AND LEGENDS 
 
 When he came back with the two children he was 
 greatly surprised at the change in Jehan's manner. His 
 face was red and angry, his eyes sparkled, and he was 
 standing in front of Francoise, questioning her. 
 
 The little boys hung back shyly ; they did not re- 
 cognise their father in this soiled, ragged man. 
 
 Jehan threw himself on a chair, and pointed at them 
 angrily. 
 
 " They, too, take me for a beggar," he said. " Well, 
 Father Felix, are you also in this precious conspiracy, 
 to defraud me of what is really mine ?" 
 
 Francoise did not speak. She raised first one child 
 and then another, and when she had placed them in their 
 father's arms, she hurried to seek food for the wanderer. 
 Meantime the children's kisses softened Jehan. 
 
 He turned more courteously to Father Felix who 
 had begun to question him, and told him how he had 
 been seized by a Danish pirate and made to work on 
 board his captor's ship till he at last contrived to escape ; 
 how he had been plundered of all he had, and thus had 
 been forced to make a long journey on foot, and to beg 
 his way from Bordeaux, near which place he had landed ; 
 and now how his wife had greeted him with the news 
 of Jean Picard's will, and also that Logonna had told 
 her that her husband was a beggar.
 
 FROM NORMANDY AND BRITTANY. 65 
 
 "And are you not one, then, my son?" Father 
 Felix brightened with a sudden hope. He had been in 
 terrible anxiety for the future he saw for Franchise with 
 this ruined husband. 
 
 " No, I swear by St. Corentin. No I gave all my 
 money, a very large sum, to Logonna, and he swore to 
 watch over it as though it were his own, and to keep 
 the matter a secret." 
 
 The priest gave a deep sigh of relief. 
 
 " And he has been secret, my son ; even to me he 
 has not said one word of the deposit entrusted to him." 
 
 " But I tell you, father, he has denied its existence. 
 He has told my wife that I changed my plans and gave 
 him nothing." 
 
 Father Felix smiled. 
 
 " Do you think, my son, he would tell a woman 
 that which he concealed from me ? It was but a pious 
 deception to keep your secret from all. Olivier is a 
 good man, and he has watched over your wife and 
 children like a brother." 
 
 Jehan shrugged his shoulders. 
 
 " I loved Olivier dearly," he said ; " but I did not 
 think he would have juggled my wife out of her inherit- 
 ance ; he " 
 
 The priest raised his hand.
 
 66 PICTURES AND LEGENDS 
 
 " Forbear, my son. That was not his fault ; the 
 old man was childish and feeble ; he grew so to depend 
 on Logonna that he could not bear him out of his sight : 
 he was besotted over him." 
 
 Jehan had grown calm and like himself, and when 
 Franqoise came into the room he folded her tenderly in 
 his arms. 
 
 " My child," he said, " your godfather's will must be 
 seen to. I will eat a crust of bread and drink a glass 
 of wine no more," he waved away the salver of good 
 things which Gwen carried behind her mistress ; " and 
 then, father, by your leave we will all go to Quimper 
 and find out the truth for ourselves." 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 THE ORDEAL. 
 
 THE trio took some time to reach Quimper. Fran9oise 
 rode behind her husband on the old grey horse that 
 had often carried her and her godfather, and Father 
 Felix walked beside them. Before they reached the 
 city gates the news had spread of Jehan's return. 
 
 The Bishop of Quimper sat alone in the Palace 
 Library. At that time he and the Chapter of the Cathe-
 
 FROM NORMANDY AND BRITTANY. 67 
 
 dral regulated the affairs of the city of Quimper, and, 
 like a good captain, since war had broken out he had 
 remained at the helm of public affairs. 
 
 A knock ; the curtain which masked the door was 
 drawn aside, and a servant asked an audience for Mon- 
 sieur Olivier Logonna. 
 
 The bishop bowed, and then summoned a welcoming 
 smile. He had no reason to dislike Logonna ; Olivier 
 was not liberal, but the priest of Locmaria asserted that 
 he paid his dues, and led a good life and yet the bishop 
 had always shrunk from the dark-browed subtly smiling 
 man. 
 
 " Good day, my son," he said, as Olivier bent low 
 to kiss his hand ; " what can I do for you ?" 
 
 Olivier looked very sad. 
 
 " My lord, I am cast down with trouble. My fellow- 
 townsman and friend Jehan Kergrist, whom we all 
 thought dead, has returned though, indeed, from what 
 I hear, it is like enough that it is not he, but some im- 
 postor who has learned his story, and is passing himself 
 off on the poor wife as her husband ; if it be the true 
 Jehan, then, alas, he is distraught and possessed." 
 
 The words jarred on the bishop ; he looked up 
 sharply at Olivier. 
 
 "On what do you found this charge?"
 
 68 PICTURES AND LEGENDS 
 
 But there was another rapping at the door, and be- 
 fore the- bishop had given leave the servant came in 
 hurriedly. 
 
 " Pardon, my lord but there is good news ; Jehan 
 Kergrist is not dead after all ; he is waiting without." 
 
 The man had known Jehan all his life, and his eyes 
 were bright with pleasure. 
 
 " He may come in ;" the bishop turned his head 
 away from Olivier, who tried to interpose. 
 
 Jehan came in, followed by the priest and Frangoise ; 
 they all knelt and kissed the prelate's hand, but the 
 bishop was shocked by the change he saw in Jehan. 
 
 Logonna came forward and greeted him. 
 
 " Welcome home, friend," he said ; " why, we had all 
 given you up ;" he looked into Jehan's eyes, and Ker- 
 grist's doubts melted into renewed trust in his friend. 
 
 " I came to Quimper to find you, Olivier ; to ask 
 you to restore the precious deposit I confided to you. 
 I have lost all besides," he said frankly ; " that is to say, 
 while this war lasts and trade is at an end with foreign 
 countries." 
 
 Logonna looked at the bishop, and touched his fore- 
 head. 
 
 " My good Jehan, you mistake," he said gently. 
 " Do you not remember what passed between us ? you
 
 FROM NORM A ND Y A ND BRITTA N Y. 69 
 
 gave me this precious charge, but at the last you changed 
 yo'ur mind and I restored it to you surely you remem- 
 ber that?" 
 
 Jehan looked at him keenly, but Olivier met his 
 eyes with a look of gentle pity in his dark narrow gaze. 
 
 " You are distraught, Olivier Logonna, or you are 
 the blackest of liars. Recollect yourself; it was you 
 who first urged this journey on me, and then you bade 
 me secretly sell all that I had, and give you the money 
 to take care of ; and I gave it." 
 
 The bishop looked earnestly from one face to the 
 other. 
 
 " You are both men of good repute," he said, " and 
 yet one of you must be a great sinner. Jehan, are you 
 sure of what you say ?" 
 
 Spite of his secret shrinking from Logonna, the 
 man's calm gentleness seemed to attest his innocence ; 
 the angry face and impetuous gestures of miserable- 
 looking, beggarly Jehan went against him in the bishop's 
 mind. 
 
 " Oh, my lord, do not you doubt me," he said im- 
 ploringly ; " I have no proof but my word, but I have 
 never broken that." 
 
 "Did you take no receipt, then, for this money?" 
 The bishop's manner had become colder towards Jehan.
 
 70 PICTURES AND LEGENDS 
 
 " No ; I would have as soon thought of asking a 
 receipt from you, my lord." 
 
 The bishop sat musing; at last he looked sadly at 
 Jehan. 
 
 " I must summon the Chapter, and you shall know 
 the result of their conference ; but I must warn you, 
 Jehan, that I fear it cannot be favourable to you. Till 
 you went away, your good repute was equal to Monsieur 
 Logonna's ; but you have been away for more than 
 a year, and we do not know of your doings in the in- 
 terval ; this will, I fear, go against you." 
 
 Frangoise had stood clasping her hands on her 
 bosom, but now she stepped forward and fell on her 
 knees. 
 
 " My lord, we do not know what Jehan has been 
 doing all this while, but a straight tree does not at once 
 grow crooked ; until he went, his life had been spotless. 
 Ah, my lord, no one knew how good he was but I." 
 She paused to get courage. 
 
 " Peace, my poor child," said the bishop ; " if 
 Logonna had a wife, she would say as much for him as 
 you do for Jehan. Now I must send you all away that 
 I may consider this matter." 
 
 Franqoise started up. " She could not say so, for 
 he is not a good man," she cried with passion in her
 
 FROM NORMANDY AND BRITTANY. 71 
 
 voice. " Ah, my lord, through this year you and others 
 have seen but the outside of that false man ; he affirmed 
 to me that my husband was beggared and had left me 
 for a new wife, and he besought me to love him him, 
 Olivier Logonna ; traitor, you know this is truth !" 
 
 She almost screamed out the last words, and pointed 
 at Olivier, who had flushed deeply while she spoke. 
 
 The bishop looked very stern. " I cannot enter in- 
 to a fresh matter till the first is settled ; but if this is 
 true, Logonna, it will deeply injure your cause." 
 
 Olivier had recovered himself. " I forgive her, my 
 lord," he said quietly ; " no one can blame a wife's ex- 
 pedient to save her husband's credit." 
 
 The bishop seemed as if he did not hear ; he went 
 out with a troubled look, but he bade Father Felix 
 keep Jehan and his wife safely in a room by themselves 
 till they were summoned to the Chapter-house. Log- 
 onna, he said, could return to his own house and hold 
 himself in readiness. 
 
 The trial is over. Logonna and Jehan stand in 
 the midst of the Chapter-house with the circle of grave 
 faces bent on them. Most of the reverend judges side 
 with Logonna, a few with Jehan, but these last are
 
 72 PICTURES AND LEGENDS 
 
 silenced, when all at once Logonna stands up and prays 
 to be heard. 
 
 " Holy Fathers," he says reverently, " I am ready 
 to swear by the Blessed Crucifix on the high altar 
 that I restored to Jehan the money he accuses me of ; 
 will the proof content you ?" 
 
 There is universal assent, and the bishop decrees 
 that the oath shall at once be taken. 
 
 The procession forms, and slowly enters the cathe- 
 dral from the long vaulted passage that connects the 
 -Chapter-house with it. The church is full of the excited 
 townsmen and women of Quimper. Fran9oise walks 
 as close as she can to her husband. 
 
 And now they stand before the high altar ; Logonna 
 and Kergrist are side by side, and after some moments 
 of solemn prayer, the bishop mounts the steps and 
 stretches out his hands towards the crucifix ; presently 
 he beckons Logonna forward. 
 
 Olivier turns to his neighbour : " Hold this for me," 
 he whispers, and he hands Jehan the stick he has been 
 walking with ; then he too mounts the steps of the 
 altar. 
 
 " Swear," the bishop says, and there is a breathless 
 hush. The population of Quimper have thronged into
 
 FROM NORMANDY AND BRITTANY. 73 
 
 the cathedral, but there is no sound ; in the deep still- 
 ness Fran^oise hears the throbbing of her heart. 
 
 " I swear," Olivier says how feeble his voice sounds! 
 " that I restored to my friend and neighbour Jehan 
 Kergrist the money which he says I received from him. 
 I swear it on this holy symbol." 
 
 He stretches out his hand and touches the crucifix. 
 Ah, what is that ! the feet of the holy image loosen 
 from the cross a drop of blood falls another, and 
 then another. 
 
 Jehan's horror overmasters him, he lets fall the stick 
 and reels against Father Felix who stands near him 
 with Francoise. There is a chink of metal, and lo ! 
 the staff has broken, and from it has poured the stolen 
 treasure, the precious deposit of Jehan Kergrist. 
 
 There is a pause, a deep hush, and then a groan 
 rises from the assembled people ; the bishop waves his 
 hand to motion Logonna from the altar which he has 
 profaned. 
 
 But he stands immovable, and they seize him and 
 drag him away ; he bursts into a shriek he does not 
 resist, but laughs and mocks at them with the gestures 
 of an idiot. The awful judgment has taken away his 
 reason.
 
 74 
 
 PICTURES AND LEGENDS 
 
 In one of the side chapels of the fair cathedral of 
 St. Corentin there is over the altar the representation 
 of this legend and of the crime of Logonna of Ouimper. 
 
 MARKET-WOMEN, QVIMPER.
 
 FROM NORMANDY AND BRITTANY. 75 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 QUIMPERLE LE FAOUET THE STORY OF "THE MILLER 
 AND HIS LORD." 
 
 OUR next halting-place was at Quimperle, perhaps the 
 most exquisitely placed town in Brittany, at the junc- 
 tion of two rivers, the Elle and the Isole, hence its 
 name Kemper-Elle, contracted into Quimperle, for 
 kemper signifies confluent. Below the charming little 
 town the united rivers are called Laita, and on this is 
 the ferry the scene of Barba Keroes's story. But the 
 lovely river Elle winds its way through hills and wild 
 rocky glens till it reaches Le Faoue't, tempting the 
 fisherman throughout its course with shady trout-pools, 
 in which the fish seem inexhaustible, for even salmon are 
 caught in the Elle. Beyond Le Faoue't it winds round 
 the base of the lofty rock, on the side of which perches 
 the marvellous church of Ste. Barbe, and it was on our 
 return from seeing this wonder for it seemed to us one 
 of the most curious attestations of a legend we ever 
 had met with that we heard the story of " The 
 Miller and his Lord."
 
 76 
 
 PICTURES AND LEGENDS 
 
 We had breakfasted at the inn of Le Faouet on our 
 way to Ste. Barbe, and had been so content with the 
 fare that we settled to dine there on our return instead 
 of going on at once to Quimperle ; but when we proposed 
 to order our dinner, the hostess a pleasant-looking 
 dark-eyed Bretonne demurred : " There is table d'h6te 
 at five o'clock," she said, " and there will be plenty to eat." 
 
 MARKET-HOUSE, LE FAOUET. 
 
 When we got back, very tired and hungry, from 
 Ste. Barbe, our company consisted of the host and two 
 dirty-looking townsmen of Le Faouet, and the dinner 
 was so very untempting that if we had not been afraid
 
 FROM NORMANDY AND BRITTANY. 77 
 
 of the long drive in the dark to Quimperle we should 
 have ordered something else. 
 
 When we had finished, our driver could not be 
 found, though we had sent word he was to get the 
 carriage ready. We strolled out into the market-place 
 and bought some pears and Breton buttons, and greatly 
 admired the gold and silver ribbons which were for sale 
 in company with some charming silk and velvet skull- 
 caps for babies, embroidered with spangles of the most 
 vivid colours. 
 
 This market-place of Le Faouet is very picturesque, 
 a sort of double avenue of lofty trees, with a great 
 market-house at one end. 
 
 Beyond the market-place, near the desolate-looking 
 church, we saw an acquaintance we had made at Quimper, 
 an old white-haired beggar, blind of one eye, and with 
 a lame arm. As we came up to him he held his hat 
 out without recognising us. But the first word spoken 
 was enough. 
 
 " Ah," he said, " you are the gentlemen and lady 
 who like to hear stories ; come and listen now to this 
 one of the miller who sold his wares in the market of 
 Le Faouet."
 
 78 PICTURES AND LEGENDS 
 
 & HcpnD of He jfaouet* 
 
 THE MILLER AND HIS LORD. 
 
 A GOOD many years ago there lived at Meslay : which 
 village is, as you know, at some little distance from 
 Le Faouet a very poor miller. So poor was he that 
 Michaelmas had come and gone four times without his 
 paying the rent of his mill to the Baron his Lord. 
 
 The Baron went out for a day's shooting, and finding 
 no sport turned to come home in a very bad temper. 
 
 What should he meet with on the way but the 
 miller's cow, so he fired at her and shot her dead. 
 
 The miller's wife was not far off, and saw what had 
 happened ; she ran home as fast as she could to her 
 husband. 
 
 " Alas ! alas !" she cried, " we are ruined. The Lord 
 Baron has killed our cow." 
 
 The miller said nothing, but he thought a good 
 deal, and he resolved to take vengeance when the time 
 came. 
 
 He skinned his cow that night, and as he lived some 
 miles from Le Faouet, and next day was market-day 
 there, he started off about midnight with his cow-skin 
 over his shoulder.
 
 FROM NORMANDY AND BRITTANY. 79 
 
 He soon reached a thick wood, and he remembered 
 that it was said to be the resort of a band of robbers. 
 Such a panic seized him that he climbed up a tree and 
 waited for daylight. He had not been long in hiding 
 when he heard a noise, and soon the band of robbers 
 stopped under the very tree he was in to divide their 
 plunder. 
 
 By the light of a lantern they had with them, the 
 miller saw a store of treasures spread on the ground, 
 and there was a quarrelling and noise over it, the like of 
 which he had never heard. 
 
 " Parbleu," he said to himself, " if I could only get 
 hold of that money I should be a rich man," and suddenly 
 he drops the cow-skin down among the quarrellers. 
 
 At sight of the horned head and black hide for it 
 was a black cow remember the robbers thought Satan 
 had come for their souls. Off they scamper as fast as 
 they can, leaving their treasure on the ground. 
 
 " Well done you," says the miller, " that was a 
 happy thought." 
 
 Down he scrambles out of the tree, gathers up the 
 money, stows it away in his cow-skin, and runs all the 
 way home. 
 
 The miller and his wife went on counting the 
 money till daybreak, and then they gave over. It was 
 quite beyond their arithmetic.
 
 80 PICTURES AND LEGENDS 
 
 So next morning the miller bade his wife go and 
 borrow a bushel measure from the Baron. 
 
 She went up to the castle and gave her husband's 
 message. 
 
 " What can you want with a bushel measure?" said 
 the Baron scornfully. 
 
 " My Lord Baron, we want to measure money with 
 it" 
 
 " Money did you say money ? Do you dare to 
 mock me, woman ?" 
 
 "I mock you! No, no, my Lord Baron, I am 
 telling you the truth. Come and see for yourself." 
 
 So the Baron went home with the miller's wife, 
 not knowing what to think. 
 
 When he saw the table all covered with crown 
 pieces, he was beside himself with surprise. 
 
 " Where did you get that money from ?" he asked, 
 eagerly. 
 
 " I got it by selling my cow-skin, my Lord Baron, 
 which I sold at the market Le Faouet, yesterday." 
 
 " Your cow-skin ? Cow-skins are fetching a good 
 price then." 
 
 " I should think so, my Lord, and you did me a 
 great service when you killed my cow." 
 
 The Baron stared ; he said nothing, no not so
 
 FROM NORMANDY AND BRITTANY. 8 1 
 
 much as fare you well, he ran off to his castle at full 
 speed, and gave orders to kill and skin every cow he 
 had. Next market-day he sent off one of his men to 
 Le taouet with his cowskins, there was a horse-load 
 of them, and told him to ask a bushel of silver for 
 every skin. 
 
 The man rode off with the skins, and after a \vhLe 
 he reached the great marketplace of Le Faoue't. 
 
 " How do you sell your skins ? " said a tanner, eyeing 
 the load on the horse. 
 
 " A bushel's weight of silver for each skin," an- 
 swered the servant. 
 
 " Come, come," said the tanner, " be serious can't 
 you ; how much a skin ?" 
 
 " What I tell you, a bushel's weight of silver." 
 
 Another tanner came up and got the same answer, 
 another, and then another, till at last all the tanners 
 grew so angry, that they set upon the poor servant, 
 beat him, rolled him on the ground, and took all his 
 skins away from him. 
 
 When he got back to the castle his Lord came 
 out eagerly. 
 
 " Where is the money ? " he said. 
 
 " Ah, the money," the poor fellow scratched his 
 head. " I know nothing about money, I only got
 
 82 PICTURES AND LEGENDS 
 
 blows and kicks at Le Faouet ; I am bruised from head 
 to foot." 
 
 " The miller has cheated me," cried the Baron in a 
 rage, " but never mind, my turn will come." 
 
 The miller cut up the dead cow and made a grand 
 supper, and then he bade his wife go and invite the 
 Lord Baron to come to it. 
 
 So she went and delivered her husband's invitation. 
 
 "How now?" The Baron grew red with rage. 
 " How dare you mock me again ; mocking me in my 
 own house too." 
 
 She wrung her hands. 
 
 " Mon Dieu, my good Lord, how could I dare make 
 fun of you ? Neither I nor my husband would venture 
 to think of such a thing." 
 
 " Well," said the Baron, " I will come, if it is only to 
 give your husband a bit of my mind. He thinks to 
 outwit me perhaps." 
 
 So the Baron came and supped at the mill. There 
 was quite a feast : fruit, and bacon, and roast beef. 
 There was cider, and wine, and brandy ; never had 
 there been such a spread at the mill. 
 
 Towards the end of the meal, when the liquor had 
 been pretty freely drunk, and had warmed the hearts 
 of the company, the miller said to his Lord
 
 FROM NORMANDY AND BRITTANY, 83 
 
 " All the world knows how knowing you are, my 
 good Lord, and yet, with all your sharpness, I wager 
 you are not able to do what I can do." 
 
 "How so?" 
 
 " I don't think you can raise the dead. Now I 
 will kill my wife before your face, and then bring 
 her to life again by playing the fiddle." 
 
 " I bet you twenty crowns you won't do it," says the 
 Baron eagerly. 
 
 " And I bet twenty crowns that I will." 
 
 " Let us see it done, let us see it done," cry all the 
 rest. " The Lord Baron holds to his wager." 
 
 The miller snatches a knife from the table, springs 
 at his wife and makes a feint of cutting her throat, and 
 she falls to all appearance dead on the ground, but the 
 miller has really only cut a bladder full of blood pur- 
 posely slung round her neck. 
 
 The Baron, too far off to detect the trick, was horrified 
 when he saw the blood spout forth. 
 
 But the miller takes up his fiddle, settles it under 
 his chin, and begins to play a lively air, and at the sound 
 of the first notes his wife jumps up, and dances away 
 as if nothing had ever ailed her, while the Baron stands 
 gaping at her in staring wonder. 
 
 " Give me that fiddle, miller," he stretches out his
 
 84 PICTURES AND LEGENDS 
 
 hand for it, " and I will let you off two years' rent for 
 the mill." 
 
 " Agreed," says the miller, the bargain is struck, and 
 the Baron hurries home in the greatest delight with the 
 fiddle under his arm. 
 
 Going along he says to himself, " This is a clever 
 thing I have learnt from that dolt of a miller. My 
 wife is getting old, and by this means I can make her 
 young and able to dance again." 
 
 He soon reaches home, and finds his wife sound 
 asleep in bed. 
 
 " So much the better," thinks the Baron, " she will 
 be none the wiser, good woman." 
 
 So he fetches a long and sharp knife from the 
 kitchen, and cuts his wife's throat, and then he plays 
 the fiddle, but he played and played till his wrists ached ; 
 the poor woman never even stirred, she was as dead as 
 a sheep. 
 
 " What a fool that miller is," the Baron thought ; 
 " he bids me cut my wife's throat, and now, when I 
 play the fiddle just as he did, she does not come to life 
 one bit. He must have left out something. I must 
 go at once and ask him what else I must do." 
 
 So off he ran to the mill ; when he got there, he 
 saw the miller in his shirt sleeves, holding a whip, with 
 which he was furiously whipping a huge caldron which
 
 FROM NORMANDY AND BRITTANY. 85 
 
 * 
 stood out in the midst of the mill-yard full of boiling 
 
 water. The caldron had just been taken off the fire, 
 but you see the Baron knew nothing of this. 
 
 "Holy Peter, miller;" he cried, "what are you about?" 
 
 The Baron was so surprised at this sight that he 
 stood open-mouthed gazing at the miller. He forgot 
 all about his dead wife. 
 
 " I am making the soup boil, my Lord. See how 
 fast it boils." 
 
 The Baron goes close up to the caldron and looks 
 at it with much attention. 
 
 " Yes, yes, I see," he says ; " and do you mean to tell 
 me that your whip can make soup boil in this fashion ?" 
 
 "To be sure it can, my Lord. I do it to save wood ; 
 bless your lordly heart, wood is much too dear and 
 costly for the like of us." 
 
 " So it is ; you speak truly, varlet ;" then, stretching 
 out his hand, " give me that whip, miller, and I will for- 
 give you the other two years." 
 
 " A bargain, my lord Baron ; I give it to you." 
 
 So the Baron takes the whip from the miller and 
 hastens back to his castle. 
 
 On his way home he says to himself, "And now I 
 will cut down all my woods ; their sale will bring me in 
 a heap of money."
 
 86 PICTURES AND LEGENDS 
 
 And when he reached home he sold every tree on 
 his land. 
 
 One Saturday evening the Baron's cook came to 
 him with a sorely troubled face. 
 
 " My Lord," she said, " how am I to cook the dinner 
 to-morrow ? I have now neither wood nor faggots to 
 burn, they are all spent." 
 
 " All right," her master answers ; " do not you trouble 
 yourself, cook, I know how to manage without wood or 
 faggots either." 
 
 Next day being Sunday, the Baron bids his house- 
 hold attend high mass. 
 
 " Go all of you," says he, " men and women too. 
 Grand Jean only will stay at home with me." 
 
 Now Grand Jean was very tall, and he was the 
 Baron's chief attendant. 
 
 " And the dinner, my Lord," says the anxious cook ; 
 "who will get that ready?" 
 
 " Do not you trouble yourself, but take yourself off 
 to church as I bid you." 
 
 So off they all start for the village church. 
 
 As soon as they are all out of sight the Baron says 
 to Grand Jean, 
 
 " Bring the great caldron, and set it in the middle 
 of the yard, and now fill it with water."
 
 FROM NORMANDY AND BRITTANY. 87 
 
 Then the Baron puts into the caldron fat and salt- 
 meat, cabbages and turnips, salt and pepper, every- 
 thing, in short, requisite to make good soup. Next he 
 takes off his coat and waistcoat, and begins to whip 
 the water in the caldron with the miller's whip but it 
 is in vain he whips and whips, and the water re- 
 mains as cold as at first. 
 
 " My Lord, my Lord," cries the astonished Grand 
 Jean, " what are you doing there ?" 
 
 " Hold your tongue, fool, and you will see." 
 
 And Grand Jean stands looking, and the Baron 
 begins to whip again with all his might. Every now 
 and then he puts a finger into the caldron, but the 
 water gets no warmer, and he begins to whip again. 
 
 At last he stops quite tired out. " Grand Jean," 
 he cries furiously, " I begin to fear the miller has 
 hoaxed me." 
 
 " He has certainly hoaxed you, my Lord," says 
 Grand Jean, " there can be no doubt about it." 
 
 " Never mind, he shall die, and then there'll be an 
 end to his hoaxes." 
 
 " Give him a sound taste of your whip instead, my 
 Lord. Death is a heavy punishment." 
 
 " No, no ! I tell you, nothing but death will cure 
 him. Hoaxing me indeed his lord and master !
 
 88 PICTURES AND LEGENDS 
 
 Come along quick to the mill bring a sack with ycu 
 hurry along we will tie the miller in the sack and 
 throw him in the great pond and let him drown." 
 
 Grand Jean shrugged his shoulders, then he threw 
 a sack across them, and followed his master to the 
 miller. 
 
 They seized the poor miller at unawares, and tied 
 him up in the sack, and then they hoisted it across 
 the mill-horse, for the great pond was some distance off. 
 
 As they went along, they saw coining along the 
 _road behind them a merchant with three horses laden 
 with bales of goods. The great fair of Le Faouet was 
 to take place next day, and he was on his way to it. 
 The Baron was greatly frightened ; he wanted to drown 
 the miller, but he did not want to be found out. 
 
 "Come along, Grand Jean," he cries ; "let us hide 
 behind the hedge bank out of sight till the merchant 
 has passed by." 
 
 And in a twinkle he and Grand Jean have 
 scrambled up the high bank over the hedge, and down 
 out of sight and hearing into the field beyond, leaving 
 the sack with the miller in it leaning against the bank 
 beside the road ; for the great pond is so near that 
 they have lifted the sack down from the mill-horse. 
 
 When the miller hears the trot trot of the mer-
 
 FROM NORMANDY AND BRITTANY. 89 
 
 chant's horses, he cries out, " No, I will not take her 
 I will not take her." 
 
 At this the astonished merchant goes up to the sack. 
 
 " Hulloa," he exclaims, " what does this mean ? 
 who are you in the sack ?" But the miller cries out the 
 more, " I will not have her no, I will not have her." 
 
 "You will not have whom ?" asks the merchant. 
 
 " The only daughter of a rich Baron, he is very 
 rich ; and he has only this child, and he is carrying me 
 off so as to force me to marry her." 
 
 "And is she really very 1 rich ?" the merchant asks 
 greedily. 
 
 " Rich ! I believe you, richer than any one in these 
 parts." 
 
 " Then I will willingly marry her," says the mer- 
 chant, eagerly. 
 
 " Very well, nothing is easier, you have only to 
 take my place in the sack, and she is yours ; only be 
 quick about it. The Baron will be back directly." 
 
 The merchant unties the sack, lets out the miller, 
 and takes his place, and the miller ties him up securely, 
 and then smacking the merchant's whip he drives the 
 baggage horses on to Le Faoue't. 
 
 He is scarcely out of sight when the Baron and 
 Grand Jean come back to the sack.
 
 9 o PICTURES AND LEGENDS 
 
 " I will have her I will marry her," cries the 
 merchant. 
 
 "You will marry whom ?" asks the Baron. 
 
 " Your daughter, my lord." 
 
 Now the Baron had no daughter. 
 
 " Ah, son of Satan," he cries ; " go and seek her then 
 at the bottom of the great pond." 
 
 And with that they took up the sack and flung it 
 into the pond ; and the merchant has not since been 
 heard of. 
 
 Next morning the Baron and his attendant, Grand 
 Jean, go off to the fair at Le Faouet. 
 
 They visit one gay shop after another ; but all at 
 once they stand still they are struck with amazement 
 for there stands the miller of Meslay behind a counter 
 spread with shining jewellery. 
 
 " How now, miller," says the Baron ; " is it really 
 you?" 
 
 " Yes, certainly, my Lord. You will buy some 
 trinkets of me, will you not ?" 
 
 " But how is it you are not in the pond ?" 
 
 " Aha, you see, my Lord, I was not comfortable 
 there ; .and yet I return you many thanks for my 
 ducking, for it is in the pond that I found all the 
 beautiful things you see here."
 
 FROM NORMANDY AND BRITTANY. 91 
 
 " You do not say so ?" 
 
 " Yes, yes, I do. I only regret one thing, and that 
 is, that you did not throw me a little farther in ; if you 
 had done so I should have fallen among the golden 
 trinkets, these you see are only silver gilt." 
 
 " Is that so?" 
 
 " As true as I stand here, my Lord." 
 
 " Then the golden trinkets are there still." 
 
 " Yes, at least I fancy so, but you must hasten if 
 you really want to find them." 
 
 " Saint Fiacre ! this is indeed news," and off went 
 the Baron as fast as he could, and off went Grand Jean 
 behind him. They rode home, and then -they ran to 
 the pond. Grand Jean got there first ; he jumped in, 
 and as he was very tall he raised his hand high out 
 of the water to ask for help, for the poor fellow could 
 not swim. 
 
 " See there," says the Baron, " he points to tell me 
 to jump farther ; what a good fellow, he doubtless sees 
 the gold farther in." 
 
 And he runs back, takes a spring, and jumps as far 
 as he can into the water. 
 
 And since then 'he has never been heard of. 
 
 And this is the story of the miller of Meslay.
 
 CHATEAU OF HENAN. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 PONT-AVEN THE LEGEND OF THE ROCKING-STONE OF 
 TREGUNC. 
 
 FROM Quimperle we drove over to Pont-Aven, a quaint 
 little town picturesquely situated on the river Aven. 
 The Bretons often call Pont-Aven " the town of millers," 
 there are so many mills on the rock-strewn little river.
 
 PICTURES AND LEGENDS. 93 
 
 Pont-Aven is a favourite resort of artists, French, 
 English, and American, who lodge chiefly at the Hotel 
 des Voyageurs, where capital accommodation is to be 
 found. They seem to be " a happy band of brothers." 
 At this hotel lived for a long time the clever American 
 artist Robert Wylie. He received his art education in 
 France, and his work is not much known in England, but 
 his vivid transcripts of Breton life are well known in 
 France and, no doubt, in his native country. To the 
 great loss of art (he was at his prime of work) he died 
 about a year ago very suddenly. His kindness to the 
 young artists who visited Pont-Aven was very great. 
 
 The river Aven runs through a picturesque valley 
 to the sea. At the mouth of this river stands the 
 Chateau of Henan, a fine castle built in the second half of 
 the fifteenth century. Rising above the trees that sur- 
 round it, it is a picturesque feature in the landscape. 
 
 From Pont-Aven we went on to Concarneau, famous 
 for its sardine fishing. On the way we stopped near 
 the village of Tregunc to see the famous Rocking-Stone. 
 It stands close to the high road, and is one of the wonders 
 of South Brittany. The following wild legend is told 
 about this huge stone, called " la pierre aux maris 
 trompes."
 
 94 
 
 PICTURES AND LEGENDS 
 
 Kocfcmg>>tcme of 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 ANNIK. 
 
 " MOUSSE, Mousse ! Ah, but she's a cruel little beast ; 
 and yet, to see her, smooth as velvet, and to hear her 
 purr, one would say, what a gentle cat is Mousse ! Ah ! 
 but she is a cat after all."
 
 FROM NORMANDY AND BRITTANY. 95 
 
 The cat sat still, her black velvet-like coat glistening 
 in the sunshine. Evidently she did not understand 
 reproof. At Annik's words she purred more complacently 
 than ever, without even a look at her pretty young 
 mistress. Her green eyes were fixed intently on two 
 large blue -bottle flies hovering about the exquisitely 
 rosy flowers of a great oleander that stood in its green 
 box outside the cottage door. 
 
 Annik shook her head at the cat, and then she 
 crossed one leg over the other, pulled off her shoe and 
 stocking, and began to examine her foot. It was a 
 small well-shaped foot, and looked very pretty, just 
 peeping from beneath her petticoat ; but, spite of the 
 thickness of her leather shoe, the girl felt that a thorn 
 had pierced it, and she gave a little cry of relief as she 
 saw one end of the thorn still projecting from the skin. 
 The wings of her snowy cap spread, as she bent forward, 
 and showed glossy dark hair rolled closely away from 
 her face ; her eyes too were dark, with long black lashes 
 resting on cheeks almost as rosy as the oleander blossom 
 under which she sat. 
 
 Annik was as pretty a little Breton maid as could 
 be seen in Finistere ; and her costume was deliciously 
 quaint. Her greenish blue home-spun apron hid the 
 front of her skirt of darker blue, and reached quite to
 
 96 PICTURES AND LEGENDS 
 
 the bottom of it ; her charming winged white cap made 
 exquisite light and shade on the sweet young face ; the 
 bodice of her gown was black, as was also the inner 
 body, which had long sleeves ; both were trimmed with 
 black velvet, embroidered in lines of flame-coloured silk, 
 and the square opening in front was filled with a fluted 
 chemisette, ending in a frill of home-made lace round 
 the slender throat ; below the chemisette her bodice 
 was laced across with pale blue silk cord. 
 
 Something in the girl's appearance seemed out of 
 keeping with the small one-storied cottage, with its 
 overhanging oaken beams, in front of which she sat, 
 from one of which beams, over the doorway, hung a 
 bunch of mistletoe, signifying that cider was to be had 
 within. Beyond the cottage, the road went uphill, and 
 soon the sunshine, instead of shedding down a full stream 
 of light, like that in which the black cat sat purring, 
 asserted itself only in flecks and chequers of irregular 
 design. For overhead, stretching across the road from 
 the high bank on either side, as if to exchange greetings, 
 were huge spreading chestnut boughs with fans of 
 exquisite green leaves. A little higher up, the bank 
 ended on the same side as the cottage, and a group of 
 chestnuts stood on a wide opening of still rising ground. 
 Here the light was yet more brilliant ; the dull yellow
 
 FROM NORMANDY AND BRITTANY. 97 
 
 of the ground between the tree-trunks seemed paved 
 here and there with tesserae of gold, where corn had 
 been threshed in front of the great stone farm-house 
 that stood back among the trees. Opposite, on the 
 right, was a tall grey calvary, and the road sloping 
 downwards from this led to the church. 
 
 Annik took out the thorn, and just as she began to 
 draw her stocking over her pretty foot, a man appeared 
 at the top of the road coming from beyond the farm- 
 house. There had been no rain for several days, and 
 his tread was not heard at that distance on the dusty 
 ground. He came along with a lowering expression of 
 discontent, swinging the arm, which held his heavy 
 cudgel ; his large, black, low-crowned hat pulled over 
 his eyes. All at once he saw Annik. He stopped, 
 thrust his empty hand into his pocket, and gazed 
 earnestly forward. His wide mouth, open with surprise, 
 showed a range of gleaming wolf-like teeth. He re- 
 pressed the exclamation on his tongue, lest he should 
 disturb the picture below him, and stood still gazing. 
 
 Annik had left off talking to the cat ; she sat 
 leisurely putting on her shoe, crooning meanwhile a 
 wailing cradle ditty, as if the little foot were a baby, 
 and she were lulling it to sleep. 
 
 The man's face meantime had changed strangely. 
 H
 
 98 PICTURES AND LEGENDS 
 
 As he came in sight you would have said that love and 
 joy could have found no power of expression in his 
 features ; now, as he stood gazing, pleasure at least shone 
 out of his eyes, mingled with delighted admiration. 
 
 He had been too much absorbed to heed any sound, 
 but footsteps had been for some minutes toiling up the 
 stony road from the church, and now the tall bent figure 
 of a priest, with his breviary under his arm, and a small 
 bag in one hand, came behind the gazer. The priest, 
 who was no other than the Cur6 of the village, looked 
 intently when he saw a stranger, and then rapidly 
 beyond him, to see what had fixed his attention. The 
 Cure^ was very thin, with small, mild blue eyes, but he 
 looked healthy, and the colour on his cheek deepened 
 with vexation as he followed the strong dark gaze down- 
 hill, and saw on whom it rested. He went on past the 
 strange man, and then turned back and looked in his 
 face only to be seen by a direct front view, for the 
 man's high shirt-collar hid the lower part of his features, 
 and his long dark hair fell over his eyes and cheeks. 
 The eyes were deep-set and unpleasant in expression. 
 They scanned the priest searchingly ; then the man 
 pulled off his hat, and gave an awkward smile. 
 
 " Good morning, father ; you have forgotten Lao 
 Coatfrec, it seems."
 
 FROM NORMANDY AND BRITTANY. 99 
 
 The priest started, and then, while he returned the 
 greeting, looked intently at the hard determined face. 
 It was handsome, perhaps, as regarded colour and 
 features, but there was no beauty of expression : the 
 lower nature reigned supreme. 
 
 " Lao ! is it indeed Lao ?" and then the Cure stood 
 silent. He looked disturbed and hesitating, as if he 
 wished to speak, and yet was withheld by prudence. 
 
 Meantime Lao's eyes had travelled back to Annik. 
 He said abruptly, " Father, who is the young girl beside 
 the cottage ? I have been away so long that the young 
 ones have grown out of remembrance." 
 
 Again the Cur6 looked disturbed. " You are not 
 likely to remember that young woman, Lao ; she is not 
 a Ke>ion girl ; she comes from Auray. Her aunt 
 married the widower Guerik you remember him at the 
 farm here?" He looked back at the stone farm-house. 
 " His second wife and her niece, Annik, came from 
 Auray ; and when the wife died, a year ago, the niece 
 remained with Guerik." 
 
 Lao shrugged his shoulders, but his dark eyes 
 gleamed with curiosity. 
 
 " I hope she has enough to keep her," he said care- 
 lessly. " Guerik, as I remember him, is not a man who 
 would care to be burdened with a child who is not of 
 his blood."
 
 loo PICTURES AND LEGENDS 
 
 The priest was too simple to see Lao's drift. His 
 cheeks flushed a little as he answered 
 
 " Annik lives with farmer Guerik because she is his 
 niece by marriage, and because she is alone in the 
 world. She has no blood relations, but she has a good 
 sum put by for her, and the prettiest little cow in Guerik's 
 stable is Annik's. One has only to look at her and see 
 that she is no beggar : and she is good ; yes, she is very 
 good." 
 
 His voice sank to a faint murmur. As he ended, 
 the good father suddenly remembered the admiration 
 he had remarked in Lao's eyes. He felt he was saying 
 too much, and he wished he had not praised Annik or 
 said a word about her money. 
 
 " And where have you been all these years ?" he 
 said quickly. " We heard that you had gone to sea ; 
 you must have been away eight years or more." 
 
 " About that time, Monsieur. I went to try the 
 fishing, and then I heard of my mother's death," here 
 Lao's eyes drooped under the priest's gaze, " I went 
 away to foreign parts then ; and to-day I have come 
 back here to see my grandmother." 
 
 The Cure crossed himself. 
 
 " I am sorry to say your grandmother is not a good 
 companion for old or young, Lao ; age does not mend
 
 FROM NORMANDY AND BRITTANY. 101 
 
 Ursula. She despises all that you were taught to rever- 
 ence when you were a boy." 
 
 " That is a long time ago, Monsieur." Lao laughed. 
 " I love the poor old woman ; she is all I have in the 
 world to care for ; I am sure there is no harm in her ; 
 but she is more clever than her neighbours, and so they 
 are spiteful ; it is always so." 
 
 The Cure looked stern as well as grave. 
 
 " I judge no man or woman from report, Lao. I 
 know that Ursule does not fear God ; and I warn you 
 against her influence." 
 
 Lao laughed, and then he hitched up the broad 
 leather belt he wore, and stopped in his walk. 
 
 " Good day to you, father. I must go and see my 
 old gossip Guerik." And he turned towards the farm- 
 house. 
 
 The priest went on with trouble on his usually 
 placid face. As he reached the bottom of the slope 
 Annik looked round. 
 
 She rose when she saw the Cure, and at her smiling 
 greeting his face cleared. 
 
 " Good-day, my child. I am going away, but only 
 as far as Concarneau ; so you will know where to find 
 me if I should be needed." 
 
 "Going away!" Annik's eyes opened in wide
 
 102 PICTURES AND LEGENDS 
 
 wonder. She had not lived many years in Kerion ; but 
 she could not remember the day when she had not seen 
 Monsieur le Cure. 
 
 ' Is there any reason why I should stay at home, 
 my child ? If there is, tell me ;" and he smiled. 
 
 " No ; oh, no ! forgive me." Annik blushed with 
 confusion. " The change will be good for Monsieur, 
 but we shall be all glad to see him back." 
 
 " And I glad to return, dear child." He put his 
 hand on her head. " I have said I will stay till Satur- 
 day morning, but I may return on Friday who knows? 
 Go and see Jeanneton sometimes. Farewell." 
 
 The girl knelt down in the dusty road to receive 
 his fatherly blessing. The Cure gave it, and then he 
 passed quickly on his way to Concarneau. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 SILVESTIK. 
 
 " WELL, good-day, old friend ; it was a good chance 
 that brought you back to Kerion ; I will think it over. 
 Leave all to me, and it shall go smoothly, I promise you." 
 The speaker, Mathurin Guerik, came to the arched 
 door of his old stone house, and nodded farewell to Lao.
 
 FROM NORMANDY AND BRITTANY. 
 
 103 
 
 Then he smiled, and rubbed his hard brown hands 
 together in congratulation of his own manoeuvres. 
 Guerik was short and broad, and his long red hair was 
 
 not a becoming frame to his repulsive sullen face. His 
 
 long half-shut grey eyes were twinkling with satisfaction. 
 
 " Nothing could have happened better. The girl 
 
 says 'No ' to every man I propose to her ; and, indeed,
 
 104 PICTURES AND LEGENDS 
 
 there are but few to choose from in Kerion who have 
 money. This one is rich ; I can see it even in his 
 walk " he stood watching Lao Coatfrec out of sight 
 " and there are no relations to make troublesome in- 
 quiries about the interest on Annik's hoard. I know too 
 much about Ursule ; she will not meddle, and I shall ask 
 no questions about Lao. Yes ; Lao shall marry Annik. 
 He wants some ready money, and he likes the girl ; and 
 he will take her right away to the west. She will marry 
 him fast enough ; how can she refuse a fine fellow like 
 that ? and I shall be rid of her, and of Monsieur le Cure's 
 visits. I am tired of being watched over and talked to 
 as if I were a sick woman." 
 
 He stuffed both hands into the pockets of his 
 breeches, which were pear-shaped, and made of un- 
 bleached coarse jean gathered into innumerable tiny 
 plaits ; below them came black cloth leggings, trimmed 
 with faded embroidery and buttoned with small metal 
 buttons down to the ankle. 
 
 "Annik!" he called, in his hoarse voice "Annik, 
 I have something to say." Guerik turned towards the 
 house, but there was no answer. 
 
 The road had been empty since Lao departed, but 
 now, here was Annik coming up from the church ; and 
 down the road which Lao had taken came a tall
 
 FROM NORMANDY AND BRITTANY. 105 
 
 young fellow, walking briskly, whistling as he came. 
 Looking straight before him, a moment ago this bright- 
 haired happy-faced youth had a fearless, honest face 
 which won the beholder ; but as the young girl stepped 
 into the road his fearless look faded into a timid, almost 
 beseeching glance, his well-knit limbs moved less 
 freely, and his head was less saucily erect ; and as Annik 
 saw him, and nodded, and then moved across towards 
 the farm-house, the young man reddened and stopped 
 awkwardly in the middle of the road, as he said "good 
 day." 
 
 "You called me, uncle?" said Annik. 
 
 The farmer had turned, and saw the timid greeting 
 exchanged. He answered gruffly, 
 
 " Yes yes. Jeff has need of help ; go, she waits." 
 
 A little pout closed the girl's lips. She gave a linger- 
 ing look over her shoulder, and then went slowly into 
 the house. As she passed her uncle she said dryly 
 
 "Jeff did not need help when I left her. She is 
 growing lazy." 
 
 Then she held up her pretty head, and walked on 
 with the air of a young queen. 
 
 " I am tired of these airs," the farmer murmured ; 
 " it is not pleasant that a young chit like Annik should 
 be so independent she shall be tamed. Ah, good day, 
 Silvestik ; you have left work early to-day ; why so ?"
 
 io6 PICTURES AND LEGENDS 
 
 " Yes, 1 have left work early, Mathurin Guerik. 
 My cousin, the miller of Nizon, is ill ; and he has sent 
 to say that I am to go and help him, that I am to be 
 as his son, and that when he dies, the mill, and all that 
 he has, is to be mine." 
 
 " Some folk count chickens through the egg-shell, 
 Silvestik. Well, go your way, and prosper better at 
 Nizon than you have prospered at Kerion. Lao Coatfrec, 
 who went away in disgrace, and who you all said had 
 gone to the bad, has come back to-day rich and pros- 
 perous. Go and do likewise." 
 
 Silvestik looked sharply at the farmer. 
 
 " Lao Coatfrec ! has he come back ? Well, I fear 
 his riches are not fairly got ; if, indeed, he is rich. He 
 is a smuggler : every one knows it, and ugly things have 
 happened to him and to his crew." 
 
 Guerik's sullen face grew purple, and he growled a 
 fierce oath between his teeth. 
 
 " Lao is not a milksop, and so he is a mark for evil 
 tongues. Take my advice, young man," he went on 
 harshly, " keep your mouth shut, or you may find stones 
 in your teeth. Lao is my friend." 
 
 Silvestik looked troubled. He had plenty of in- 
 telligence, but he was slow in piecing facts together ; 
 and at this moment his head was so full of Annik,
 
 FROM NORMANDY AND BRITTANY. 107 
 
 that he had no insight into the extent of Guerik's 
 anger. 
 
 " I did not know that," he said simply, " or I should 
 have held my tongue ; for I would not willingly grieve 
 you, Mathurin." He stopped and looked sheepish, then 
 he forced out the words, "If all goes as I wish, some day 
 I hope to call you my uncle." 
 
 Guerik broke into a coarse, derisive laugh. 
 
 " Some folks are bent on seeing through the egg- 
 shell. Go your way, Silvestik. My niece Annik is not 
 for a penniless lad with scarce a beard for the barber. 
 Go, I tell you !" 
 
 Guerik roared out the last words. The young 
 man's eyes flashed, and he made a step forward towards 
 the farmer. But Guerik did not notice either look or 
 movement ; as he spoke he turned quickly into the 
 arched doorway, and pushed the half-door violently, so 
 as to prevent any following. 
 
 Seeing this, Silvestik paused and unclenched his fists. 
 
 " I am as foolish to be provoked by his bluster as 
 he is to show it. He has no power over Annik. If I 
 were richer I would speak to her to-day before I go to 
 Nizon ; as it is, if I were more sure but she never 
 gives me a smile or a word that she does not give to 
 another. If I thought I had a chance, then indeed "
 
 io3 PICTURES AND LEGENDS 
 
 He went slowly down the road, past the cottage in 
 front of which Annik had been sitting. Just within, a 
 withered old woman sate with her distaff under her arm, 
 her black cat striving every now and then to touch the 
 ball of yarn as it twirled beside her. 
 
 " Good morning, Barba," he said ; " is your rheu- 
 matism better ?" 
 
 She shook her head. Her white cap fell so low 
 on her wrinkled brown face that scarcely more than 
 the lipless mouth was visible. 
 
 " No, my lad ; it is so bad that if I had only legs 
 I would go to Mother Ursule, and ask her to give me 
 a charm for it." 
 
 " A charm ! Better ask Monsieur le Cure to pray 
 our Lady to heal you." 
 
 The old woman looked, up and blinked at him out 
 of her almost shut blue eyes. " I have done that over 
 and over again, the pain goes, and then it comes 
 back. Mother Ursule's cures are sure, but then it is 
 so far to seek them. Ah ! what it is to be young ! " 
 
 " Look here, Barba ; to-day I go to Nizon, but 
 to-morrow if I can I come back to Kerion to settle my 
 affairs ; it will not be much out of my way to seek 
 Ursule, and get you a charm against your pain." 
 
 The old woman shook her head.
 
 FROM NORM AND Y AND BRITTANY. ic? 
 
 " She will not give it you. I must seek her myself 
 if the charm is to work. I would not sit here suffering 
 if another could do my errand, for Ursule never fails. 
 She is powerful : she can change the wind ; she can 
 soften the heart of the proudest maiden and make her 
 say yes. See my bees ;" she pointed to a range of 
 straw beehives by the side of the cottage. " Five years 
 ago they would not swarm, but I got a charm from 
 Ursule, and they have always swarmed since. Ah, 
 she is a wonderful woman." 
 
 Here Barba crossed herself, either for protection 
 against the witch, or as an act of faith.
 
 1 10 PICTURES AND LEGENDS 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 SILVESTIK RESOLVES TO CONSULT THE WITCH. 
 
 WHEN Silvestik reached the mill of Nizon he found 
 that his cousin's health had improved. 
 
 " I am better ; I shall not die directly," the sick 
 man said ; " but that makes no difference to you, 
 Silvestik. I shall never walk again, my legs are use- 
 less ; and you are as much master of the mill as if I 
 "lay in the churchyard ; but while I live I must keep 
 the name, and I must have a corner of the old house 
 to live in." 
 
 Tears rolled down Silvestik's face. 
 
 His cousin had always been good to him, but till 
 lately two well-grown sons had barred any hope of 
 succession to the mill. Lately, one of these had been 
 lost at sea, and the other had died of fever a double 
 grief which had caused the paralysis from which the 
 sick man could not rally. 
 
 His young cousin's sympathy cheered the miller, 
 and he agreed to spare Silvestik for a few days, so 
 that he might arrange his affairs at Kerion before he 
 came to settle down for life at Nizon. 
 
 That night, when the youth had stowed away his
 
 FROM NORM AND Y AND BRITTANY. \ 1 1 
 
 long legs into one of the cupboard-like bedsteads in 
 the chief room of the mill, he could not sleep. He 
 lay thinking of all that had taken place that day of 
 Annik, of the farmer's repulse, of the old witch Ursule. 
 
 The short-drawn wheezing breath told that the 
 sick man was at last asleep, and for some time past, 
 the grunts and snores of the two servants the miller's 
 man and his maid had been sounding through the 
 great dark room. All at once it seemed to Silvestik 
 that he heard the clack of the mill and the plash, plash 
 of falling water, and these sounds joined in a dull 
 chant "Go to Ursule Ursule Ursule," till the 
 words came so close they deafened him they hurt 
 his ears, and starting awake, he found Jean Marie, his 
 cousin's man, bellowing to him that it was time to rise. 
 
 The broad daylight, and the interest he felt in 
 learning his new business, kept Silvestik from thinking 
 of other things, and he laughed and joked all through 
 the morning with the miller's man. When he came 
 in at last from work into the room where his cousin 
 lay, the sick man smiled at him feebly. 
 
 " The sight of you does me more good than the 
 doctor," he said. " Who knows, when you are here 
 every day, and I see your fresh face and hear you 
 laugh, and feel, too, that good work is doing who
 
 112 PICTURES AND LEGENDS 
 
 knows but I may mend and strengthen too ; but that 
 will make no change to you, my lad ; the mill is yours, 
 and the papers will be ready for you to sign when you 
 come back." 
 
 He kept on putting off the youth's departure till 
 the light began to fade ; then, as Silvestik bent over 
 the tent bed on which he lay, he laughed, " Bring a 
 wife in thy pocket, young one ; there is enough and 
 to spare for you both, and she will make the place as 
 bright for you as you have made it for me. Do what 
 -I say, Silvestik." 
 
 " No such luck, cousin." Silvestik turned away 
 hurriedly to hide his red face, and went out through 
 the low doorway. 
 
 It is a wild piece of up-and-down road between 
 Nizon and Kcrion to travel on a dark night ; more- 
 over, it is bordered on one side by a vast stretch of 
 waste land. On this, sometimes standing up in naked 
 ruggcdness, sometimes fallen and overgrown with 
 brown gorse and tufts of heather, are huge mis-shapen 
 blocks of granite. 
 
 A hoarse wind had risen after sunset, and had 
 broken up the dull leaden expanse, so gloomy in the 
 daylight, into yet darker but less solid masses, black 
 filmy clouds that drove hurriedly across the sky, as if
 
 FROM NORM AND Y AND BRITTANY. 1 1 3 
 
 they actually feared the hoarse voice of the ever-rising 
 wind. It was not late, but darkness had come with a 
 suddenness unknown in England. All at once the 
 howling of the wind lulled, and then a shrieking wail 
 burst over the waste. 
 
 Silvestik stood still and crossed himself, and then 
 looked fearfully about. Just in front of him an opening 
 came in the road, and a narrow way went steeply down 
 between two high banks. All around him were the 
 pagan stones, some of which, so tradition said, sheltered 
 dwarfs and korrigans, while some of the taller ones had 
 been known to walk and to crush unwary travellers who 
 met them on their way. 
 
 " It was only the wind," he thought, as he stood at 
 the opening of the steep narrow path. 
 
 All at once he remembered that it was down such 
 a steep uncanny bit of road as this, only nearer home, 
 that Ursule lived ; and the words of old rheumatic Barba, 
 and his dream of last night, came back came back so 
 vividly, that it seemed as if a voice from among those 
 dark weird stones were whispering in his ear, " Go to 
 Ursule." Should he go ? Could she teach him how 
 to win Annik ? 
 
 He went musing along the high road, difficult to keep 
 to now that waste land spread along each side of the
 
 114 PICTURES AND LEGENDS 
 
 way. Once he went plunging into the midst of this waste 
 among the furze and stones ; and then a cross, placed 
 at the angle of a by-road, caught his eye, and recalled 
 him from his wandering. He took off his hat rever- 
 ently, and the misty dreams that had been confusing 
 him dispersed for a while. 
 
 " Ursule is a witch," he said. " No, I will not seek 
 her, I will speak for myself." But as he drew nearer 
 and nearer to Ke>ion, his courage failed ; Annik had 
 never said or done anything in the way of personal en- 
 couragement. He could not approach her in regular 
 fashion, through the crooked tailor of the village whose 
 business lay more in the making of marriages than in 
 the making of clothes for this tailor was a known 
 friend of Guerik's, and would certainly speak to the 
 uncle before speaking to the niece, and thus Silvestik's 
 suit would remain untold. 
 
 "If I had only a mother!" the poor fellow sighed. 
 He had been an orphan ever since he could remember ; 
 owing all his teaching to Father Pierre ; and helped on 
 first by one cousin, then by another, but knowing no 
 home except the houses of the farmers with whom he 
 had taken service 
 
 Here was Kerion at last. He passed the low 
 cottage where Annik had talked to the cat. and where
 
 FROM NORM AND Y AND BRITTANY. 1 1 5 
 
 old Barba had given her counsel, and speeding swiftly 
 up the hill with long, strong strides, he came in sight 
 of the farm-house, a dull red glow through the window 
 beside the door making it visible at some distance. 
 Silvestik stood still and gazed as a lover does gaze on 
 the nest that holds his beloved. Then his eyes went to 
 the upper story. 
 
 " Annik is still below," he thought ; " there is no light 
 up-stairs." 
 
 Between him and the house, obscuring the red light 
 in the window, came two dark figures, and passed in 
 under the low stone arch of the doorway. The door 
 was shut-to, and in a minute the dull red brightened, 
 and the window was ablaze with light. A curse rose to 
 Silvestik's lips ; all his pure simple worship of Annik 
 was dimmed by a cloud of furious jealousy. He had 
 seen Guerik taking Lao Coatfrec to his hearth-stone to 
 woo Annik. 
 
 " I was a fool not to guess it yesterday. I might 
 have spoken then, and so have had her answer before 
 Lao had time to court her with his false words. He is 
 a thief, and therefore he must be a liar curse him !" 
 
 He plunged his hands into his hair ; he stood gazing 
 wildly at the house, while one mad thought and then 
 ar other wrecked all self-control. Then, with a sudden
 
 n6 PICTURES AND LEGENDS 
 
 impulse, he went fast up the hill, on along the road for 
 some distance, till he paused at a cross-road just such 
 a narrow sunken turning, between two lofty banks, as 
 that where he had heard the wind shriek over the stone- 
 strewn waste near Nizon. 
 
 " I will see Ursule, and ask her help," he said ; 
 " right ways are useless against knaves and plotters 
 they must be met in their own way : who can say how 
 those two may deceive Annik ? I must take any means 
 to win her." 
 
 But even then his conscience misgave him, and to 
 quiet its pricks he plunged recklessly down the hollow 
 way. 
 
 Down, down, it led him, through wet and mire and 
 bramble-tangled paths on to a vast waste. Here it was 
 not so dark as in the narrow way, and the monotonous 
 distant moaning told that the sea was not far off. There 
 was light enough to show pools of water, and in the 
 midst of these was a cluster of huge stones, like a long 
 low hut. At sight of this Silvestik stopped, and his 
 heart beat violently. He tried mechanically to cross 
 himself, but his fingers felt stiff and glued together. 
 A cold dew spread over his forehead, and it seemed to 
 him that the hairs lifted themselves and stood upright 
 on his head. He had never visited this gloomy waste
 
 FROM NORMANDY AND BRITTANY. 117 
 
 since he was a child ; but he had been told that the hag 
 Ursule, shunned and feared by all, lived in a ruined 
 Dolmen at the end of the narrow road he had descended. 
 This, then, must be her abode. 
 
 Silvestik was brave : he had rescued three men from 
 drowning at the risk of his own life ; he was an ex- 
 cellent wrestler, and never shrank from any amount of 
 bodily fatigue or pain ; but he shook with actual fear 
 at the thought of intruding on Mother Ursule. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 WHAT THE WITCH SAID. 
 
 WHILE Silvestik stood undecided and unnerved some- 
 thing touched him, and then, rubbing itself against his 
 legs, the creature purred. The familiar sound revived 
 him, and he felt himself again, when a lantern came out 
 of the group of stones, and a deep voice said. 
 " Tartare ! Tartare ! come home ; it is time." 
 The cat left off rubbing against Silvestik, and moved 
 towards the lantern : the youth followed the animal, 
 striving to keep down fear. 
 
 " Who art thou ?" He had not nearly reached the 
 light when this question was sternly asked.
 
 Ii8 PICTURES AND LEGENDS 
 
 " I am Silvestik Kergroes," he said quickly ; " I 
 come to consult you, Mother Ursule." 
 
 " Come in, my son, come in " the voice had a 
 softened, almost a fawning sound in it " let us see how 
 a poor old woman can help the rich miller of Nizon." 
 
 Siivestik started. It was only the day before yester- 
 day that he had learned his cousin's kind intentions ; 
 how could the news have already reached Ursule, who 
 rarely went into Kerion ? 
 
 " I rich ! No, no, mother," he laughed, as he 
 followed her, rejoiced to find that she was, after all, an 
 ordinary old woman ; " I never expect to be rich." 
 
 He followed her through an opening in the dolmen ; 
 then he paused and looked round. 
 
 Ursule was holding up the lantern, and he saw that 
 he was in a sort of stone vault, surrounded by upright 
 blocks of granite. In the midst was a huge stone table, 
 grooved in the centre, and in one corner, between two 
 lower stones, was a dull smouldering fire. As he looked 
 round to the door by which he had entered, he started 
 violently. In the darkness above the entrance were two 
 yellow eyes glaring at him. 
 
 "Come down, Tartare!" Ursule said querulously. 
 " Now, Miller, shall I tell thee what thou hast come to 
 seek ?"
 
 FROM NORMANDY AND BRITTANY. 119 
 
 Silvestik stared at her in wonder ; while the cat 
 sprang down from its post of observation, and nestled 
 on Ursule's shoulder. 
 
 She was very witch-like as she stood, the yellow 
 light from the lantern falling on her skinny cheeks and 
 narrow spiteful eyes. Her face was darker than Nature 
 had mide it, from an incrustation of dirt, and tangled 
 grizzled hair fell over it from beneath an old rusty 
 black hood. 
 
 " I am not yet the miller of Nizon, mother ; my 
 cousin is better and may recover who knows ?' 
 
 She shook her fingers in his face, thereby displaying 
 how long-nailed and crooked they were. Silvestik drew 
 back with a start. He felt as if those brown claws 
 could hook out his eyes as easily as the yellow-eyed 
 cat on Ursule's shoulder could tear out the heart of a 
 bird. 
 
 " ' Who knows,' " she laughed. " You are come, then, 
 to teach, and not to question, young man ?" 
 
 " I am come for advice, mother ; but I have no 
 money to return for it." He watched her face eagerly, 
 but in the dim light he saw no change from the keen 
 gaze she had kept on him since he entered her den. 
 Then he unbuckled his broad buff leather belt, and threw 
 it on the table between them, the metal clasp ringing
 
 120 PICTURES AND LEGENDS 
 
 on the stone as it fell. " I can offer this," he said 
 timidly. 
 
 Ursule laughed. 
 
 "What else?" She fingered the belt, pushing out 
 her lower lip contemptuously when she saw how plain 
 the clasp was. 
 
 Silvestik looked puzzled. He took off his hat and 
 rubbed his forehead with his orange cotton handkerchief. 
 " I forgot this," he said, and he began to undo the metal 
 buckle that fastened a broad black velvet round the 
 t:rown of his hat. 
 
 " Keep your rubbish, boy, and be speedy," Ursule 
 said fiercely. She flung the belt into one of the dark 
 corners of the den. " Say out at once what you 
 want." 
 
 Silvestik's faith in the witch's power was shaken by 
 her contempt of his poverty. How foolish he had been 
 to come empty-handed ! and yet, unless he borrowed 
 money of his cousin, he did not know how he could get 
 any sum sufficient to offer to the old witch. 
 
 " Come, be quick, loiterer ! say what you want," 
 she said hoarsely. She saw that he hesitated, and she 
 was unwilling to lose a fresh dupe. 
 
 " I want " he stammered " that is, how can a 
 young man who is poor approach a "
 
 FROM NORMANDY AND BRITTANY. 121 
 
 He stopped. His downcast eyes and the flush on 
 his honest face told his secret. 
 
 " Silvestik Kergroes asks "- Ursule spoke mock- 
 ingly to the cat on her shoulder " how he is to win a 
 rich Pennherez, 1 and what steps he is to take to get her 
 for his wife ?" 
 
 Silvestik's eyes opened widely, and so did his mouth ; 
 his surprise was unbounded. 
 
 ' Well, mother," he said simply, " if I had not believed 
 in you before, I believe in you now ; you know wishes 
 before they are spoken." 
 
 " He is a young fool, Tartare !" She had turned 
 her face round to the cat, showing a hideous wrinkled 
 throat in the action. " He forgets, Tartare, that before 
 a man hints his love he must make sure that a girl will 
 listen with patience, at least." 
 
 " Yes, yes, mother, I know she would listen with 
 patience," he said eagerly. " Annik is sweet and gentle, 
 but I want to know what her answer will be. Only a 
 hope that she loves could encourage me to ask her, and 
 as she is rich and I am poor"- 
 
 " Rich ! ta, ta ! he calls a few hundred francs riches, 
 Tartare. Annik, indeed ! it is well Silvestik sought our 
 advice. Annik " she stood thinking, while the cat 
 nestled its head against her face and purred loudly. 
 1 Pennherez is Breton for heiress.
 
 122 PICTURES AND LEGENDS 
 
 " Boy ! she turned suddenly to Silvestik " you have 
 no chance with Annik ; give her up, and choose some 
 one who is less sure of lovers." 
 
 " I will not give her up," Silvestik said stoutly ; " if 
 you cannot help me, I will find out by myself whether 
 she will be my wife." 
 
 He turned to go, for he was provoked by Ursule's 
 mockery. 
 
 She bent forward and caught at his sleeve : her eyes 
 gleamed with anger. 
 
 " Listen, fool ! since you will not take a friendly 
 warning ; listen, and be sure you do as I tell you. You 
 shall try the spell. I know Annik ; and if you will 
 succeed with her, you must not give a word or a look 
 of love till you have tried the spell not even if you see 
 others wooing her.' 
 
 "The spell!" Thoughts of Father Pierre, of the 
 warnings he had often spoken against belief in the pagan 
 traditions that haunt the lands and stones of the country, 
 came back, and made Silvestik hesitate. 
 
 Ursule read his face easily. 
 
 " Go your ways, fool, and never intrude here again ! 
 I tell you the man who approaches Annik without 
 having first tried whether he can master her love, 
 loses her for ever. Only by the spell can he learn
 
 FROM NORMANDY AND BRITTANY. 123 
 
 his fate, and if the spell says Yes, it binds her also to 
 be his." 
 
 "Well," he said crossly, "what is the spell?" 
 
 " Before I tell you, you must swear to do as I bid 
 you swear on the head of Tartare," 
 
 And she kept her eyes fixed, with a strange con- 
 straining power, on Silvestik. 
 
 As if the cat understood her mistress's words, it 
 leaped down on to the stone, and sat there, upright and 
 with closed eyes, like a black idol. 
 
 Ursule stretched out her lean fingers for Silvestik's 
 hand, and placed it on the cat's head. " Say my words," 
 she whispered. She paused and fixed her eyes on the 
 youth, who repeated her words like a parrot. 
 
 " I, Silvestik Kergroes," she said, " swear by the 
 soul of my mother, and by my own salvation " 
 
 At the word " salvation " Silvestik hesitated, but the 
 witch grasped his arm warningly, and he went on 
 
 " That I will, on the night of Saturday, go alone, 
 without telling my purpose to a living soul, to the 
 Rocking-Stone of Tregunc. There I will strive three 
 times to move the stone by gentle pushes of my body 
 and hands. If it remains firm, I may ask Annik with 
 sure hope ; but if it rocks ever so little, her love is not 
 fcr me : it has been given to more than one before me."
 
 124 PICTURES AND LEGENDS 
 
 As Silvestik repeated the last words, the cat opened 
 its great yellow eyes, and leaped back to its resting-place 
 on Ursule's shoulder. 
 
 Ursule took something from a pocket in her apron, 
 and strewed it on the stone table ; then she struck 
 sparks over it with flint and steel. A sudden light 
 flared out and lit up the den with a lurid glare, in which 
 the old woman looked like an animated corpse. 
 
 She caught hold of Silvestik's hand, and held it 
 over the flame. 
 
 " Swear to do this," she said hoarsely. 
 
 " I have sworn already." Silvestik felt sullen and 
 ashamed ; he shivered too, for he believed in the witch, 
 spite of himself. 
 
 " But, mother, Pierre Mao did all this," he said, " and 
 a week after his corpse was washed up by the waves on 
 the rocks beyond the Stone of Tregunc." 
 
 Ursule did not answer for some moments. 
 
 " Silvestik," she said, as the flames died out, and 
 left them in semi-darkness, " that poor fool, Pierre, dis- 
 obeyed my commands, and so he perished ; if you speak 
 to Annik in the interval, the spell is broken, and the 
 stone will not speak truly, nor can I say what may befall 
 you ; but keep your tongue quiet, and all will be well ; 
 go on Saturday, when the light has faded out of the sky
 
 FROM NORMANDY AND BRITTANY. 125 
 
 go alone, remember : if the stone does not rock, it 
 will hold the maiden's heart fast to yours for ever." 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 LAO'S WOOING. 
 
 " I WISH the good father would come back," thought 
 Annik. " No one else can tell me what to do." 
 
 She was sitting at the foot of the tall gray calvary, 
 beside the church, not far from the farm-house ; but the 
 large spreading chestnut boughs in front of this 
 screened her effectually. She hid her face in her hands, 
 though there was no one by to see the warm blood rush 
 up to her face. 
 
 She was struggling with a keen dislike to leave 
 Kerion. 
 
 This morning, Mathurin had spoken sternly to her. 
 He said he was tired of having her at the farm ; he 
 meant to arrange a marriage for her without delay. 
 
 " I do not wish to marry," the girl said angrily : and 
 then she blushed at her words, and came out to sit 
 under the calvary. 
 
 Since the Cure's departure, Lao Coatfrec had come 
 every day to the farm-house, and Annik wondered 
 whether he was the proposed suitor.
 
 126 PICTURES AND LEGENDS 
 
 11 No one shall choose my husband," she said saucily. 
 
 Old Barba had often warned Annik that her money 
 was not safe with Mathurin, but when the girl had 
 consulted her only friend, the Cure, he bid her be 
 patient * 
 
 " You cannot go out into the world alone, my child, 
 and you do not wish to enter a convent ; you have no 
 relatives, and a home you must have ; be patient, then, 
 and trust in God." 
 
 " I wonder what Monsieur le Curd will say now ? I 
 cannot stay here, and yet it would be easier for a poor 
 girl to find a home than for me." 
 
 Annik sat now with hands disconsolately clasped 
 in her lap. 
 
 All at once a shadow came between her and the 
 light : she looked up and saw Lao Coatfrec. 
 
 "Good morning, pretty Annik," he said ; and then, 
 without waiting for her answer, he seated himself also on 
 the steps of the calvary. 
 
 Annik reddened this time with vexation. If Sil- 
 vestik or any other Kerion lads spoke to her, they 
 addressed her as Mademoiselle. She thought Lao's 
 manner impertinent 
 
 She looked rather haughty, but the beseeching 
 admiration in his eyes soothed her. "After all," she
 
 FROM NORMANDY AND BRITTANY. 127 
 
 thought, "the poor fellow can't help liking me. I need 
 not be cross." 
 
 " Did you always live at Auray before you came to 
 K6rion ?" he asked. 
 
 " Yes," Annik sighed, " my mother and my aunt 
 and I all lived beside the Loch at Auray. When my 
 mother died, my aunt married Mathurin Gue"rik, and 
 we came to Kerion." 
 
 "You must find this a poor dull place after Auray," 
 said Lao; "and a pretty maid like you would take 
 pleasure in a more lively town even than Auray, I fancy. 
 What say you to Brest ?" 
 
 Annik looked up quickly ; she was so preoccupied 
 with her own plans for leaving Kerion, that she failed to 
 understand Lao's drift. 
 
 " Brest is so far off, and it always seems to me that 
 people must lose their way in a great city." 
 
 Lao laughed gaily. 
 
 " My dear little country mouse," he said, " Brest 
 could be put in a corner of Paris, or even of Nantes ; 
 but, small as it is, it is full of life ; it is the sailor's 
 home, and you need never lose your way when you have 
 a strong arm ready to protect you." 
 
 He looked meaningly into her eyes, and drew close 
 beside her. But the familiarity of his tone had startled
 
 128 PICTURES AND LEGENDS 
 
 Annik, and when she met his eyes anger rose quickly in 
 her own. 
 
 She looked away, and saw some one coming up 
 from the fountain beyond the church. It was Silvestik, 
 bearing a large water pitcher ; behind him hobbled a 
 bent old man, for whom he was carrying it. 
 
 Annik nodded to both of them. 
 
 "Good day, Jean Marie; good-day, Silvestik," she 
 said ; "what news of your cousin ?" 
 
 She felt sure that this advance on her part would 
 
 .cause the youth to set down his pitcher and enter into 
 
 talk, thus releasing her from her unwelcome tete-h-tete ; 
 
 but, to her surprise, Silvestik only bent his head very 
 
 slightly, and passed on, leaving her alone with Lao. 
 
 She could hardly keep from crying. Ever since it 
 had been said that Silvestik would soon leave Kerion, 
 Annik had felt troubled and restless. He was her 
 favourite among the youths of the village ; he was so 
 respectful, yet so anxious to please her ; he was good- 
 looking, and, above all, he was liked by the good Cure. 
 But she was very angry with him now ; he had looked 
 so sheepish, and it was clownish and ill-mannered to 
 pass on without a word. 
 
 The colour rose in her cheeks, and she pouted to 
 herself, " I have been very silly to waste a thought on
 
 FROM NORMANDY AND BRITTANY. 129 
 
 Silvestik, he is a foolish fellow." She turned to Lao 
 with a smile. 
 
 "I think," she spoke as if no interruption had 
 come to their talk, though she was pinching the tips of 
 her ringers to keep down vexation " I should like to 
 see a great city just for once. I want to see great 
 churches and fine shops ; but to live in a city, oh, no ! 
 I should feel like a bird in a cage." 
 
 " No one could ever cage you," he said softly ; " you 
 have a spirit, I can see that, and you will always be a 
 free bird ; you will always be obeyed." 
 
 The flattery of his tone was soothing, but his bold 
 admiring gaze made her eyes droop. 
 
 "Women have to obey," said Annik, laughing, and 
 she rose up, thinking she had sat there long enough 
 with Lao. 
 
 "Yes, yes, my sweet one ; but you would not care to 
 obey a mate like yon poor frightened fool." He pointed 
 after Silvestik. "My faith, a maid will have to ask 
 that lad to wed ; he is too much a coward to go a- 
 wooing." 
 
 He burst into a loud laugh. Annik reddened and 
 felt guilty ; she had known Silvestik much longer than 
 she had known this new acquaintance ; why should she 
 join in ridiculing her old friend ? And yet she felt sore 
 
 K
 
 130 PICTURES AND LEGENDS 
 
 and angry with Silvestik for his avoidance, and it was 
 soothing to feel that Lao liked to talk to her. 
 
 " Well, I must go home. Jeff will be wanting me. 
 Good day, Monsieur Coatfrec ; perhaps some day I may 
 go to Brest." 
 
 She nodded gaily. 
 
 She looked very charming as she ran away under 
 the spreading chestnut trees. Lao watched her till she 
 disappeared through the round-headed doorway of the 
 farm-house, and then he swore aloud 
 
 " I will have that little girl : she pleases me. But I 
 have learned something sitting here this morning, and 
 watching her tell-tale cheeks. Guerik is a fool ; he does 
 not see that she can be humoured into anything through 
 her vanity ; but she won't stand driving. She has a 
 temper ; what a rage she got in when that dolt Kergroes 
 passed her by without speaking. I thought the lout cared 
 for her ; I see I was mistaken. Well, I must go and report 
 progress to my grandam ; I have not seen her lately." 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 WHAT HAPPENED TO SILVESTIK. 
 
 THE stormy night had finally brought a heavy rain-fall, 
 and by Saturday the road leading to Concarneau was a
 
 FROM NORM A ND Y A ND BRITTA NY. 131 
 
 succession of muddy pools. Kerion lay on the waste, 
 some way from the high-road itself; yet, even when 
 this was reached, the deep cart-ruts filled with water 
 looked like continuous miniature canals, and, as evening 
 fell, walking in the obscure light was both difficult and 
 dangerous to the ankles of the wayfarer. 
 
 On each side was a dreary moor, covered with heather, 
 so that there was no obstacle to hinder the light and 
 increase the fast-spreading gloom. 
 
 Silvestik had left Kerion earlier than he intended, 
 but he hurried along the rough road, reckless of its perils 
 to unwary walkers. He felt despair hanging like lead 
 at his heart. That morning he had again seen Lao 
 talking to Annik, and he thought that the girl looked 
 lovingly at her companion. For a moment Silvestik felt 
 that he must interfere ; that he must tell her how un- 
 worthy Lao was of her regard ; but he remembered the 
 witch's warning ; indeed, Annik gave him no chance of 
 speaking ; at his approach she turned away. 
 
 Now as he stumbled on along the rugged miry road, 
 he asked himself if he was not a fool to go on acting 
 blindly by the advice of Ursule. Only yesterday he had 
 learned the connection between the witch and Lao 
 Coatfrec. 
 
 "And yet," he thought, "that could not influence
 
 132 PICTURES AND LEGENDS 
 
 Ursula's advice. Lao does not want Annik ; he is too 
 bold and free-living to care to be cumbered with a wife ; 
 he is only amusing himself with her." 
 
 Ah, if he had only awaited the Curb's return, instead 
 of consulting Ursule, Father Pierre would have told 
 Annik the true character of the man, who was only 
 flattering her, and trying to destroy her peace ; but 
 with the remembrance of the Cure came also a vivid 
 remembrance of warnings he had uttered against pagan 
 superstitions, and specially against the spells used by 
 Ursule. 
 
 Silvestik stopped and hung his head with shame. 
 Was he not bound on a godless errand ? Should he turn 
 back ? 
 
 He set his teeth hard. 
 
 " No, I cannot lose her. . I will try the spell. If the 
 stone remains firm, Annik is mine ; and till Lao came 
 there was a look in her eyes when she talked with me, 
 which at least was liking." 
 
 He went on still faster, and just as the light grew 
 very dim he came in sight of the enormous block of 
 granite which goes by the name of the Rocking-Stone 
 of Tregunc. 
 
 Silvestik stepped off the road, and went up to the 
 stone. There was still light enough to show that the
 
 FROM NORMANDY AND BRITTANY, 133 
 
 huge mass rested solely on a projecting angle placed on 
 another block deeply sunk in the earth. 
 
 Silvestik looked at the Rocking-Stone, and then he 
 tried to remember the witch's words. He felt a strone 
 
 o 
 
 reluctance to touch the stone, which in the gloom looked 
 like a dark formless monster ; but at the thought of 
 Annik his resolution came back. Placing his hands 
 about midway on the stone, he tried to move it. He 
 might as well have tried to uproot a Menhir. He paused 
 in his effort, and then tried again, but this time, though 
 he set his shoulder to help his hands, the massive block 
 of stone kept firm. 
 
 His hopes rose wildly. " She is mine ; she is good 
 and true, my sweet Annik ; I was a fool to doubt her : 
 to-morrow I will hear from her own lips that she loves me." 
 
 He did not feel inclined to make the third trial, when 
 suddenly he heard the purring of a cat. He started, and 
 looked round. The purring came from across the road, 
 and as he looked his hair seemed to lift itself on his 
 forehead. He saw two yellow balls of flame, which he 
 guessed were Tartare's eyes. 
 
 He was being watched, then ; who could tell by what 
 evil beings ? and if he failed in obedience he might be 
 torn to pieces. 
 
 " And I am in their power, for I have sought their
 
 134 PICTURES AND LEGENDS 
 
 help." He turned angrily to the stone. This time he 
 only pushed it slightly, and to his dismay he felt it yield 
 under his fingers, and, as they still touched it, it con- 
 tinued to rock for some seconds. 
 
 Silvestik gave a wild cry of despair, and rushed on 
 across the road, heedless how he went, in the direction 
 of Tartare's eyes. He felt a stunning blow, and then he 
 fell senseless beside a huge mass of granite. 
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 WHAT ANNIK HEARD IN HER BEDROOM. 
 
 ANNIK had been unhappy all day. She had slighted 
 Silvestik, and she had allowed Lao to speak to her too 
 freely, and this evening he had come in to see Guerik, 
 and had again spoken familiarly to her, as if there were 
 an understanding between them. And when she looked 
 scornful and angry, the farmer patted Lao's shoulder 
 and encouraged him to go on. 
 
 " It is the way with women, friend Coatfrec," he said, 
 winking at him ; " they always say No when they mean 
 Yes." 
 
 At this Annik flamed into indignant words, and 
 running up the staircase ladder to her little room, she
 
 PROM NORMANDY AND BRITTANY. 135 
 
 drew the bolt across the door, resolved not to go down 
 till Lao had taken his departure. 
 
 She sat half-an-hour in the darkness thinking of 
 Silvestik, and puzzling over his strange behaviour. 
 From below came the sound of men's voices, broken by 
 the flapping of the chestnut leaves against her window. 
 She began to feel tired of waiting. Lao was still talking 
 to her uncle. She had no candle, and through the wide 
 chinks in the rough flooring of her room the red fire-light 
 peeped in lines here and there. 
 
 " I am tired," Annik thought, " I shall not go down 
 again to-night," and she began to prepare for bed. 
 
 The large silver-headed pin which fastened her 
 bodice slipped from her fingers and fell on the floor, and 
 she stooped hurriedly, lest it should roll through one of 
 the crevices. She felt for it in the darkness, and as she 
 found it, a flush of joy glowed on her cheeks. Silvestik 
 had given it her as a fairing last year when she had 
 danced with him at the Pardon of Pont-Aven. But the 
 glow faded quickly into a trembling chill of fear, and 
 instead of rising from her knees, Annik lay down on the 
 boards, placing her ear on one of the larger crevices 
 marked by the line of red light that glowed up from the 
 room beneath. She had heard her name spoken by Lao, 
 coupled with the word " wife."
 
 136 PICTURES AND LEGENDS 
 
 " Trust me," Guerik said in answer, " Annik shall be 
 your wife in a week." 
 
 " Why not sooner ? I can ill spare a week ; my 
 mates will be getting unruly, and I should have liked a 
 day or so with the little one in Brest before I go off again. 
 Why cannot I wed Annik on Monday ?" 
 
 GueVik laughed. " You are a fine fellow to lecture 
 me about dealing gently by the girl, and then to want 
 to marry her out of hand without any approaches." 
 
 " Leave me alone, my friend ; I know the sex." Lao's 
 laugh made the girl shiver as she lay listening. " I told 
 you that three days ago. Meantime Annik and I have 
 not kept apart ; and " the speaker paused, as if he 
 looked round to secure himself against a listener ; he 
 went on in a lower voice " I have learned something 
 else. Mark you, this is between ourselves that young 
 fool Kergroes, with all his sheepishness, is mad with love 
 for Annik. He has sold his soul to my grandmother 
 for a spell to charm the girl's love." 
 
 "And are you fool enough to believe such old 
 women's tales, Lao ? I should have thought even 
 Silvestik had more sense. What may this spell be ?" 
 
 Trembling in every limb, Annik lay straining her 
 ear to catch the answer. 
 
 *' Ursule has sent him to-night to the Rocking-Stone.
 
 FROM NORMANDY AND BRITTANY. 137 
 
 She tells me the spell will fail, but that its power will 
 drive Silvestik distracted, and that probably he will rush 
 on to the sea, and be carried off by the waves, as that poor 
 fool Pierre was carried some years ago, for Ursule has 
 fixed the time for trying the spell at the turn of the tide. 
 This must not come to Annik's ears. A woman, however 
 pretty, is such a fool, that if she hears of a man running a 
 risk for love of her, she loves him at once, and, who can 
 say, perhaps gives herself up to his memory. Silvestik 
 will not be missed for a week or so ; folks will think he 
 is at Nizon. It is a good plan aha ! my grandmother 
 is a clever woman." 
 
 Annik lay as if spell-bound ; her senses seemed to 
 be going ; but just then a bough struck the window, and 
 she roused. 
 
 "There is yet another question." Annik's heart 
 throbbed so painfully that she could scarcely bear to 
 listen, and yet she must hear all she feared to lose a 
 syllable of her uncle's answer. " Suppose Silvestik comes 
 back safe and sound ?" There was a sneer in Guerik's 
 voice. 
 
 Lao swore a frightful oath, and the girl heard him 
 rise violently from his seat and stamp on the clay floor. 
 
 " He will not ; he is too great a fool. Ursule swore 
 t-o him that if the spell failed, he had no chance with
 
 138 PICTURES AND LEGENDS 
 
 Annik, and weak lads such as he is have no courage to 
 persevere. He will never come back to Kerion." 
 
 " Do not you be too sure of that, Lao Coatfrec ; while 
 there is life there is hope. For an hour or so the lad 
 may give way to despair, but after that he will say to 
 himself that he cannot make matters worse by speaking 
 to Annik, and he may make them better; and, to tell 
 you the truth, I fancy the foolish girl likes him. Yes, 
 yes, if the tide does not carry him off, my friend, he will 
 come back and try his chance." 
 
 " Then " Lao spoke coolly, but in a determined 
 voice "he must not come back to Kerion." 
 
 There was silence after this. Presently Guerik spoke 
 and Lao answered, but in such low voices, that Annik 
 could not distinguish words. It seemed to her, from the 
 dull continued murmur, that the two men were carrying 
 on the talk in whispers. 
 
 Annik rose up softly from the floor. She felt 
 strangely calm and alert. One thought ruled her to 
 leave the house as quickly and silently as she could, and 
 to warn Silvestik of coming danger. 
 
 She dared not go down-stairs ; she could not open 
 the heavy house door, which she had heard her uncle 
 close, without risk of noise ; she dared not even undraw 
 the bolt of her room. But she saw her way of escape 
 clearly, and at once set to work to reach it.
 
 FROM NORMANDY AND BRITTANY. 139 
 
 Her room was- but half the size of that below, half 
 being boarded off and used as a receptacle for fodder. 
 There was a square opening in this boarded parti- 
 tion, with a bit of canvas nailed across to screen off the 
 draught which came through a window opening in the 
 hay-loft. 
 
 Annik cautiously dressed herself, and then, with a 
 pair of scissors, she cut open the canvas screen that 
 divided her from the hay-loft. Once more she listened, 
 but the dull murmur of voices had not ceased. 
 
 There was more light from the outer opening in the 
 loft than had come through Annik's window, though a 
 chestnut tree stood close to the house on this side also, 
 but the nearest branch had been scathed by lightning, 
 and was now leafless. 
 
 With her shoes in her hand, Annik got through the 
 opening from her room into the loft. Slowly and softly, 
 step by step, feeling her way as she went on, she groped 
 across the hay and bean stalks till she reached the outer 
 opening. 
 
 She leant forward and stretched out her hand till it 
 touched the long scathed branch that reached across the 
 back of the house it was no new experience for Annik 
 to descend by the chestnut tree. Often when her uncle's 
 rude words had made her run upstairs in anger, she had
 
 140 PICTURES AND LEGENDS 
 
 got out of the house by this means/and now she soon 
 found her way to the branch and from thence quickly to 
 the soft ground below, for the rain had made mire of the 
 yard behind the house. 
 
 She paused and listened. She could only hear the 
 movement of the cows within the house ; she slipped on 
 her shoes, and started off in the darkness towards 
 Tregunc. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 WHAT ANNIK SAW AT THE ROCKING-STONE. 
 
 HEAVY-FOOTED, for the mud clung in lumps to her 
 shoes, tired, yet too overwrought to be sensible of fatigue, 
 Annik at last reached the road beside which stood the 
 Rocking-Stone, and before long the vast mysterious 
 mass loomed in the darkness. 
 
 She looked round her. The dull sound of lapping 
 waves told that the sea was not far off, and southwards 
 the lightness of the horizon pointed out its whereabouts. 
 
 The dull sadness of the sound recalled Lao's ominous 
 words " He must not come back to Kerion." 
 
 " Silvestik ! Silvestik !" she cried, in an agony of 
 terror, "where art thou ? It is Annik who calls."
 
 FROM NORMANDY AND BRITTANY. 141 
 
 From across the road came a voice she knew well 
 the voice of the good Cure. 
 
 "Who goes there? If you are a Christian man or 
 woman, in the name of God come and help a dying man !" 
 
 A thrill of terror passed through Annik. 
 
 " I come, I come !" she cried. 
 
 And she went in the direction of the voice, slipping 
 and stumbling over the uneven ground ; and soon, in the 
 darkness, she saw the priest bending over some one who 
 lay outstretched at his feet. 
 
 Without a word she flung herself down beside the 
 senseless body, and chafed the cold hands, till at last she 
 fancied they moved within her own. 
 
 The Cure spoke, and she answered, but it seemed to 
 Annik that she was some one else, and that she heard 
 her own voice speaking to the good father, " Beware of 
 Lao and of Guerik," she said, "they will murder Silvestik." 
 
 Presently came footsteps, and a light beamed up the 
 road. Annik rose to her feet, and she saw her uncle and 
 Lao. 
 
 She stretched out her arms and spoke vehemently 
 " Keep off, cowards and murderers ! You shall not touch 
 Silvestik." 
 
 But as she spoke she grew faint and giddy ; and as 
 Lao answered her soothingly, she sank on the ground.
 
 142 PICTURES AND LEGENDS 
 
 "Mathurin Gue"rik," the Cure said sternly, "go back 
 at once for your horse and cart to carry these children 
 home. As to you," he said to Lao, " begone you are 
 not wanted." 
 
 This was all Annik heard, and then she knew no 
 more. 
 
 Annik opened her eyes, and wondered as she looked 
 round her. 
 
 "Aha!" a cheery voice said from the chair beside 
 "the bed, "you have slept late, my poor Annik; you 
 must rise now, for Monsieur le Cure" wants a talk with 
 you." 
 
 Jeanneton, the Cure's old housekeeper, patted the 
 girl's cheek, and handed her a cup of coffee. But Annik 
 could not drink. She sat up gazing in the cheery old 
 face with eager straining eyes. She feared to ask the 
 question that hung on her lips. The old woman seemed 
 to understand the questioning look. 
 
 " Silvestik is all right," she said. " It is well to be 
 young," she went on, and she shook her head reproach- 
 fully. " Monsieur le Cur6 permits much to young people, 
 or I would ask what you and Silvestik Kergroes had 
 been about when the good father found you and brought 
 you both home half dead last night."
 
 FROM NORMANDY AND BRITTANY. 143 
 
 "And he ?" cried Annik, with a burst of sobs. 
 
 "He!" Jeanneton shrugged her shoulders. "He is 
 in the parlour with Monsieur. But he is a fright, I can 
 tell you, with his bandaged head and broken arm poor 
 fellow ! You seem to have come off best, mademoiselle," 
 she added crossly. 
 
 But Annik flung her arms round the old woman's 
 neck, laughing, and crying, and sobbing all at once, in a 
 most incoherent manner a manner which, as Jeanneton 
 afterwards told her master, was quite unsuited to a pres- 
 bytery. 
 
 But for all that, Annik stayed on at the Curb's house 
 till the chestnut leaves grew brown, and began to fall 
 slowly from their stalks, and then, one fine clear morning, 
 Silvestik and Annik were wedded in the little village 
 church of Kerion, and went home to Nizon to live at the 
 mill. 
 
 Lao Coatfrec never came back to Ke'rion, though 
 Mathurin Guerik still lived on in the old farm-house ; 
 but Annik never crossed its threshold after her marriage.
 
 144 PICTURES AND LEGENDS 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 AURAY THE BISCLAVERET. 
 
 OUR next halt afte* Quimperle was at the little town of 
 Auray, which is among the most pleasant of Breton 
 towns, quaint and quiet, sleeping beside the river of 
 the same name. 
 
 It possesses no public buildings worthy of remark, 
 and though in the oldest quarter there still remain many 
 picturesque houses dating from mediaeval times, the 
 charm of the place consists chiefly in its pleasant posi- 
 tion beside the river, almost surrounded by wooded 
 hills. It is pleasant of an evening to see the women 
 sitting in front of the quaint old houses, knitting or 
 spinning, while their tongues go as fast as the whirr of 
 the wheels. 
 
 Within a drive are to be found the stones of Carnac ; 
 and a day will take the traveller to the remarkable 
 scenery and antiquities of Loc-maria-ker and back. 
 
 A few miles from the town is the church of St. Anne 
 d'Auray, celebrated for its yearly pilgrimages. Many
 
 FROM NORMANDY AND BRITTANY. 
 
 '45 
 
 thousands of pilgrims flock thither from all parts of 
 Brittany ; and the scenes both inside and outside the 
 
 OLD WOMAN SPINNING. 
 
 church are most picturesque and entertaining. Among 
 other curious ceremonies, the pilgrims go up and down 
 the steps of the Scala Santa on their knees. There is 
 
 L
 
 146 PICTURES AND LEGENDS 
 
 also a miraculous fountain, and countless bowls and 
 vessels full of the healing water are drunk there. Blind 
 and lame beggars drive a " roaring trade " at this spot. 
 
 Close to Auray is the establishment of the Chart- 
 reuse ; it occupies the site of the chapel that the Duke of 
 Brittany, John the Fourth, caused to be built upon the 
 field of the battle of Auray. Near the church belong- 
 ing to the convent is the famous Champ des Martyrs ; 
 and here, too, stands the monument to the memory of 
 the emigres and royalists who fell at Quiberon, or were 
 shot on the banks of the Auray. 
 
 All these places of interest make the little town of 
 Auray a very desirable place to spend some days in 
 In the woods round Auray wolves used to be plentiful ; 
 and probably the scene of the Lai of Marie de France 
 was not far from Auray. 
 
 A BRETON LEGEND ADAPTED FROM THE LAI OF 
 MARIE DE FRANCE. 
 
 ONCE upon a time there lived in Brittany a noble 
 gentleman of great worth and remarkable beauty. He 
 was in high favour with his prince, and was dearly loved 
 and honoured by his friends. To crown all, he had
 
 FROM NORMANDY AND BRITTANY. 147 
 
 lately married a lovely lady of high degree, and she 
 loved him very tenderly. They were as happy as the 
 birds in springtime ; but after a while one circum- 
 stance troubled the young wife's happiness, and caused 
 her many hours of sad and anxious thought. She 
 observed that regularly every week her lord went away 
 from home for three days. She asked him the reason, 
 but he either made no reply or else evaded her inquiries. 
 Then she questioned some of the old retainers, but no 
 one seemed to know what became of their lord during 
 the three days of his absence from home. 
 
 Time passed on, and she grew yet more troubled and 
 suspicious. 
 
 One day her lord came home in a more joyous 
 and affectionate humour than was usual to him, and the 
 lady thought this was the opportunity she had been 
 seeking. 
 
 She returned his caresses very tenderly, and then 
 entreated him to explain to her the mystery of these 
 frequent absences from his castle. 
 
 " But for them," she cried, " I should be truly happy ; 
 surely you will remove this cloud from my mind. 
 
 The lord looked sorely troubled, and he turned his 
 face from her with a deep sigh. 
 
 "You must not question me, my beloved," he an-
 
 I 4 8 PICTURES AND LEGENDS 
 
 swered ; " it may be that if you do, you will altogether 
 destroy our happiness." 
 
 But her curiosity was far stronger than her love 
 was, and at last, overcome by her fond importunities, he 
 confessed his fatal secret. He told her that he was a 
 Loup-garou, or a Bisclaveret, as the Bretons call the 
 creature, and that during the three days of his weekly 
 absence from home he roamed the forest hard by in the 
 form of a wolf. 
 
 " Dame jeo deviens Bisclaveret, 
 En cele grant forest me met." 
 
 The lady's heart grew cold with horror ; but sHe hid 
 her surprise and dread as well as she could, and continued 
 her questions 
 
 " Do you roam this forest in your clothes ?" she asked. 
 
 " No," he answered, sadly. 
 
 " Tell me then," she said, coaxingly, " what you do 
 with your clothes ?" 
 
 But her lord shook his head and withdrew himself 
 from her arms. 
 
 " I may not satisfy you on this point," he said, " for 
 if by any chance I. were to lose my clothes, or if I were 
 even seen in the act of taking them off, I should be con- 
 demned to remain a loup-garou until my clothes were 
 restored to me."
 
 FROM NORMANDY AND BRITTANY. 149 
 
 The lady burst into tears. 
 
 "Ah, how unkind you are," she sobbed, "Mon Dieu ! 
 what have I done to forfeit your confidence. Tell me, 
 my husband, what risk can there be in trusting your secret 
 to your faithful wife ?" 
 
 Under the influence of these words, and the like, and 
 many caresses, the poor gentleman once more yielded. 
 
 " You know," he said, " the ancient ruined chapel near 
 to where the four roads meet in the forest. There I 
 find at these times safe shelter. In a thicket near there 
 is a hollow stone, under which I hide my clothes." . 
 
 The lady said nothing ; but she thought much. She 
 was greatly disturbed by all she had heard ; she was 
 married to a loup-garou ! and this was anything but a 
 pleasant fact to ponder on. She shuddered whenever 
 she looked at her husband, and the result of her medita- 
 tions was, that she determined to get rid of him. But 
 she kept her plans to herself,and dissembled like a woman 
 who knows all the tricks of her sex. She affected even 
 more than her usual love for her handsome lord. 
 
 There lived in the neighbourhood another cavalier, 
 who was passionately in love with the wife of the loup- 
 garou. Up to this time she had treated him with great 
 coldness but now he came into her mind ; he was not so 
 handsome as her lord, but he was not a loup-garou. She
 
 150 PICTURES AND LEGENDS 
 
 changed her behaviour towards him. During the absence 
 of her husband she sent the cavalier an invitation to come 
 and see her, giving him to understand that she was willing 
 to accept his love and his service. The cavalier, full of 
 joy, hastened to present himself before her. Their inter- 
 view was long and satisfactory ; the lady told him of the 
 secret trouble that had come into her life, and demanded 
 his aid to release her from it ; she told him at the same 
 time what had passed between her husband and herself 
 about the concealment of the clothes and what would 
 befall if they were taken away. 
 
 " Do you think that any union is binding to" such a 
 monster as a loup-garou ?" 
 
 " No, by heavens !" said the cavalier, who then ex- 
 pressed the most devoted love for her, and pledged him- 
 self to do all she wished. So they parted. 
 
 From that day the unfortunate husband was no more 
 seen ; his friends and his relations sought for him in vain. 
 His wife also made a show of great grief at his strange 
 disappearance, and caused diligent search to be made, 
 but before many months had elapsed she married the 
 cavalier. 
 
 Just at this time it happened that the king had 
 passed a whole year without hunting, and all at once 
 he felt violently inclined for a day's sport in the forest.
 
 FROM NORMANDY AND BRITTANY. 151 
 
 Now the forest in which the king was accustomed to 
 hunt happened to be the very one in which our poor 
 Bisclaveret had been condemned to wander. The king 
 summoned his noblest attendants, and set out for the 
 chase. Almost as soon as the hounds were uncoupled, they 
 discovered the poor animal, and dashed after him as he 
 fled at their approach. They pursued him all through 
 the day ; already he had received several wounds, his 
 strength was almost exhausted. The hounds were closing 
 in upon him, and he was preparing for the last struggle, 
 when he perceived the king ; in an instant he darted up 
 to the prince, raised himself against his stirrup, licked 
 the prince's leg and foot, and, by his pitiful moans and 
 almost human look, seemed to implore his protection. 
 
 At first the king was alarmed by this strange inci- 
 dent, but finding no harm come of it, he quickly recovered 
 himself. " Hold off," he said to his followers, " and call 
 off the dogs ; I forbid that any injury should be done to 
 the poor animal which has sought my protection." To his 
 astonishment the creature seemed to understand him. 
 It at once became quiet, and stood beside his stirrup, 
 looking up at him with grateful eyes. The king was 
 more and more surprised ; he at once gave orders to re- 
 turn to the palace. He said he had had enough sport 
 for that day. The wolf followed close behind the king,
 
 152 PICTURES AND LEGENDS 
 
 like a dog, and when they reached the palace went up 
 with him even to his chamber. The courtiers tried to 
 interfere, but the king, yielding to some strange influence, 
 bade them let the beast alone. 
 
 So it came to pass that the wolf was in great favour 
 both with the king and the whole court. 
 
 He spent his days among the courtiers, who delighted 
 in his intelligence and his gentleness, but every night he 
 slept at the foot of the king's bed. 
 
 Not very long after the capture of the loup- 
 garou, the king determined to hold a cour pleniere, 
 and to give greater importance to the occasion he invited 
 all his barons and vassals to be present. The cavalier 
 who had married the wife of the loup-garou came among 
 the others. As usual the wolf was at his post close be- 
 side the king. But when the cavalier advanced from 
 the crowd to pay homage to his prince, the wolf uttered 
 a wild cry, sprang upon him, threw him down, and bit 
 him very severely. 
 
 There was a loud clamour, and all was confusion, but 
 the king shouted to the animal, and it immediately slunk 
 back to its place beside the royal chair. Every one was 
 astonished at this sudden outbreak of fury from so tame 
 and gentle a creature, which had hitherto behaved more 
 l;e a lamb than a wolf. But many who witnessed the
 
 FROM NORMANDY AND BRITTANY. 153 
 
 attack shook their heads, and said it was very strange ; 
 there was more in it than they could understand. 
 
 The cavalier was furious ; he would have killed the 
 wolf if he had not feared the king's displeasure. How- 
 ever, he promised himself an early day of vengeance. 
 
 Some time after this the king went again to hunt in 
 the forest where he had met with our wolf. The creature 
 went with him ; it seemed as though it felt that there 
 was no security for it away from the king, and, indeed, 
 the king himself, moved by his affection and by some 
 strange sympathy, had commanded that the animal 
 should be always with him. 
 
 The faithless wife of the loup-garou, hearing of the 
 royal visit to her neighbourhood, requested an audience. 
 Her request was granted, but as soon as she entered the 
 king's presence the wolf sprang at her, as he had sprung 
 at her husband, and bit off her nose. Swords were 
 quickly drawn, and the woman was rescued from the 
 furious animal, which would have been most certainly cut 
 to pieces, but a wise man among those present took the 
 creature's part, and begged his assailants to hold their 
 hands a while, "there is something strange in all this ;" 
 he said, " I counsel His Majesty to imprison this lady 
 till she confesses, if she is able, what cause for hatred 
 this wolf has against herself and her husband."
 
 154 PICTURES AND LEGENDS 
 
 At first the terrified woman denied all kncnvledee of 
 
 o 
 
 this beast, but after a while faint and suffering, and 
 seeing that her imprisonment was resolved on she told 
 the story of the loup-garou, and confessed her sin against 
 him. She said that she and her present husband had 
 stolen his clothes from under the stone where they were 
 hidden ; and then bursting into tears, she said, "And this 
 wolf is doubtless my former lord." 
 
 The king then demanded if any of her lord's clothes 
 were yet in her possession ; and when she answered 
 "Yes," he bade her send and fetch them instantly. This 
 was done, and the clothes were placed before the Bis- 
 claveret, but he seemed to take no notice of them. Then 
 the wise man who had before spoken said it was probable 
 the loup-garou would not put on his clothes or undergo 
 his metamorphosis in public. 
 
 The king agreed with this opinion, and he himself 
 took the loup-garou into his own bedroom, where he 
 left him alone with the clothes. 
 
 Some hours after he returned accompanied by two 
 of his barons and to his wonder and delight he saw his 
 long lost favourite asleep upon the royal bed. 
 
 At this sight the king could not restrain his joy ; 
 with a loud cry he ran to him. 
 
 The noble wakened at the noise, and sprang to his
 
 FROM NORMANDY AND BRITTANY. 155 
 
 feet rubbing his eyes. The king threw his arms round 
 him, and kissed him on both cheeks, crying out how 
 happy he was to see him once more. 
 
 He immediately restored to him all his former 
 honours and possessions, and also bestowed many rich 
 gifts upon him. The faithless wife, and the cavalier who 
 had helped her to accomplish her treason, were ignomini- 
 ously banished the kingdom. The guilty pair lived some 
 years after, and had several children, and strangely 
 enough the girls were all born without noses.
 
 PICTURES AND LEGENDS 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 VANNES THE STORY OF THE GLOVER. 
 
 FROM Auray the drive to Vannes is very pleasant, though 
 at first sight Vannes seems dull and wanting in colour in 
 comparison with the picturesque towns of Finistere. 
 But it is the capital of Morbihan, and within reach of it 
 are some of the grandest and weirdest of the monolithic 
 remains that make Brittany so specially interesting. As 
 we stayed on in Vannes, and found out its quaint twisted 
 streets and charming fragments of old wall built up 
 between houses, its Tour du Connetable, with the wash- 
 ing-place in the river below so full of light and shade, its 
 evening walks in the tree-shaded Garenne, we grew 
 warmly attached to the old city so full of historical 
 memories, and were loth to leave it. One of its best 
 local antiquaries, Mr. Alfred Fouquet, had died not long 
 before we reached Vannes. He not only made some 
 very useful researches in Carnac and elsewhere, and 
 published a most useful little manual for the use of 
 travellers in search of the real wonders of Brittany, but
 
 FROM NORMANDY AND BRITTANY. 157 
 
 he had begun to collect real legends from the lips of 
 the peasantry, and had published a book, now, alas ! out 
 of print, containing a collection of these. We tried 
 vainly to get a sight of this book, but even his widow 
 did not seem to possess a copy of it ; however, we heard 
 one or two of the stories, and the following is said to 
 be in M. Fouquet's collection : 
 
 (Blotoer of 
 
 THERE lived in Vannes a great many years ago an 
 honest and devout glover. His nearest friend was a 
 tailor who lived in the place Henri Quatre, but he lay 
 a-dying, and his friend the glover had stayed with him 
 till a late hour doing all for him that he could. 
 
 Late as it was he saw, as he passed the cathedral that 
 the doors were still open, and he turned into the church 
 and knelt before the altar of one of the side chapels. 
 
 There was scarcely any light, almost all the worship- 
 pers had departed, the place was wrapped in deep silence, 
 and the poor glover, exhausted by his grief and by many 
 nights of watching beside his sick friend, soon began to 
 nod. 
 
 He roused himself, but he soon fell off to sleep again, 
 such sound sleep that neither the jingle of the keys nor
 
 158 PICTURES AND LEGENDS 
 
 the sound of the locks, nor even the angelus bell, roused 
 him awake. 
 
 All at once the clock struck twelve, and then the 
 glover started and rubbed his eyes ; he was stiff with 
 cold, and he could not remember where he was. It was 
 no longer dark, and as he opened his eyes wide awake 
 now, he saw standing before the altar at which he knelt 
 a priest garbed in a black chasuble embroidered with a 
 large white cross. The altar was draped in black, and 
 two wax candles stood on it ; by their pale light he saw 
 on each candle a death's head and crossbones. 
 
 The glover was much surprised and deeply impressed 
 by what seemed to him a funereal scene, but as he was 
 always more ready to help others than to think of him- 
 self, he soon remarked that there was no assistant pre- 
 sent, and he went and knelt down before the priest to 
 act as server. 
 
 As he knelt down he glanced at the priest's face 
 
 Oh, horror ! the priest was a skeleton with hollow 
 eye-sockets and fleshless cheeks. 
 
 The terrified glover fell senseless on the ground, and 
 there he remained till the morning angelus bell roused 
 him, and he went home to his family. 
 
 From this time he was a changed man. All the 
 serene gaiety that had once characterised him dis-
 
 FROM NORMANDY AND BRITTANY. 159 
 
 appeared, he became morose and silent even towards 
 his wife, and he scarcely noticed his children. Above all 
 things he dreaded sleep ; it no sooner visited him than he 
 was filled with fear, horrible dreams and frightful night- 
 mare soon banished sleep, and made bedtime a penance 
 to which he looked forward with dread. 
 
 At last, afraid that his reason was deserting him, he 
 resolved to confide all to his spiritual guide, and he im- 
 plored the good priest to shed, if possible, some peace 
 into his soul. 
 
 " My son," said the priest, " you are in error ; why 
 should you thus fret and disturb your soul about that 
 which is perhaps only a delusion, but which, if it is real, 
 should be made a matter of serious inquiry ? Either 
 Satan tempted you during that night in the cathedral, 
 or you are chosen by God himself to expiate some negli- 
 gence or sacrilege committed against him. There is but 
 one way, my son, if you would regain peace here on 
 earth and assure your eternal salvation : you must watch 
 in the same place and at the same hour for the return of 
 the visitation which has so shaken your nerves." 
 
 " Oh, my father," cried the glover, " do not lay such 
 a penance on me. The terror of it will infallibly destroy 
 me." 
 
 " If you go to the chapel trusting in your own
 
 160 PICTURES AND LEGENDS 
 
 strength," said the confessor " you will doubtless perish ; 
 but, my son, you well know that faith is our sure shield, 
 and that prayer is a most powerful weapon. Pray and 
 believe, and if the spectre reappears, question it boldly in 
 the name of the living God ; bid it tell you in whose 
 name it comes. Go, my son, I absolve you, and may 
 God be with you." 
 
 That very evening strong in faith, but weak in 
 spirit the glover went to the cathedral. He knelt 
 before the altar in the same chapel, .but he did not 
 fall asleep ; he heard the gates and doors lock, but he 
 did not think he prayed fervently till the dreaded hour 
 came. 
 
 The first stroke of midnight sounded, and all at once 
 the two candles on the altar lit of themselves. The 
 altar was draped in black, and the skeleton priest in his 
 black chasuble appeared on the threshold of the chapel. 
 
 " Hold," cried the glover, " if you come in the name 
 of Satan I charge you to depart from this holy place ; 
 but if you come in the name of Almighty God, speak, 
 and tell your need." 
 
 " Listen and believe, my son," said the spectre in a 
 stifled voice ; " for years, oh ! such long years of suffering, 
 I am doomed to wait every night at this altar till some 
 good Christian comes to serve at a mass which I pro-
 
 RUE DE JER2UAL, Ul.NAN.
 
 FROAT NORMANDY AND BRITTANY. 161 
 
 mised to say, and which I first neglected, and then 
 forgot. This fatal neglect and forgetfulness have closed 
 heaven, not only against me, but against the soul for 
 which the mass should have been said. Blessed art 
 thou my son whom God has chosen to save two souls." 
 
 He ceased and knelt down before the altar ; the 
 glover knelt beside him, and the mass of the dead was 
 said ; but as the priest uttered the words " depart in 
 peace," he disappeared ; and the glover looking up, saw 
 through the window two broad rays of light going up 
 heavenward. 
 
 The glover wiped his forehead, and then waited 
 till the angelus bell sounded ; then he returned to his 
 family with his wonted happy smile, for his mind 
 had recovered its balance, and peace reigned in his 
 soul. 
 
 M
 
 1 62 PICTURES AND LEGENDS 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 DINAN THE DUEL BETWEEN BERTRAND DU GUESCLIN AND SIR 
 THOMAS OF CANTERBURY THE STORY OF LA GARAYE. 
 
 WE found the scenery of the valley of the Ranee most 
 charming and romantic ; on the side and summit of a 
 rocky steep in this valley the town of Dinan is built, 
 and its effect from the river is exquisitely picturesque. 
 The town itself is very interesting ; the older quarters 
 abound in quaint houses, with overhanging stones and 
 arcades on granite or wooden pillars. 
 
 The Rue de Jerzual, the subject of the illustration, 
 is of great length ; it leads down almost to the water's 
 edge, and presents a succession of quaint old houses, 
 forming many charming pictures. This street is so 
 steep, that it is a labour to climb ; it was originally the 
 only approach to the town on the St. Malo side. Now 
 the splendid granite viaduct which spans the valley 
 (begun in 1846) enables one to avoid this laborious 
 ascent. The piers of this viaduct rise one hundred and 
 thirty feet from the bed of the river.
 
 FROM NORMANDY AND BRITTANY. 163 
 
 The castle, built early in the fourteenth century, 
 with its machicolated donjon, is very picturesque ; 
 it is a fine and well-preserved specimen of military 
 architecture. Anne of Brittany lived in it. Bertrand 
 du Guesclin withstood a siege in this castle, the public 
 place of Dinan was the scene of the famous combat 
 between du Guesclin and the English knight, Sir 
 Thomas of Canterbury, in 1359. 
 
 It was during the siege of Dinan by the Duke of 
 Lancaster, that this duel a Fontrance took place. The 
 account of it is taken from a life of Du Guesclin by 
 Emile de Bonnechose. Bertrand du Guesclin was in 
 Dinan with his young brother Oliver ; a suspension of 
 arms for forty days having been signed, Oliver, relying 
 on the treaty, went out of the town without any misgiv- 
 ings, and approached the English camp. He met on his 
 way a very strong and valiant English knight, by name 
 Sir Thomas of Canterbury, who stopped him, seized his 
 person, and taking him by force to the camp, kept him 
 prisoner in his tent. When the news reached Bertrand, 
 he grew red with fury (" S'y rougit comme charbon "), 
 says the old chronicler, and having learned the name of 
 the false knight who held his brother captive, cried out, 
 "By St. Yves, he shall soon give him up." Bertrand 
 immediately mounts his horse, gallops to the English
 
 164 PICTURES AND LEGENDS 
 
 camp, and arriving at the Prince's tent, demands an 
 audience. He enters and finds the Duke of Lancaster 
 playing chess with the celebrated Sir John Chandos, 
 surrounded by the principal barons, among whom are 
 Robert Knolles and young Montfort. 
 
 The prince having recognised him, said, "You are 
 welcome, Bertrand." And as Bertrand bent the knee 
 before him, Lancaster left his game, held out his hand 
 to him, and raised him up. The English barons also 
 welcomed him, and Chandos offered him wine ; but 
 Bertrand answered that he would not lift a glass to his 
 lips until justice had been done him for the foul outrage 
 offered to his brother. He then told them how his brother 
 Oliver had been taken captive, contrary to all right, by 
 Canterbury, and demanded that he should be delivered 
 up to him at once. Lancaster immediately summoned 
 the accused to his presence and ordered him to answer 
 the accusation. Canterbury, trusting in his strength, 
 and full of wrath and arrogance, answered that if 
 Bertrand du Guesclin imputed to him an action unworthy 
 of a knight, he must prove it by sustaining his cause in 
 person sword in hand, and so saying he threw down his 
 glove. 
 
 Du Guesclin rushed to pick it up. " False knight," 
 said he, "perjured and traitor, I will prove it on thy
 
 FROM NORMANDY AND BRITTANY. 165 
 
 body ! I will fight thee before all the barons. I swear by 
 the true God that I will not sleep in a bed nor break 
 bread until I have had the right of thee in full armour 
 at the point of the sword." 
 
 Lancaster gave his consent to the combat, and 
 Chandos presented Bertrand with a horse as a mark of 
 his esteem. 
 
 When the inhabitants of Dinan heard of this duel of 
 Du Guesclin in enclosed lists with one of the best 
 champions of England, they were moved with lively fear 
 for him whom they considered their strongest defender. 
 All of them great and small offered prayers to God for 
 him. 
 
 Then a noble young lady, by name Typhaine 
 Raguenel, renowned for her beauty and wisdom, calmed 
 their apprehensions. She was the daughter of one of 
 the richest inhabitants of the town, and had so high a 
 reputation for learning in astrology and other occult 
 sciences, that she was considered a witch by the 
 common people. " Do not be alarmed, good people," 
 she said to the townsfolks of Dinan ; " fear nothing for 
 Bertrand, he will be the victor in this conflict." These 
 words were repeated to Du Guesclin ; but he was then far 
 from foreseeing the close ties which should hereafter 
 bind him to this noble lady, and he said, " You should not
 
 166 PICTURES AND LEGENDS 
 
 pay heed to the vain words of a woman, I put all my 
 confidence in God and in my right." 
 
 It was decided that the combat should take place in 
 the large market-place of Dinan, in the presence of the 
 Duke of Lancaster ; that the town should give hostages, 
 and that the Prince should be admitted with a train of 
 a hundred knights and barons chosen by himself. 
 
 As the day approached, Canterbury began to lose 
 courage, and Robert Knolles, in his name, attempted to 
 make an accommodation with Du Guesclin ; but Bertrand 
 was too much incensed ; " If he does not wish to fight, let 
 him give himself up to my mercy, and present me with 
 his sword, holding it in his hand by the point." 
 
 " He will not do that," said Robert Knolles. " He is 
 right," said Bertrand, "honour is worth more than life." 
 
 The lists were duly opened in the great market-place 
 of the town, under the presidentship of the Duke of 
 Lancaster, surrounded by his knights, and in the presence 
 of the governor of the city, the Sire de Penhoen, and a 
 vast assemblage of the inhabitants. 
 
 The two champions appeared, armed from head to 
 foot, and their horses also completely covered with steel. 
 
 The signal given, they urged their horses forward 
 with fury, and threw themselves, sword in hand, one on 
 the other. The combat was long, as they seemed oi
 
 FROM NORMANDY AND BRITTANY. 167 
 
 equal strength. The blows they gave each other were 
 terrible ; the swords struck fire from their armour, 
 but it was impenetrable, and no blood flowed. At last 
 they seized hold of each other, each attempting to drag 
 the other from his horse. 
 
 In this struggle the Englishman dropped his sword, 
 whereupon Bertrand quickly sprang down into the arena, 
 seized the sword, and threw it over the lists among the 
 crowd. Canterbury now had no weapon but his dagger 
 or poignard ; but he was on horseback while his 
 adversary was on foot, and driving his horse against Du 
 Guesclin, he prevented his remounting, and pursued him 
 across the arena, hoping to crush him under his horse's 
 feet. 
 
 Du Guesclin avoided him with difficulty, as he was 
 impeded by his armour. At last he sat down to unfasten 
 his knee-pieces, and then, as the Englishman threw him- 
 self again upon him, he sprang adroitly to one side, 
 plunging his sword, as his enemy passed, into his horse's 
 side. The animal bounded with the pain, reared up, and 
 threw his rider. Du Guesclin darted forward, seized the 
 Englishman by the throat, and pressing his knee on his 
 chest, struck him several blows on the face. 
 
 The Duke of Lancaster at this juncture interfered, 
 the knights ran forward and called upon Bertrand to 
 spare the vanquished.
 
 r68 PICTURES AND LEGENDS 
 
 " Grant his life to the Duke," said Robert Knolles ; 
 it is enough, all the honour is yours. " I grant his life 
 to the Duke," said Bertrand ; and advancing towards 
 the prince, " Sire," he said with respect, " if it had not 
 been for obedience to you, I would have killed him." 
 
 "He will not fare much better," said Lancaster; "you 
 have fought valiantly. Your brother will be restored 
 to you, and I will give him a thousand livres to equip 
 himself. The arms and horse of this felon knight are 
 yours ; I do not love traitors, and he will come no 
 more to my court." 
 
 Lancaster and his followers returned to the camp. 
 Oliver was restored to his brother and the day ended 
 with a grand fete given by the inhabitants of Dinan to 
 the conqueror, and at which was present the beautiful 
 Typhaine Raguenel, who had foretold the victory. 
 
 She went by the name of Typhaine la Fee, from 
 her reputed skill in magic and her astronomic studies. 
 She was rich as well as learned; and in 1360 Du 
 Guesclin asked her in marriage. The wedding was 
 solemnised at Pontorson, which Du Guesclin at that 
 time governed in the name of the King of France. 
 
 Typhaine seems to have been a very fit wife for a 
 hero, and the marriage was a very happy one. 
 
 The heart of this valiant Breton knight was buried
 
 RUINS OF THE AliBKV, LEHON.
 
 FROM NORMANDY AND BRITTANY. 169 
 
 beside his wife, the Lady Typhaine, in the church ol 
 the Jacobins at Dinan, but now church and heart and 
 tomb have disappeared. A black stone in the cathedral 
 gives the lying intelligence that Du Guesclin's heart 
 reposes there, while his body is at St. Denis ; the 
 hero's house is in the Rue de la Croix. Dinan is 
 still surrounded by strong walls and massive watch- 
 towers, and the old gateways also remain. 
 
 The general aspect of Dinan and the country 
 around are alike charming. 
 
 " De ce splendide paysage 
 Qui nous retracera 1'image? 
 Venez bardes melodieux, 
 De cette tribune de pierre, 
 Voir Ie ciel sourire a la terre 
 Voir la terre sourire aux cieux." 
 
 Within an easy walk is the village of Lehon, one 
 of the pleasantest and prettiest of Breton villages. 
 Once it was famous for a castle and an abbey, now 
 both in ruins. The castle of Lehon was one of the 
 most powerful in Brittany, built on the top of a steep 
 hill overlooking the village, but little of it now remains. 
 The ruins of the abbey are far more pe;fect, and, as the 
 illustration shows, form a very picturesque feature in 
 the landscape, as they stand embosomed in trees beside 
 the sunny smiling Ranee, that prettiest of Breton rivers
 
 170 
 
 PICTURES AND LEGENDS 
 
 so pretty that it perhaps loses some of the character- 
 istics of Brittany the weird pathos of its stone-covered 
 landes and the turbulence of its rocky brawling streams. 
 
 CHURCH, LEHON.
 
 FROM NORMANDY AND BRITTANY. 171 
 
 of Ha (Eatrape, 
 
 THE poem, " The Lady of La Garaye," had inspired 
 us with a very ardent wish to see the ruins of this 
 famous chateau famous in so remarkable a way 
 not for sieges sustained and heroic feats of valour, 
 but for succour and solace given to hundreds of poor 
 suffering human beings by its skilful and beneficent 
 lord and lady ; for the local record of the story of the 
 Count and Countess of La Garaye speaks of Count 
 Claude as the prime mover in this great work of mercy, 
 of which his lady's accident suggested the idea. 
 
 We went out of quaint picturesque old-world Dinan 
 by the old gateway along the shaded Boulevard, under 
 the walls of the exquisitely placed town, which looks 
 down on all sides on charming and wooded country. 
 
 Soon we came into a pleasant green valley, with 
 a distant view of grand old trees. This valley led us 
 into a sort of rocky pass, where trees met overhead, a 
 most refreshing resting-place on this hot August after- 
 noon. Soon after we came in sight of the grand old 
 avenue of beech-trees. These were exquisite in colour, 
 light, and shade, as the level sunshine poured its 
 brilliant flood over the grassed drive, while the massive
 
 172 
 
 PICTURES AND LEGENDS 
 
 boles of the trees cast broad bands of shadow across 
 the golden floor. 
 
 THE CHATEAU OF LA GARAYE, 
 
 There is a loneliness even in the beauty of this old 
 avenue reaching to a length of more than two 
 hundred yards so silent now that we found it difficult to
 
 FROM NORMANDY AND BRITTANY. 173 
 
 realise that human habitation was near, and this feeling 
 of loneliness and desolation deepened to intense melan- 
 choly as we drew near the actual entrance of the 
 chateau. 
 
 The crumbling gate-piers of La Garaye are covered 
 with ivy, and trees have sprung from their tops. The 
 entrance-court is cumbered with blocks of ruined 
 masonry some completely mantled with ivy, others 
 bright with fern ; over all thorny red-stemmed brambles 
 flaunt their long arms boldly, as if asserting possession. 
 
 The chateau is a complete ruin, except the well- 
 known, almost perfect, bit that stands in the vegetable 
 garden. This bit is exquisite in colour, yet more beau- 
 tiful, perhaps, in its decay than when it was whole. 
 
 It seems a harsh mockery to gaze at this lonely 
 bit of ruin from the well-stocked fruit garden of the 
 farmer who now owns La Garaye, and makes market 
 out of the pilgrims who visit the site where so much 
 good has been practised. It is a disgrace to the 
 country that Monsieur de la Garaye's noble work 
 should not have been revived for the hospital build- 
 ings still remain ; an effort at least might be made to 
 prevent the total destruction of his fair home. For 
 month by month stones fall from La Garaye, the bats 
 and owls that haunt the clustering ivy, as they swoop
 
 174 PICTURES AND LEGENDS 
 
 to and fro in their night revels, shake and loosen cling- 
 ing fragments, and send them into the bosom of the wild 
 picturesque luxuriance below, a tangle of nettles and 
 brambles extending all around, starred here and there 
 with golden-eyed blossoms, while tufts of flowering 
 grass and faithful snap-dragon still haunt the walls of this 
 pathetic ruin, and seem to kiss the mouldering stones. 
 
 It is difficult at first sight to picture La Garaye as 
 it was in the first married years of Count Claude, and 
 in the first part of that eighteenth century which 
 changed the destinies of France, and branded her fair 
 bosom with ineffaceable scars. 
 
 Claude Toussaint Marot, Count of La Garaye, 
 baron of Blaizon, Viscount of Beaufort and of Taden, 
 and lord of many other places, commander and grand 
 hospitaller of our Lady of Mount Carmel, was the 
 richest and most powerful noble of his time near Dinan 
 when, on the death of his eldest brother, he succeeded 
 to the family estates. He was as gifted and as hand- 
 some as he was rich and powerful, and he was univers- 
 ally beloved. He had married a lovely and loveable 
 lady, Marie Marguerite de la Motte-Picquet, the 
 heroine of Lady Stirling-Maxwell's exquisite poem ; 
 but, as has been said, one hears less in local traditions 
 of the Lady of La Garaye than of her husband, though
 
 FROM NORMANDY AND BRITTANY. i 7s 
 
 it was doubtless the blight thrown on her early married 
 life that roused fhis devoted pair from their frivolous 
 course of gaiety and self-pleasing. 
 
 Though the Chateau la Garaye is only a heap of 
 ruins, there are still fragments enough left to show that 
 it was a richly adorned building of the sixteenth 
 century. It must have been a splendid abode, filled, 
 as it was, with every then known luxury, and crowded 
 with honoured guests who helped the gay, pleasure- 
 loving pair to waste their days. Banquets and balls, 
 shooting and hunting, and all the other amusements of 
 the period, were to be found in perfection at La Garaye ; 
 and the hunting train of richly dressed guests and 
 followers, splendid horses and dogs, is said to have 
 been a grand sight to witness as it issued from the 
 castle gates, and caracoled under the splendid beech 
 trees. The Countess La Garaye, specially famed for 
 her grace and beauty of movement, was passionately 
 fond of hunting, and a most accomplished horsewoman, 
 and she delighted in sharing every pursuit of her beloved 
 lord. One day while following the hounds with her 
 husband, she was flung violently from her horse ; she 
 was carried home insensible, and supposed to be 
 mortally injured. Her life was, however, spared, and 
 Mrs. Norton tells this part of the story most touchingly:
 
 i?6 PICTURES AND LEGENDS 
 
 how when sense returns to the sweet Lady of La Garaye 
 
 she hears the "grave physician's" fiat that she will be 
 
 " Crooked and sick for ever." 
 
 " Long on his face her wistful gaze she kept, 
 
 Then dropped her head and wildly moaned and wept, 
 Shivering through every limb, as lightning thought 
 Smote her with all the endless ruin wrought. 
 Never to be a mother ! Never give 
 Another life beyond her own to live, 
 Never to see her husband bless their child, 
 Thinking (dear blessed thought) like him it smiled : 
 Never again with Claud to walk or ride, 
 Partake his pleasures with a playful pride, 
 But cease from all companionship so shared, 
 And only have the hours his pity spared. 
 
 And she- repeated with a moaning cry, 
 
 ' Better to die, O God ! Twere best to die.' " 
 
 She had lost all beauty, and the grace of movement 
 for which she had been so famed could no longer be 
 exercised. She was now a sickly, crippled woman, 
 sighing and sobbing life away. Her husband gave up 
 many of his out-door pursuits to sit beside her sick- 
 bed, but all in vain ; it seemed to her that she was de- 
 priving him of the joys in which she could no longer 
 share, and that soon he would find the time thus spent 
 beside her an irksome burden on his pleasures. Try 
 as he would, he could not reconcile the beloved sufferer
 
 FROM NORMANDY AND BRITTANY. 177 
 
 to submit to the blow which had so suddenly 
 crushed her existence and left her hanging like a broken 
 lily on its stalk, between life and death. 
 
 The death of a dearly-loved brother who was visiting 
 them at Chateau la Garaye threw a yet deeper gloom 
 over their saddened life. The Countess could not well 
 be more grief-stricken and despairing than she already 
 was, but to Count Claude this fresh blow was over- 
 whelming. His brother's death had left him indeed 
 alone. 
 
 He went to gaze for the last time on the face of 
 this beloved friend, and his anguish grew beyond all 
 control. The silence of the priest who knelt beside the 
 dead man irritated the Count almost to frenzy. " Ah, 
 father," he exclaimed, " how happy you are ; you are 
 free from all the shackles of earthly love ; you do not 
 know the meaning of suffering." 
 
 The priest rose from his knees and looked tenderly 
 at the mourner. " You mistake, my son," he said gently ; 
 " I love all who suffer, but I submit to God's will, and 
 I bend myself resignedly to the blows he deals me, 
 whatever they may be, because they are dealt by Him." 
 
 Monsieur de la Garaye was greatly struck. Was 
 there then, he asked himself, less misery in submitting 
 to than in murmuring against God's will ?
 
 i;8 PICTURES AND LEGENDS 
 
 Some time after this, tradition says that Claude de 
 la Garaye had a vision ; he dreamed that he came home 
 one winter's night late from a long day's hunting. The 
 ground beneath the beech-trees of the great avenue 
 was covered with snow, and the bare branches rattled 
 in the keen north wind. All at once the Count saw 
 advancing towards him a white horseman surrounded 
 with flames, flames too seemed to hover round his 
 white steed. Claude reined up his horse and waited till 
 the apparition came closer to him. 
 
 " Claude de la Garaye," it said, " if you really wish 
 for happiness, you must change your whole life. Give 
 up your frivolous pleasures, and spend your abundant 
 riches in relieving the poor and afflicted, so shall 
 the blessing of God be yours in this world and in the 
 next. I, your brother, who died so short a time ago 
 in your arms, am sent to give you this warning." 
 
 Claude la Garaye waked from his dream and pon- 
 dered his brother's words, and during that night he is said 
 to have made the resolution which changed the whole 
 course of his life. He told his wife of the warning he 
 had received she was now to a certain extent convales- 
 cent, and, in spite of her weakness, she resolved to go 
 with him to Paris, there to gain the scientific knowledge 
 necessary for the project they had both determined to 
 carry out at La Garaye.
 
 FROM NORMANDY AND BRITTANY. 179 
 
 For three years the Count carefully devoted his 
 whole time to the practical study of medicine, surgery, 
 and chemistry, and made rapid progress therein, while 
 his weak and crippled wife studied ophthalmic surgery 
 at the Hotel Dieu. So skilful did she become that 
 she was ultimately most successful in performing opera- 
 tions for the removal of cataract at the Hospital of La 
 Garaye. 
 
 The noble pair began their studies in the year 
 1710, when the Count de la Garaye was thirty-six, and 
 at the close of their three years' noviciate they returned 
 to La Garaye, and laid the foundations of the large 
 range of buildings which still exists on the western side 
 of the Chateau. They gathered round them a skilful 
 band of doctors, surgeons, and medical students, and 
 were soon able to open their hospital to the poor and 
 suffering, whom they tended themselves most devotedly. 
 
 The fame of the hospital spread ; patients flocked 
 to it from all parts of France. Louis XV. was so 
 touched by the generosity of the La Garayes, that he 
 sent for the Count and invested him with the Cross of 
 the order of St. Lazare, and gave him 75,000 livres. 
 
 It is said that Monsieur de la Garaye would rise 
 and attend his patients at any hour of the night. His 
 ordinary rule was to rise at half-past four in summer,
 
 i8o PICTURES AND LEGENDS 
 
 in winter a little later, and study in his laboratory 
 till seven, then to join with his patients in family prayer ; 
 after this he dressed the wounds of his poor people, went 
 to hear mass, and then breakfasted. After breakfast 
 he tried scientific experiments, visited the hospital at 
 eleven, presided at the dinner of his patients, and when 
 they had dined he took a frugal meal himself. 
 
 After dinner he talked to his workpeople and 
 labourers, or went out shooting. At four o'clock he 
 came home and saw his patients. Eight o'clock was 
 supper-time, with religious reading. At half-past nine 
 every one went to bed, except those who tended the 
 sick. 
 
 On Sundays and festivals the Count himself preached 
 to his guests, as he called the poor sufferers he watched 
 over. 
 
 The Countess seems to have been not only a 
 ministering angel among the patients whom she nursed 
 devotedly by night as well as by day, but also a saviour 
 of many souls whom she brought back to the faith and 
 ordinances of their youth. The noble pair were de- 
 servedly loved and reverenced by their patients and 
 throughout the country round. 
 
 The Hospital of La Garaye was not the Count's 
 only good work. During one very severe winter he not
 
 FROM NORMANDY AND BRITTANY. 181 
 
 only sold a great portion of his plate to relieve the 
 general distress, but he employed a great number of 
 poor people whom the terrible famine that then ravaged 
 France had brought to ruin in reclaiming and cultivat- 
 ing vast wastes belonging to his estates. He also 
 founded at Dinan the Hospital for Incurables which 
 still exists, and at Tardu a Convent for Charity School- 
 girls. 
 
 In 1720 Marseilles was desolated by the plague, 
 hundreds of people died daily. When the tidings came 
 to the ears of Monsieur de La Garaye he at once offered 
 his personal services to the Archbishop. But his 
 crowning act of self-devotion, and that which should 
 make the name of Claude de la Garaye for ever dear to 
 Englishmen, happened during the war between France 
 and Great Britain in 1 747. He had been ready 
 enough to take arms, and to arm his tenants and de- 
 pendants, at the first hint of foreign invasion ; but when 
 he heard that two or three thousand English prisoners 
 were shut up in the Castle of Dinan, and that the 
 prison was so overcrowded, and the captives so 
 neglected, that a malignant fever had broken out, 
 Monsieur La Garaye did not shrink from the danger, 
 although the fever had destroyed not only many of the 
 unhappy English, but the doctors and nuns who tended
 
 182 PICTURES AND LEGENDS 
 
 them. He came at once to Dinan, and by his skill and 
 timely succour saved many lives. The English seem 
 to have been much impressed by his benevolence. One 
 nobleman presented him with six thorough-bred dogs, 
 and Queen Anne (the French biographer must mean 
 Queen Caroline) sent him two others, each wearing a 
 silver collar. 
 
 The Count of La Garaye went on with his work 
 till he was eighty years old, and then died sitting in his 
 arm-chair died peacefully as he had lived, without 
 apparent suffering. He and his wife both lie buried 
 in the little graveyard at Tardu, their graves being 
 marked by very simple tombs against the wall of the 
 village church. The Count's has this inscription : 
 
 Cy gitte corps, 
 de Messire Claude T.oussaints Marot, 
 
 Chevalier, Comte de la Garaye, 
 Dce"de" le 2 Juillet, en son chateau, 
 
 1755-
 
 FROM NORM A A' DY AND BRITTANY. 183 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 DDL A LEGEND OF ST. CHRISTOPHER THE OLD WOMAN'S COW 
 THE HOME OF CHATEAUBRIAND CHATEAU COMBOURG 
 VITRE. 
 
 IF for no other cause, the town of Dol must always 
 dwell pleasantly in the minds of the authors of this 
 book in connection with a certain huge fig-tree in the 
 garden of its Inn of Notre Dame. The weather was 
 hot, and the ripe excellent fruit most refreshing ; and 
 at going away the kind landlady presented us with a 
 dainty basketful packed in glorious leaves, the contents 
 of which proved most grateful on the journey. 
 
 But Dol is a quaint and interesting town, and has 
 a very fine cathedral, older and in purer style than most 
 Breton churches ; and besides it has a special attraction 
 to the traveller about to enter Normandy. From the 
 summit of Mont Dol, a little way out of the town, can 
 be seen through a glass the famous Mont S. Michel. 
 
 Dol seems to form a connecting link between Nor- 
 mandy and Brittany. The bridge, with its groups of 
 ancient houses, is a very picturesque object ; the water
 
 184 
 
 PICTURES AND LEGENDS 
 
 below is generally gay with knots of quaintly capped 
 women for the caps of Dol are some of the most 
 remarkable in Brittany washing brilliant bunches of 
 carrots and turnips in the swiftly flowing water. 
 
 OLD HOUSES, UOI., 
 
 The legend of St. Christopher goes back to the 
 days before this bridge was built. 
 
 SL 
 
 of &t, 
 
 " Christopher the strong-shouldered " was in great 
 request as a ferryman, and at the time I write of he 
 kept the ford ol the river, and carried many burdens 
 over it.
 
 FROM NORMANDY AND BRITTANY. 185 
 
 One fine day, the legend says, our Blessed Lord 
 arrived at the ford with his twelve apostles. Christo- 
 pher took first our Lord and then each of his followers, 
 one alter another, in his gigantic arms, and carried them 
 across to the farther bank of the river. 
 
 Our Lord bade Christopher name his reward. 
 
 St. Peter came up and whispered softly in his ear, 
 " Ask for Paradise, and you will be happy." 
 
 " Mind your own business," said Christopher in a 
 surly tone ; then to our Lord he said reverently, " As 
 you offer me a gift, O Lord, I ask that whatsoever I 
 wish for may come into my sack." 
 
 Our Lord consented ; but he told Christopher never 
 to wish for money, or for anything he did not really 
 need. 
 
 Time went on. Christopher kept to his bargain, 
 and the sack was only filled with bread, fruit, and 
 vegetables, and, be it said in justice to the ferryman, it 
 was frequently emptied to give to the poor. But after 
 a while Christopher fell into temptation. 
 
 It happened one day that as he was passing along 
 the main street of Dol, he stopped before the shop of 
 a money-changer, where piles of gold and silver coin 
 were arranged in little heaps. 
 
 Now Christopher sinned in gazing at the money,
 
 1 86 PICTURES AND LEGENDS 
 
 for it is a step towards covetousness to gaze on that 
 which we are forbidden. Eve, you know, looked at 
 the apple before she touched it. The Evil One was 
 close at hand, and he began to whisper in Christopher's 
 ear, " See here, my fine fellow, think how much 
 good you may do to others with all this gold and 
 silver ; why, you can build houses for the poor, and 
 clothe them and feed them besides ; think of that, my 
 friend. Now you have only to wish, and the money is 
 yours." 
 
 The idea was too tempting to resist ; Christopher 
 wished, and lo ! there was the money in his sack. You 
 must remember that, though he was good, he was only 
 a man after all, he was not even a saint in those days. 
 
 As might have been expected, this first yielding to 
 temptation was followed by other yieldings, and though 
 he was liberal he did not spend on the poor all the 
 money that had come into his sack. 
 
 One day he had eaten a luxurious dinner, and had 
 lain down on the grass to rest in the shade. 
 
 Presently who should pass by but the Evil One, who 
 began to mock and gibe at Christopher. 
 
 The giant was not of a patient disposition, and 
 before long he and the mocking fiend were fighting out 
 their dispute ; their strength was so fairly matched that
 
 FROM NORMANDY AND BRITTANY. 187 
 
 the battle lasted two days without any chance of a 
 victory on either side. The thick grass was worn away, 
 and the ground dinted by the pressure of their feet, and 
 the blows they dealt one another sounded like repeated 
 hammer-strokes, and were heard from afar. 
 
 They might indeed be fighting still if a lucky 
 thought had not come to Christopher. 
 
 "Ah, cursed one!" he exclaimed, "in the name 
 of the most Holy, get into my sack." 
 
 No sooner said than behold the Evil One is in the 
 sack, and Christopher, tying the string round its mouth, 
 throws it over his shoulders. 
 
 But now what shall he do with the prisoner ? 
 
 Going along the road he comes to a smithy where 
 a blacksmith and two brawny assistants are beating out 
 red-hot iron. 
 
 " Happy thought," says Christopher to himself ; to 
 the blacksmith he says 
 
 " See here, neighbour, I carry a dangerous beast in 
 this sack, he has done all sorts of mischief ; if you will 
 undertake to hammer him as thin as a penny piece, I 
 will give you a crown." 
 
 "A bargain," cries the blacksmith, and he and 
 Christopher clasp palms upon it. 
 
 The blacksmith and his men hoist the sack on to
 
 188 PICTURES AND LEGENDS 
 
 the anvil, and, spite of the howls and contortions of its 
 inmate, they hammer at him all through the night. 
 
 At length, when day begins to break, a feeble voice 
 comes from the sack. 
 
 " Christopher, Christopher, I give in, I am beaten ; 
 on what terms will you let me out ?" 
 
 " You must swear to obey me whenever I require 
 you to do so, and leave me in peace for evermore 
 
 " I swear," says the feeble voice. 
 
 " Depart," says Christopher, " and may I never more 
 behold thee." 
 
 From this time Christopher's whole life changed. 
 He gave himself up to good works, and when his 
 strength failed him, so that he could no longer perform 
 his duty at the ford, he took refuge in a little cell, on 
 the ruins of which were built a church dedicated to St. 
 Christopher. He lived many years in his cell, given up 
 to prayer and penance, his saintly reputation causing 
 the hermitage to be the resort of numerous pilgrims. 
 
 Notwithstanding all this, when, after his death, St. 
 Christopher presented himself at the gates of Paradise, 
 St. Peter, remembering how his advice had been slighted, 
 refused Christopher admittance. 
 
 The poor saint went sadly away, hanging his head,
 
 FROM NORM A ND Y A ND BRITTA N Y. 1 89 
 
 and, not taking any heed where he trod, he went by 
 mistake down the broad steps of hell. 
 
 He went down and down a great many steps, and 
 came at last to a door kept by a pleasant-looking youth. 
 
 " Come in, I pray you," said the youth. 
 
 Christopher was stepping across the threshold when 
 his old adversary, who stood just within, perceived him. 
 
 " No, no !" he cried, " we will have none of him. I 
 know who he is ; turn him out ; he is more than a match 
 for me." 
 
 So poor Christopher was forced to go up again, 
 and once more he found himself at the gates of 
 Paradise. Strains of lovely music came from within, and 
 the saint sought more than ever to enter and be with 
 the blessed. 
 
 He went close up to the gates. " My Lord Peter," 
 he said, " what wondrous music you have inside your 
 gates I pray you of your charity to leave them ajar, so 
 that a poor outsider may enjoy these exquisite sounds." 
 
 Saint Peter's tender heart was touched, he opened 
 the gate a few inches. Christopher dexterously flings 
 his sack inside the gates, and, following it, he seats him- 
 self thereon. 
 
 " I am on my own ground now," he says ; " you 
 cannot turn me out."
 
 1 90 PICTURES AND LEGENDS 
 
 And Saint Christopher has stayed in heaven ever 
 since. Surely his repentance has earned him a good 
 place there. 
 
 The following is another quaint legend of Dol : 
 
 (Lflloman'0 Ccto* 
 
 ONCE upon a time St. Peter and St. John were taking a 
 journey through Brittany. They visited every house they 
 came near, rich as well as poor ; they preached in the 
 churches and chapels of the towns they passed 
 through, and sometimes they preached in the market- 
 place in the presence of all the townsfolk. 
 
 One spring day they climbed a long and steep hill. 
 The sun was hot, and they were thirsty, and there was 
 not a drop of water to be seen. St. Peter was the 
 most sanguine nature of the two. " We shall find a 
 house on the top of the hill," he said. 
 
 When they reached the top they saw a farm-house 
 sheltered among some trees. 
 
 i% Let us go in and ask for some water here," said 
 Saint Peter, and in they went. 
 
 A little old woman sat beside the hearthstone, and 
 not far off a little child lay sucking a goat.
 
 FROM NORMANDY AND BRITTANY. 191 
 
 " Grandmother," said St. Peter, " will you be so kind 
 as to give us a little water?" 
 
 " Yes, surely, good gentlemen," she answered 
 readily. " I have plenty of water, good water too, but 
 I have nothing else in the world." 
 
 She filled a bowl with water from her pitcher and 
 gave it to the saints to drink. 
 
 They drank eagerly, and then they looked at the 
 sucking infant. 
 
 " That is not your child, grandmother," said St. Peter. 
 
 " No, surely not, but I love him as though he were 
 my own. My daughter died in giving him birth, and 
 I have to take care of him." 
 
 " Has he a father?" 
 
 " Oh yes, he has a father who goes out to work 
 every day at a gentleman's house not far off; he gets 
 his food and eight sous a day, and that is all we have 
 to live on. When my husband was alive things were 
 different ; he was a farmer, and we had cows and pigs, 
 but all are gone now." 
 
 " Suppose you had a cow now," said St. Peter. 
 
 " Ah ! indeed, good gentleman, suppose we had, we 
 should be happy enough. Though we have no longer 
 any land I could take the cow out and let it feed along 
 the roads, and we should have milk and butter to sell on
 
 192 PICTURES AND LEGENDS 
 
 market day. But what is the use of supposing ; I shall 
 never have a cow again." 
 
 "Never you mind, grandmother, lend me your stick 
 a minute," said St. Peter. 
 
 St. Peter took the old woman's stick and struck a 
 blow on the broad hearthstone, and behold, there was a 
 beautiful strawberry cow with udders full of milk. 
 
 "Holy Virgin!" exclaimed the old woman, "how- 
 ever did that cow get here ?" 
 
 " By the grace of God, grandmother ; it is for you." 
 
 " May the blessing of God rest on you, good 
 gentlemen. I will pray for you night and day." 
 
 " God be with you," said the saints ; and they went 
 on their way, leaving the old woman lost in wonder 
 as she gazed at her cow. 
 
 The cow gently lowed. 
 
 "What a fine creature!" she said, "and how full 
 she is of milk. I must milk her. But where can she 
 have come from ? Just from hitting a stick on the 
 hearth-stone ; nothing can be easier than that. Well, 
 here is my stick, and there's the hearth-stone. Ah, if 
 I had only just such another cow ! I wonder if I could 
 bring one by just hitting my stick on the stone." 
 
 No sooner said than done, and behold out sprang 
 an enormous wolf, which fastened on the cow and 
 killed her.
 
 FROM NORMANDY AND BRITTANY. 193 
 
 Out ran the old woman she hurried as fast as her 
 legs would carry her after the two saints. 
 
 " Gentlemen ! gentlemen ! " she cried, quite out of 
 breath. As the saints had walked slowly on account 
 of the heat they had not got very far ; they heard her 
 calling and waited till she came up. 
 
 "Whatever has happened, grandmother ?" said St. 
 Peter. 
 
 " Alas, gentlemen, my cow, my cow ! You had 
 hardly left me when in came a huge wolf and sprang 
 upon my beautiful strawberry cow." 
 
 " But what had you done first, good mother ?" said 
 St. John very gently. 
 
 " I I hit my stick on the hearth-stone," said the 
 old woman, hanging her head. 
 
 " The wolf came because you summoned it," said 
 St. Peter gravely. " Go back to your house, and you 
 will find your cow safe and sound. But, grandmother, 
 be wiser in future, and be content with what God sends 
 you." 
 
 Back went the old woman to her house, and found 
 her cow safe and well, lowing softly for she wanted to 
 be milked ; and then the dame understood that God's 
 saints had visited her.
 
 194 PICTURES AND LEGENDS 
 
 Cljateau 
 
 A VERY short railway journey from Dol brought us to 
 the small but picturesque town of Combourg. It has 
 an old-world aspect, as the greater part of the houses 
 are of the sixteenth century. 
 
 But the most interesting building there is the 
 castle, in which Chateaubriand, the famous author, 
 spent some of his boyhood the castle still belongs to 
 his family and his chamber is preserved in the state 
 it was in when he lived at Combourg. It is in one of 
 the towers, and hither has been brought the simple 
 furniture which was in his room at Paris during the 
 latter part of his life. A small iron bedstead, an 
 ordinary wooden table, an iron inkstand, an iron cruci- 
 fix, and an iron holy water stoup. Chateaubriand gives 
 a too highly-coloured picture of his home in his 
 Memoires. He calls it an immense castle, which would 
 accommodate with ease IOO knights and their attend- 
 ants ; a third of this number would be more like the 
 truth. 
 
 The castle, dating from the fifteenth century, is a 
 square building flanked by four large machicolated 
 towers ; that at the north-east angle is higher than the
 
 FROM NORMANDY AND BRITTANY. 195 
 
 others (Chateaubriand called it " tour de Maure"), and 
 it appears to belong to the fourteenth century. 
 
 The castle, with its many towers, with their conical 
 roofs rising above the surrounding trees and ancient 
 houses, is very picturesque. Chateau Combourg sug- 
 gested to the poet the lines beginning 
 
 " Combien j'ai douce souvenance 
 Du joli lieu de ma naissance." 
 
 Chateaubriand was really born in St. Malo, Rue des 
 Juifs, in the house which is now the Hotel de France. 
 From the window of the room the tomb of the 
 illustrious author can be seen standing alone on the 
 islet called Grand Bey. It was his own desire to be 
 buried in that lonely spot. The position of the tomb, 
 on the rocky verge of the islet overlooking the vast 
 expanse of ocean, is very impressive. 
 
 We were sorry to reach Vitre, for it was the last 
 interesting town in Brittany, and we felt that our holiday 
 was over. It is a wonderfully old-world town. Modern 
 improvements, which will doubtless soon set in in a 
 flood, are only beginning there. Its castle, its feudal 
 ramparts flanked by towers, its old houses which seem 
 to totter on their supporting pillars have a truly 
 mediaeval air. There is something inexpressibly
 
 196 PICTURES AND LEGENDS 
 
 pathetic about its aspect pathetic and grotesque also, 
 for it looks full of strange stories moss and lichen 
 thrive on its roofs and stonework ; it seems to be per- 
 petually moaning over its past. Though it is nearer 
 
 OLD SHOPS, V1TRE. 
 
 France than the utterly French city of Rennes, Vitre 
 is a true type of an old Breton town. Its streets are 
 narrow and twisting, and up and down, and badly 
 paved also ; the houses are some of wood, with often 
 quaintly carved beams, and some of stone ; in many
 
 FROM NORMANDY AND BRITTANY. 197 
 
 of them the upper story projects considerably, and is 
 supported on oaken pillars covered with slate. The 
 Rue Poterie is the quaintest and strangest of these 
 streets. Here one can go back to the middle ages ; 
 one fancies even that the open shops, shown in the 
 illustration, are scarcely changed from what they were 
 in the sixteenth century, or in the days of Madame 
 de Sevigne*. The chief inn in the town is called 
 Hotel de Sevign6, and here you see a suite of rooms 
 which Madame de Sevigne is said to have occupied ; 
 on the tiles of the flooring are various crests, which it 
 seems she had a fancy for collecting. In one of these 
 rooms is a secret sliding panel, with a recess behind it ; 
 here one fancies she may have kept secret papers, or 
 the letters of Pauline. 
 
 The castle is equally picturesque and interesting. 
 It was founded about the end of the eleventh century, 
 and rebuilt in the fourteenth and fifteenth ; the walls 
 are covered with slate. Standing on a hill it com- 
 mands the surrounding country, and must have been 
 a strong fortress. The initals of Guyonne, Countess of 
 Laval and Marquise de Nesle, occur frequently here, 
 in the monogram, G. L. N., on the entablature of the 
 charming little tourelle which she built here in 1560; 
 on each side are shields bearing the arms of France
 
 PICTURES AND LEGENDS 
 
 and of Laval, with' the motto, " Post tenebras spero 
 lucem." She was a Huguenot, and the inscription "is 
 supposed to be in allusion to the darkness of the old 
 religion as compared with the faith of the Reformers." 
 
 There is a very quaintly sculptured stone pulpit 
 outside the church of Notre Dame ; on this grotesque 
 figures of demons express, by face and gesture, great 
 dislike to the doctrines preached above them. 
 
 Les Rochers, the charming country-house from 
 which so many of Madame de Sevigne's letters are 
 dated, is within an easy drive of Vitre. Madame de 
 Sevigne's bedroom has been left untouched, there is 
 her bed of red and white silk falling to pieces with 
 age, and there is the escritoire on which her delight- 
 ful letters were written, her account-books still lie 
 on it Outside the drawing-room windows is a long 
 range of orange trees in tubs, and two of these are said 
 to have been planted by Madame de Sevigne herself.
 
 FROM NORMANDY AND BRITTANY. 199 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 AVRANCHES A BRACE OF CHARACTERS THE STORY OF THE 
 "PILGRIMAGE TO THE MOUNT." 
 
 WE had been spending some delightful weeks in Nor- 
 mandy, beginning at Etretat, and then journeying along 
 the sea-board, with its groups of watering-places, so 
 dear in August to tired Parisians, till we reached quiet 
 primitive Arromanches. We made a pleasant halt in 
 this newly built village, with its old world inhabitants 
 its magnificent sun-flowers making a foreground with 
 their immense bronze disks, to the masts and rigging of 
 the fishing-boats drawn up high and dry on the beach, 
 and the belt of blue sea beyond ; but we could not 
 linger long ; we were impatient to reach the real bourne 
 of our journey the wonderful Mont St. Michel. So 
 on we went from Bayeux, through lofty St. Lo, Cou- 
 tances, with its grand cathedral and charming gardens, 
 beautiful, dirty, and unsavoury Granville, till we found 
 ourselves at last at pretty, bright, sunshiny Avranches, so 
 exquisite in its position and surroundings and the view it 
 commands, and yet in itself so tame and uninteresting.
 
 200 PICTURES AND LEGENDS 
 
 We found the sparkling clean little place full of 
 bustle ; all the inns were crammed, and when we made 
 inquiry we learned that this concourse of visitors had 
 been caused "by the pilgrimage. 
 
 " What pilgrimage ? " we asked our voluble femme- 
 de-chambre, who, having once been a beauty, expected 
 a good deal of notice still from those she waited on. 
 
 "Comment!" she exclaimed, "is it possible that 
 Madame does not know of the great pilgrimage to 
 Mont S. Michel pilgrims come to it from all parts ; 
 what do I know from Jersey, Guernsey also from 
 England perhaps," she added, " if," with a sly look, 
 " there are any good Catholics in Madame's country." 
 
 We asked how long the pilgrimage would last. 
 
 " Oh, that depends ; three or four days if all the 
 pilgrims arrive in that time, but to-morrow is the 
 grand day ; ah, that will be a sight to see ; the Bishop of 
 Coutances himself will say a mass, and he will perform 
 the benediction service in the crypt of the Gros Piliers : 
 Madame knows that the black Virgin is there, and 
 that is why It is called the Chapel of Notre Dame- 
 sous-terre. Ah !" she put both hands suddenly to her 
 ears, and then extending her arms shook her fingers, "do 
 but hear the bells, Madame. Ah, Mon Dieu ! I must 
 run, if Madame will have the goodness to excuse me."
 
 I' ROM NORMANDY AND BRITTANY. 201 
 
 This news put us into a pleasant state of excite- 
 ment ; we should have preferred to see the Mount in 
 its weird lonely grandeur, still there was something 
 very fitting in the idea of a pilgrimage to Mont S. 
 Michel, and we determined to go there to-morrow. 
 
 We went to order a carriage in the town, but the 
 driver was out, and we were left in doubt, for it seemed 
 that every vehicle and every horse in Avranches was 
 going on pilgrimage next day. 
 
 We came in and dined at our comfortable, but not 
 too liberal, table d'hote, and then mounted to the bed- 
 room at the tip-top of the house, which our friend 
 Rosalie, the coquettish and communicative femme-de- 
 chambre, told us we were very lucky to get. 
 
 We had hardly seated ourselves when a knock 
 came at the door, and a strange man's voice inquired 
 if Monsieur and Madame les Anglais lived here. 
 
 This was our driver, a little crooked fellow with a 
 most comical face ; he seemed to be laughing at himself; 
 he began by asking just half as much again as he 
 meant to take, but we shook our heads ; he then 
 grumbled extremely at having to carry two people 
 with one horse, while we assured him we could not 
 think of paying the price he asked for two. 
 
 At last he stood still and scratched his head for
 
 202 PICTURES AND LEGENDS 
 
 some seconds without speaking then he shrugged his 
 shoulders and exhibited the palms of both hands. 
 
 " So be it," he said ; " I will take Monsieur's price. 
 The pilgrimage is like everything else it is not what 
 it was at first why, the last pilgrimage to Mont St. 
 Michel, ah, Mon Dieu !" up went his shoulders again 
 " that, if you please, was something like. At Pon- 
 torson, there were not beds enough to lie on ; the pilgrims 
 slept in sheds on pavements anywhere. I drove a 
 cart full of pilgrims across the sands; ah, yes! 1 
 remember there was a story told of one of them next 
 day, poor soul." 
 
 " Can you tell us the story ?" 
 
 He shrugged his shoulders at our eagerness, and 
 shook his head. 
 
 " I knew it, bah !" he began to think, screwing up 
 his little eyes, and making his comic face so absurd that 
 we could scarcely keep serious. 
 
 " I knew it." he repeated then he slapped his leg 
 joyfully. " Ma foi, my wife knows every word of it, 
 she never forgets a story, and if Madame likes I will 
 go home and listen, and then to-morrow I shall be able 
 to tell it as glibly as any old chatterer in the country.'' 
 
 And next day he certainly whiled away part of 
 the long drive from Avranches by telling us the story 
 of the " Pilgrimage to the Mount."
 
 FROM NORMANDY AND BRITTANY. 
 
 Si ^ilffcimap to t&e 
 PART I. 
 
 MOTHER AND SON. 
 
 IT is Michaelmas, and the streets of a gray old cathe- 
 dral city in France are busy with the tread of feet and 
 the buzz of voices as the inhabitants take their way to 
 High Mass some to the cathedral and some to the 
 numerous old churches of the town. Overhead the 
 weather is fine ; there are only a few snowy wool-like 
 clouds, but these are so bright, and they keep their 
 places so firmly on the blue vault above, that there is 
 no fear of rain. A crisp wind scatters the dust briskly 
 along the Boulevards, and whirls the yellow leaves off as 
 if the year were a month older. There is a sighing 
 movement, too, every now and then, among these trees, 
 which seems to tell that the leaves are conscious that 
 the best part of their life is spent, that old age, with 
 feeble heart-beats and sapless limbs, is near, and death 
 treading on its heels. 
 
 The Boulevard will be full enough this afternoon, 
 but no one stays there now. Every one is going to 
 Mass, though it is yet early ; but to get a seat in the 
 cathedral one must be early to-day, for Monseigneur
 
 PICTURES AND LEGENDS 
 
 the Archbishop is going to preach ; so the little square 
 outside the splendid hoary building is full of towns- 
 people. 
 
 TORCH OF CATHEDRAL, CHARTRES. 
 
 The small houses which face the cathedral are very 
 near it so near it that they are always in a cool grey 
 shadow. The door of one of the smallest of these 
 houses stands open, and shows inside a dark narrow
 
 f 
 FROM NORMANDY AND BRITTANY. 205 
 
 passage, with a black door on one side, and a staircase 
 beyond. A small slender woman stands at the foot of 
 the staircase ; she has a young slight figure, and she is 
 dressed with much simplicity and neatness. Just now 
 her snowy capped head is thrown back on her shoulders, 
 as she stands calling to some one overhead : 
 
 " Eustache, my child, come quickly, or you will be 
 too late." 
 
 " I come, my mother," is answered in such a sweet 
 silver treble that it takes one by surprise, a surprise 
 which anticipates the sweet boyish face of the golden- 
 haired child who comes carefully downstairs, not taking 
 half a flight at a jump, as would seem better suited to 
 his age, but with an enforced quietude that does not 
 belong to his bright eyes and expressive features. He 
 holds up one slight finger at his mother, and makes a 
 slight sound with his mouth ; then he takes her hand 
 and draws her quietly to the entrance door. She has 
 so sweet a face, but yet she is not like her child, not 
 even when she smiles down into his dark eyes. His 
 face is square both at brow and chin, and one feels by 
 instinct that though those dark eyes may always be 
 sweet in expression, yet there is a promise of intellect 
 in them which will make him yet more unlike his 
 mother ; for hers is a flower-like face, a delicate skin
 
 206 PICTURES AND LEGENDS 
 
 with a tinge of pink colour, yet touched with the soft 
 melancholy of a Madonna oval in its outline, with 
 small and regular, not insignificant, features, and eyes 
 of the palest blue ; these eyes glisten, and the glow 
 blooms brightly on her cheeks as she listens to her boy. 
 
 He speaks eagerly now that he has reached the 
 outside door. 
 
 " Never fear, little mother," he pats her hand 
 fondly between both his own ; " I shall be as punctual 
 as the rest. I said ' Hush just now because of Julie ; 
 but indeed she is better to-day ; and when I told her 
 I had warmed the soup myself, she said it was twice as 
 good, and now she is sleepy, mother ; and when I pat 
 her shoulder softly, she shuts her eyes and opens her 
 mouth, yes, yes " he screws up his own rosy mouth 
 importantly "Julie will sleep and she will get well. 
 Aliens, I must go to church :" then stopping suddenly, 
 he looks up with a grave face : " Mother," he says, 
 "how enormous is the mouth of Julie !" 
 
 A little later his mother watches him as he walks 
 in procession, the fairest of the choir children, his lovely 
 treble notes ringing through the lofty aisles of the 
 cathedral. He does not see her as she kneels behind 
 one of the massive piers, and gazes with tenderest love 
 on his rapt face while he sings.
 
 FROM NORMANDY AND BRITTANY. 207 
 
 How fervently she prays for her Eustache, he has 
 elected to become a doctor ; for, child as he is, he so 
 loves to tend the sick, and his mother prays that the 
 studies he will have to follow if he adopts this voca- 
 tion may not harden his heart. She prays, too, and 
 all unconsciously tears stream over her sweet face 
 that he may never lose his love and reverence for holy 
 things and holy places, a love which she has taught him 
 by word and deed. " Oh my God," she prays, " spare 
 me such bitter pain as this." 
 
 For to Marie Texier's simplicity it seems that the 
 worst trial she could be called on to suffer would be to 
 see her Eustache's love and faith grow coki 
 
 " If he forgot to worship, it would be worse than 
 losing Jean Baptiste over again," she thinks. Jean 
 Baptiste was the tenderly-loved husband of her youth, 
 who died when Eustache was but five years old, so she 
 prays with all her strength for this dearly-loved child. 
 
 But service is over now, and she hurries home to 
 get his meal ready for Eustache. 
 
 She has quite a little feast for him to-day. Soup 
 and some mussels, pieds de cochon and radishes, 
 daintily arranged on a fine white tablecloth. 
 
 Eustache soon comes out of church, and flies across 
 the street, his dark eyes glowing with delight.
 
 208 PICTURES AND LEGENDS 
 
 He kisses his mother, and then says grace reve- 
 rently, and sits down and eats his soup in hungry 
 silence, but when he gets to his second mussel he 
 pauses, and looks anxiously across the table. 
 
 " Mother, what do you think ? Father Clery has 
 said that my voice is a good one." 
 
 Madame Texier smiles. 
 
 " Yes, yes, my child ; your voice is true and sweet, 
 but," she adds humbly, " I am thankful that the good 
 father should think so." 
 
 Eustache gives his mother a long yearning look, 
 and then he goes on eating his mussels. 
 
 His young mind is burdened with a new idea, and 
 it is too large a one for him to carry alone. He would 
 share it with Madame le Camac upstairs if it were 
 less important, but it seems to him a kind of treason 
 against his sweet mother to confide it to other ears 
 than hers. And yet, young as he is, he knows some- 
 thing of the love his mother has for him, and he feels 
 that this new idea will somehow prove distasteful to 
 her; but he knows and feels these things dimly, he has 
 only instinct to guide him, poor little bright-haired 
 Eustache. 
 
 But his mother is watching him ; her love is too all- 
 absorbing: not to be alive to the slightest change in her
 
 FROM NORMANDY AND BRITTANY. 209 
 
 darling. Eustache is not a chattering child, but he is 
 always full of life, and especially on a holiday; he has 
 always a plan for the happiest way of spending it. 
 
 Marie Texier watches him as he goes on eating 
 in silence, and as he draws his thick dark eyebrows 
 together and looks down in his plate, she grows more 
 and more sure that something troubles her darling. 
 
 She is too reserved and timid to ask him at once 
 what ails him ; the question would come more easily 
 if Eustache were near her, and she could put her arm 
 round him and draw his fair head close to hers ; but 
 the table is between them, and the boy dqes not look 
 at her. 
 
 All at once he lifts his head. He has not noticed 
 his mother's unusual silence, he has been far too 
 deeply occupied with his own reverie. 
 
 " Mother," he says abruptly, " Is your heart set on 
 making me a doctor ?" He gives a sigh of relief at this 
 beginning. 
 
 Marie Texier's soft eyes open with surprise. 
 
 "It is not I," she says gently, "who chose that 
 state of life for you you said you should like it, my 
 child if you wish for a quieter life perhaps a post 
 may be found for you in the library." 
 
 Madame Texier's husband had been one of the 
 
 P
 
 210 PICTURES AND LEGENDS 
 
 public librarians, and to her this was the best of all 
 employments. 
 
 Eustache shakes his head, he is a little vexed with 
 his mother, it seems to him that she ought to be able 
 to guess his wishes. 
 
 At last, he bursts out abruptly. 
 
 " Father Cle"ry says my voice is a great gift, and 
 he says a gift should be for God's service." 
 
 Madame Texier looks puzzled. 
 
 " Your voice is good now, my child ; but who 
 knows. Voices change, and sometimes never come back. 
 Do you mean that Father Clery wishes you, when you 
 are old enough, to become one of the singers of the 
 cathedral ? Well, then, you may be a singer, and you 
 may earn your living some other way too, my darling." 
 
 Eustache shakes his head. 
 
 ' No, no, little mother, I would not be one of the 
 singers if I could, they they are not good ; they are 
 dirty, rough, and noisy ; but never mind them little 
 mother ; Father Clery means something else." 
 
 Marie Texier gives a little start ; she understands 
 now, and she turns so pale, that if Eustache were less 
 intent on his idea he would think she was ill. As it 
 is, he feels dimly that what he has to say must give 
 her pain, and he gets off his chair and comes and 
 stands beside her.
 
 FROM NORMANDY AND BRITTANY. 211 
 
 " Well, little mother," he says rather impatiently, 
 "you do not ask any questions?" 
 
 " I am listening," and she puts her hand softly to 
 her heart as if she felt some pain there. 
 
 But Eustache has got too eager to notice anything. 
 
 " Father Clery says," he speaks very earnestly, 
 " that we should give our lives up to God's service ; 
 and he said just now, 'You can give a great gift to 
 Him, Eustache ;' and I said, 'What, Father ?' and he said, 
 'You can give your voice;' and then he said, listen 
 little mother ;" for Marie covers her white face with 
 one trembling hand. "' You should go to the seminary, 
 Eustache, and when you are made a priest, you can 
 come back here again and be close to your mother,' so 
 you see, darling mother, you could listen to me every 
 day." 
 
 But Marie does not hear the last words ; she feels 
 a sudden spasm of pain, and then she falls back so 
 white and rigid that Eustache is terrified out of his 
 self-absorption. 
 
 "Julie," he cries in terror, "Julie, come quickly," 
 but no one comes ; and while he stands panic-stricken 
 gazing at the blanched face and lifeless attitude, he 
 remembers that Julie le Camac lies ill in bed upstairs. 
 
 And then the child's self-reliant nature asserts
 
 212 PICTURES AND LEGENDS 
 
 itself. He dares not move his mother, for he knows 
 her weight would overbalance him ; but he snatches up 
 a glass of water and sprinkles some in her face ; and 
 then he runs into the print-shop next door and asks 
 Monsieur Sanson, the pompous printseller, to go quickly 
 for the doctor. 
 
 " My mother is very ill, Monsieur Sanson," he says 
 gravely, " and you will do anything for my mother, 
 will you not, neighbour?" 
 
 " Yes, yes, my child, I fly tell your dear mother 
 I am gone." 
 
 And Monsieur Sanson, who has an ardent wish to 
 become the stepfather of Eustache, runs off, as fast as 
 his dignity will suffer him, to do the boy's bidding, 
 while Eustache goes back to his mother. 
 
 PART II. 
 
 MADAME LE CAMAC. 
 
 THE cathedral clock has just struck. One Two Three 
 Four, sound loud and deep in the afternoon stillness ; 
 loud and deep enough, one would think, to wake ever}' 
 sleeper in the town for surely the town itself has 
 gone to sleep in the intensity of this July sunshine.
 
 FROM NORMANDY AND BRITTANY. 213 
 
 There is not a sound in the great deserted market- 
 place. The three inns there show no signs of life, they 
 keep a mysterious stillness behind their green wooden 
 blinds. 
 
 There comes presently, at a leisurely pace, across 
 the grass-grown stones of the Place a tall stout priest, 
 his black robes swinging as he walks along. 
 
 His face is broad and kindly, red enough just now 
 under the blazing sunshine ; for the big blue umbrella 
 he carries is ,of too coarse a stuff to afford effectual 
 shelter, the light comes through it and purples his hot 
 cheeks and broad good-tempered nose. 
 
 When he reaches the farther side of the great open 
 space he gives a sigh of relief, and turning to the right 
 finds his way up two or three narrow streets to the 
 quiet precincts of the cathedral. 
 
 The stately pile is built on the summit of a steep 
 hill, and its spires look down on the valley of the river, 
 and over the monotonous far-stretching plain beyond. 
 
 The gray magnificence of architecture and sculp- 
 tured stone and painted glass is closely girt with 
 houses, so that it is difficult to get far enough away to 
 observe it as a whole. But Father Clery is too well 
 acquainted with the beautiful green gray pile to stand 
 considering the relative excellences of the spires, or the
 
 214 PICTURES AND LEGENDS 
 
 grandeur of the colossal porches, and the perfect carv 
 ing of some of the eighteen hundred statues which adorn 
 the building. 
 
 He stops before one of the small houses facing the 
 church, and knocks at the low door. 
 
 The door remains closed, but Father Clery is not 
 impatient ; the deep cool shadow is delightful, for these 
 small houses are so close to the cathedral that the sun 
 never reaches the green paving-stones. It is pleasant to 
 stand and wipe his hot face with a huge orange pocket- 
 handkerchief the only bit of colour besides his own 
 face and hands in the old gray close. 
 
 The door is opening now, and a little slender 
 woman stands curtseying to Father Cle*ry. She is very 
 small and frail-looking, with a delicate pearl-like face, 
 that tells of faded beauty and of much present sweetness. 
 Her eyes have been blue they are pale and clear now 
 and the oval face is narrow, and the rounded chin is 
 much more pointed than it was when we saw her years 
 ago, but much beauty lingers still in the fine clear skin 
 and the small expressive mouth, and above all in the 
 sweet trustful expression that wins hearts at once to 
 Marie Texier. That expression glows now in the 
 bright smile with which she greets her visitor. 
 
 " Well, my good friend," he says, " and how are
 
 FROM NORMANDY AND BRITTANY. 215 
 
 you ? better ah, that's right ; now having got better, 
 you must keep better no more fainting-fits we can't 
 have those, you know;" he smiles, but Marie looks 
 sorrowful. 
 
 " I am very sorry, Father, but I did not know what 
 I did. I was saying my rosary kneeling in my 
 place and then on a sudden comes a mist, and then I 
 find myself in the porch, and Madame le Camac throws 
 water in my face " but a look of shame reddens her 
 face " pardon me, Father, I keep you standing while I 
 chatter about myself." 
 
 The priest smiles. 
 
 " It is not often you speak of yourself. I came 
 to-day to bring you news of our boy" in an instant 
 her eyes have grown dark as the pupils dilate with 
 expectation " He is settled now," the priest goes on, 
 " he is going to Mont St. Michel in Normandy as soon 
 as there is a vacancy in the community." 
 
 The little frail woman grows white in an instant. 
 
 " Mont St. Michel, Father. Is it not a prison for 
 rogues and vagabonds, a place cut off from life, far away 
 by the sea ?" her eyes fix wistfully on the priest. 
 
 He shrugs his shoulders. 
 
 " Of course," he speaks half to himself, " how 
 should you know any better ; a good Catholic like you
 
 2ib PICTURES AND LEGENDS 
 
 does not read the newspapers ;" then smiling down 
 into her anxious eyes " the prison, my daughter, was 
 emptied some years ago ; the prisoners were set free, 
 and the Bishop of Coutances has established a com- 
 munity of priests in the desecrated monastery. I hear 
 that much has already been done to restore and beautify 
 the church. It is a wonderful place," he says reverently, 
 "founded by the holy Archangel himself, as you may 
 read in the sacred legend." 
 
 " Yes, Father," but Madame Texier sighs. " Is it 
 more than a hundred kilometres away?" 
 
 "Bah! it is more likely four hundred kilometres 
 away, Marie; but courage, my daughter," for her eyelids 
 droop, and he sees the lashes quiver as if she strove to 
 keep back tears. 
 
 " The railway goes as far as Pontorson now, and 
 Pontorson is only a short journey from the Mount a 
 walk over the sands at low tide. We shall see Eustache 
 here one of these fine days, and he will have stories 
 enough to tell you of the wonders of the Mount. 
 There's no such place in the whole world, Marie ; a 
 rock-convent rock within and rock without ! why, in 
 the very bowels of the hard stone there is a chapel with 
 a statue of our Lady as black as the blessed Image 
 yonder," he looks over his shoulder at the cathedral.
 
 FROM NORMANDY AND BRITTANY. 217 
 
 " Well, well, take care of yourself, and remember, my 
 daughter, that it is an honour to belong to such a 
 wondrous place as Mont St. Michel. Good-day." 
 
 He nodded, and then bustled on till he turned 
 out of sight in the direction of the archbishop's palace. 
 
 Madame Texier stood looking after him. She had 
 not yet recovered from the shock of his tidings, and she 
 was, for the time, unconscious of time and place ; pre- 
 sently she sighed heavily, and went back into her neat 
 room. The pale green panelled walls were very bare ; 
 but on one side of the mirror over the fireplace was the 
 photograph of a man of middle age, on the other that 
 of a youth of eighteen, so alike that they might have 
 passed for portraits of the same person there was in 
 both the same firm mouth, and the same strength and 
 earnestness of expression. The older portraijt repre- 
 sented Madame Texier's husband, and the youth was 
 her son, the priest Eustache. 
 
 Marie Texier and her husband had loved one 
 another with that true love which death does not 
 end. When her husband died she was still young and 
 pretty, and had a little competence, enough to spare 
 her the need of working for others, and more than one 
 of her fellow-townsmen had urged her to take a second 
 husband. The printseller, Mr. Sanson, had been very
 
 218 PICTURES AND LEGENDS 
 
 importunate ; but they all got the same answer, "Jean 
 Baptiste has gone from our sight yes but he is not 
 dead to me ; how could I have two husbands ?" 
 
 She was resigned to the loss of this dear friend and 
 companion, but she had never been able to resign 
 herself to one act of her life. She could never tell 
 how she had brought herself to consent that Eu^tache 
 should enter the priesthood and leave her thus desolate. 
 
 " Mother," the boy said, "I will come back one day ; 
 I will say masses in the cathedral ; I shall be close at 
 hand to give you the last offices." And in the fervour 
 caught from his young devout earnestness Marie had 
 felt capable of any sacrifice ; the parting would not be 
 for long, and then afterwards there would be Eustache 
 always close by a guide and counsellor as well as a 
 son. It might be that the reverence and clinging trust 
 she had had for her husband's judgment had transferred 
 themselves to Eustache as he grew each day more and 
 more like his dead father. 
 
 And now she sits down in her wooden chair, and 
 thinks how Quixotic and unreal all this seems ; oh, 
 how lonely life is ! and how far distant this island 
 convent! Instinctively she puts her slender hand over 
 her eyes, and finds it wet with tears. 
 
 Marie Texier draws her hand away as if a wasp 
 had stung it.
 
 FROM NORMANDY AND BRITTANY. 219 
 
 " Holy Virgin, what am I doing ? repenting my 
 offering, grudging thee the gift I gave ? No, I do not 
 grudge my boy my Eustache," and at the name come 
 thronging memories of a rosy baby, of a wee toddler 
 clinging to her skirts, of a bright-eyed acolyte singing 
 with silver treble notes in the choir of the grand old 
 cathedral, last of the pious thoughtful student who, 
 till he went to Bon Secours, used to come over from 
 r"aris to spend his holidays with her. Her heart swells 
 painfully, and tears brim over and fall on the hands 
 that lie clasped in her lap. 
 
 She looks up and smiles, " It is not wrong," she 
 says, "so long as I do not murmur. God permits 
 these tears, or why did He put it in my heart to love 
 my boy so dearly ?" and again her tears fall plentifully. 
 
 There is a heavy step on the stairs ; Madame 
 Texier rises and goes to a tall bureau which faces the 
 front window. She takes a pocket handkerchief from 
 one of the drawers and wipes her eyes hastily, for the 
 footsteps have reached the lowest stair, and the handle 
 of the door is turning. 
 
 There comes in a broad bulky woman garbed in a 
 succession of dark fully plaited woollen skirts, that 
 make her look nearly as broad as she is high. 
 Across a loosely-fitting calico body she wears a brown
 
 220 PICTURES AND LEGENDS 
 
 shawl, its two ends fastened at the back of her waist. 
 Her cap has nothing distinctive about it; it is much 
 like that of Madame Texier, the cap so frequently 
 seen in France on the head of a middle-aged woman of 
 the shopkeeping class muslin with a close full border 
 round her face, fasteneck^beneath the 'chin by strings 
 of purple ribbon. But the face within the cap-border ! 
 that indeed is quite another sort of face from Marie 
 Texier's. Large and square, and coarse and dark ; 
 the nose is square - topped and projects, so that it 
 looks like a right angle of flesh set in the midst of 
 this unlovely countenance. The mouth is enor- 
 mously wide and lipless, but there are good strong 
 yellow teeth within it. No vestige of hair shows 
 below the cap, though there is enough on the broad 
 chin to call for a razor ; the eyebrows are only faintly 
 indicated, but the eyes though small, are dark and full 
 of kindness. And yet when Julie le Camac smiles you 
 forget her ugliness, you only say to yourself, " Here is a 
 woman with a heart in her bosom." 
 
 She stands an instant in the open doorway, taking 
 in the meaning of Marie Texier's attitude ; then she 
 turns her eyes slowly and heavily to the portrait of 
 Jean Baptiste Texier, and shaking her head, her mouth 
 seems to fall open, so listless and inactive is its ex- 
 pression.
 
 FROM NORMANDY AND BRITTANY. 221 
 
 " Holy Virgin," she says, " has she then gone back 
 to weeping?" Julie's shoulders move uneasily. "She 
 who has taught me by her example that I may not 
 weep ; no, it is not that either." Her eyes .nove 
 across to the likeness of Eustache. 
 
 Marie Texier has taken her hands from her face, 
 she turns round and tries to smile at her visitor. 
 
 Julie shakes her shoulders in a heavy ungainly 
 fashion, more that of an elephant than of a woman. 
 
 "If you need your room, Marie, you should speak, 
 I never shrink from hearing a plain truth ;" there is 
 a blundering jocularity in the words, which tells that 
 they do not convey Julie's real meaning. 
 
 Madame Texier gazes at her friend with wondering 
 open eyes, she is still too much pre-occupied to look 
 below the surface. 
 
 " I need your room ? who says so ?" At this, 
 Julie puts first one short broad-fingered hand to her 
 waist, then the other, and bursts into a loud laugh. 
 
 " Ma foi, Marie, you are a daisy still ; you will 
 always be one my poor angel ; well, I won't laugh, 
 because you are not happy ; but if Julie can no longer 
 comfort and help you, then believe me, in all sincerity, 
 it is better for you, my friend, to live with some one 
 who can give you better help, and I have told you
 
 222 PICTURES AND LEGENDS 
 
 often you may well find a score better than such as I 
 am." 
 
 There is no hidden meaning in the words. 
 Julie's eyes are full of humble tender love as she 
 looks at her frail little friend. 
 
 Madame Texier smiles. " You are very good, 
 neighbour, but you cannot help me to-day. I have 
 heard news that weighs heavily. Eustache is not 
 coming here he is going farther even than Bon Secours 
 he is going to Mont St. Michel ; you have heard of 
 the place have you not ?" 
 
 Julie stands considering, then a smile breaks slowly 
 over the broad heavy face. 
 
 " Yes, I know it ; it is in a picture in the shop of 
 Mr. Sanson next door, but it is only a rock, with 
 a church on the top, and the sea all around. Eustache 
 cannot live there, it is impossible." 
 
 " Yes ! " and the mother tells Father Clery's news. 
 
 " And he told you all out at once you who have 
 been ill!" her shoulders touch her ears in scorn, but 
 she refrains from outward blame of the priest. 
 
 " Well," she says, when she has listened to the 
 end, "you are not to fret by yourself, Marie Texier; 
 when you feel tears coming you will come to the stair- 
 foot, and you will say, ' Hola there, Julie, I want to
 
 FROM NORMANDY AND BRITTANY, 223 
 
 cry ; come down and help me to cry ' why," a look of 
 surprise broadens over her face, " she is laughing at 
 me ; was there ever such a rainbow of a woman ? I 
 wager she will come, if I ask her, and help fresh stuff 
 my mattress; it is hard to do alone." 
 
 Madame Texier smiles, and the two friends go 
 upstairs together. 
 
 PART III. 
 
 THE PILGRIMAGE. 
 
 THERE is a flutter of bustle and excitement over the 
 gray, sleepy, old town, that seems to transform it. The 
 steep streets, winding up and down the side of the hill 
 so narrow that the quaint gabled top-stories almost 
 touch their opposite neighbours as they overhang the 
 lower part of the ancient stone houses, are thronged 
 with people all hurrying in one direction, and treading 
 down the grass which shows here and there among the 
 irregular round paving-stones. Follow these hurrying 
 folks and you will come to the pleasant tree-shaded 
 Boulevard on the western side of the town ; the Boule- 
 vard which circles the old quarter of the city, and divides 
 it and its picturesque moss-grown irregularities from the 
 modern town, in comparison so clean, so light, and so dull.
 
 224 PICTURES AND LEGENDS 
 
 Very near the pleasant tree-shaded promenade, so 
 dear to the town dwellers on Sundays and fete-days, is 
 the railway station, and as you get nearer the descent 
 leading to this you notice that many of the hurrying 
 men. women, and children of the throng in which you 
 find yourself carry a bundle or parcel, and in some 
 cases a more ambitious show of luggage in the shape of 
 basket and bag. Some of the old people are clearly 
 not travellers, their hands are empty, except that many 
 of them help their hobbling steps along with a stout 
 stick ; the faces of all, whether young or old, are full of 
 a pleasant excitement, and the buzz of tongues increases 
 as the groups cross the Boulevard and go down hill 
 to the railway station. 
 
 More than half the number, and these are chiefly 
 women, wear on their shoulders pinned to the jacket or 
 shawl a cross of scarlet cloth. 
 
 Father CleYy stands at the station gate and wel- 
 comes his fellow-travellers as they arrive and pass in 
 one by one. He is to take charge of the Pilgrimage 
 which has been preached for some weeks past at the 
 cathedral and the various churches. His face is full of 
 kindly sympathy with all, and there is a sparkle of 
 eagerness in his eyes, but a glisten comes into them, 
 and his smile is heartier yet, as two women, one small
 
 FROM NORMANDY AND BRITTANY. 225 
 
 and slender, and one as broad as she is long, come arm 
 and arm down the hill. Madame Texier's delicate face 
 has a rare glow of pleasure on it, and Madame le Camac's 
 dark eyes sparkle, but neither one or other wears the red 
 cross, and the priest smiles when he remarks its absence. 
 
 " Good-day," he says heartily, " you are welcome, 
 my daughters. Ah ! that is right, Julie, you carry the 
 basket, I see ; the strong must help the weak in this work- 
 a-day world ; but why have you not put on the badge, 
 my friends ? I cannot send in your names as pilgrims 
 without the badge ; to all intents and purposes you are 
 pilgrims, and yet you will not reap the benefit our 
 Holy Father offers to those who go on Pilgrimage to 
 the Mount. What say you, Marie ? even now it is not 
 too late ; Antoine " he nods his head towards the 
 young deacon who stands near him " has plenty of 
 crosses in his bag." 
 
 Madame Texier curtseys, but she shakes her head. 
 
 " I could not feel I was honest," she raises her clear 
 pale eves to the cure's Face, " for, Father, I had never 
 thought of going to the Mount if my Eustache had 
 stayed at Bon Secours. I am not going on Pilgrimage ; 
 I am going to see my boy once more, only once more, 
 Father, and then I will try to be content." 
 
 There was a quiver in her voice that seemed to 
 Q
 
 226 PICTURES AND LEGENDS 
 
 trouble Father Clery, he blew his nose rather noisily 
 before he spoke again. 
 
 "Well, and you, Julie," he said, "why should not 
 you wear the cross ? you, at any rate, have no son at 
 Mont St. Michel ; though, as to that," he turned to 
 Madame Texier, " I say to you as I said before, that 
 chances are against you. The Bishop will be there, all 
 the priests will be in attendance, and, besides, the place 
 will be so thronged with clergy from all parts of France 
 I may say Europe that it is more than doubtful 
 whether you find out Eustache in the time we are per- 
 mitted to remain." He turned sharply to Madame le 
 Camac, whose scanty eyebrows were doing their best 
 to express a frown ; " Well, Julie, what is your excuse 
 for not wearing the badge ?" 
 
 " There is no need for an excuse," one huge shoulder 
 went up awkwardly, and with her free hand she pinched 
 her apron like a shy child. " The good Father knows I 
 cannot leave Marie Texier ; if she stays I stay too, if 
 she goes I go, it is simple. I have no son at the 
 Mount the Father says ; well, but Marie has one there 
 it is all the same ha, ha." She laughed with awkward 
 relief, opening her mouth to such an alarming extent 
 that a stranger, waiting for the same train, drew back 
 aghast that any woman should look so hideous.
 
 FROM NORMANDY AND BRITTANY. 227 
 
 Father Clery smiled. 
 
 "Well," he said, "I think you are over scrupulous;" 
 then, as they went on to the waiting-room, he said to 
 the deacon, " I doubt if we have a couple of truer 
 pilgrims among us than those two ; there is no excite- 
 ment about them, and they will assist at all the offices 
 devoutly. Marie looks better already for the hope of 
 seeing her son." 
 
 Meanwhile Madame le Camac was of quite another 
 opinion. She knew how these two years of entire 
 separation had told on the poor little mother, and at 
 first she had tried to dissuade her from the long weari- 
 some journey for it would be sadly wearisome. Spite 
 of the early hour of starting, the pilgrims would not 
 reach Pontorson till evening probably too late to go on 
 to the Mount and it seemed to be uncertain whether 
 they would get lodging for the night even at Pontorson, 
 so many arrivals were expected. But Madame Texier's 
 firm though gentle pleading had prevailed, and Julie 
 had given her consent to the expedition. 
 
 " It shall go hard," she said to herself, " if I cannot 
 find a bundle of straw for her to lie on, and I'll under- 
 take to keep her warm." 
 
 But the brightness of her friend's eyes and the glow 
 on her cheeks this morning do not deceive Madame le
 
 228 PICTURES AND LEGENDS 
 
 Camac. She looks wistfully at Marie Texier as they 
 stand wedged in the crowd that more than fills the 
 salle d'attente, and, as the atmosphere grows hot and 
 dense Julie sees her look white and faint. 
 
 Just then the door opens, and Father Clery's tall 
 figure towers behind the little railway official, who pushes 
 in an addition to the closely packed crowd. Julie and 
 her companion are near the door, and Madame le Camac 
 manages to catch the father's eye as he looks smiling 
 over his flock. She points to Madame Texier and 
 opens her huge mouth in dismay. The salle is now so 
 full that it is not easy to open the door widely, but 
 Father Clery forces a way with his burly shoulders, and 
 the crowd makes a passage for him till he reaches the 
 two women in the corner. " Make way," he says, 
 " bring her into the air," and he leads the way through 
 the buffet to the platform. 
 
 Madame Texier draws a deep breath, and then she 
 gives a little frightened glance at Julie, and one full of 
 appeal to the priest. 
 
 " I give so much trouble," she says humbly, " and 
 it is quite my own fault if I roused myself I should 
 not be so silly." 
 
 As she speaks a tinge of colour blooms on her 
 cheeks and the priest smiles.
 
 FROM NORMANDY AND BRITTANY. 229 
 
 " That is right," he says, " you are getting better. 
 Get her a glass of water, Julie, and keep her walking 
 up and down, and she will soon be herself again." 
 
 Madame le Camac is slow-witted, and Father Clerks 
 quickness is more than she can follow. By the time 
 that she has linked his hopeful words to the faint glow 
 on Marie Texier's face, that glow has faded, and her 
 friend is as white and wan as she was in the hot waiting- 
 room. Madame le Camac's hairless eyebrows draw to- 
 gether thoughtfully, but she cannot find words to say 
 what she wants. At last, very abruptly so that the 
 words come like stones flung at a window " Come 
 away, Marie ; come, come ! " 
 
 Madame Texier starts, and looks round in surprise. 
 
 " Yes, come away, I have changed my mind ; we will 
 not go to Mont St. Michel." 
 
 Such a look of fervour and love comes into the 
 little widow's eyes. 
 
 " No, no, Julie, you shall not go of course you 
 shall not if you do not wish, but I must go, and " the 
 troubled look on the ugly uncouth face reveals Julie's 
 secret " my friend, I must go without you ; see then, 
 I hope it is not selfish, but what can I do ? my heart 
 is where my boy is, Julie " she stops and lays her 
 hand on her bosom " it draws and draws me to him 

 
 230 PICTURES AND LEGENDS . 
 
 there is more of my life already at the Mount than 
 there is in this poor little body." 
 
 She speaks with tender earnestness, for Julie looks 
 sulky; one shoulder is much higher than its fellow, and 
 Madame le Camac fingers the basket in a discontented 
 manner. 
 
 " I do not say it is selfish what do I know ; it is 
 perhaps suicide I am helping you to commit, widow 
 Texier." 
 
 Julie will not look at her friend ; her eyes are fixed 
 on a line of baggage trucks opposite. 
 
 Madame Texier smiles sadly. She knows that 
 Julie only calls her widow Texier when she is really 
 displeased. She puts her hand timidly on the big 
 square shoulder. 
 
 " Listen, kind friend. It is not only for myself it 
 is more," she looks round to see that no one is near, 
 " far more for my Eustache he does not say he pines 
 for me, my boy is too good to ask the slightest fatigue 
 or expense from his mother, but there is a longing 
 one can feel through words, a sadness that speaks 
 without complaint. Mon Dieu ! I hope it is not all 
 for myself; but indeed, my good Julie, I think the 
 sight of me will put a great joy into the heart of my 
 Eustache."
 
 FROM NORMANDY AND BRITTANY. 231 
 
 Her voice trembles, and Julie rubs her eyes roughly 
 with her hand. 
 
 " Well," she says harshly, " and when your visit is 
 paid, what then ? will it not be worse for you both to 
 part again ?" 
 
 Marie Texier smiles. 
 
 , " Who knows," she says brightly, " I may find a 
 lodging at the Mount," then, touched by the dismay 
 shown by the gaping mouth and widely-opened eyes, 
 " but why look on so far ; the day is enough to live 
 through, and we shall not reach Mont St. Michel to- 
 day, my good Julie." 
 
 PART IV. 
 
 OVER THE SANDS. 
 
 THE rain has fallen in torrents through the night ; it 
 has soaked through many of the half-roofed sheds in 
 which the tired pilgrims had been glad to lie down and 
 sleep when they reached Pontorson, so that they rise 
 up with wet garments. 
 
 Madame le Camac stands at the door of the cafe 
 where, thanks to Father Clery, she and Marie Texier have 
 found a lodging, and Julie congratulates herself that her 
 friend has been thus sheltered.
 
 232 PICTURES AND LEGENDS 
 
 The wind, too, has risen during the night, and it howls 
 dismally as it rushes through the old grey town to the 
 waste of far stretching sand, for it is neap-tide at the 
 Mount, and there is no fear of shifting sands to-day. 
 Still, Father Cle"ry has arranged that the pilgrims shall 
 start early, so that they may be in time for High 
 Mass, and may be able to return to Pontorson before 
 dark. The journey has already cost a large sum, and 
 they must go on foot to the Mount itself, walking in 
 Pilgrimage across the far-stretching waste of sand. 
 
 As the distance is six miles or so, a rough cart has 
 been secured for the weaker members of the flock, and 
 in this jolting springless vehicle Father Clery has found 
 a place for Marie Texier. 
 
 Madame le Camac cannot stay to help her friend in, 
 for the walking procession is. to start first, and the priest 
 and his colleagues find it hard work to place their 
 pilgrims in suitable order before they begin their journey 
 to the Mount. It is a dismal expedition ; the procession 
 leaves the old town and moves slowly on by the uneven 
 road towards the river till it reaches the borders of the 
 Greve. The dreary waste of sand stretches itself out in 
 weird vastness, and far away, mingled with the driving 
 mass of gray cloud, is the shadowy Mont St. Michel, its 
 outline blurred by the torrent of rain that still falls.
 
 FROM NORMANDY AND BRITTANY. 233 
 
 The cart in which Marie Texier rides has got along- 
 side of the other pilgrims, and Marie puts her hand over 
 her eyes so as to get a clearer view of the church 
 planted high among the clouds. 
 
 " My Eustache," she murmurs softly, " my dear boy, 
 thank God I shall see him at last." 
 
 How far off the Mount looks, and how impossible it 
 seems that there can be any dwellers on that shadowy 
 rock that looms out from the desolate waste of tawny 
 sand, and seems to mingle with the storm-clouds. On 
 the right, far away, crouching on the dull drab-coloured 
 sand, the huge dark rock Tombelaine looks like a lion 
 about to spring ; one might fancy him the storm-fiend 
 keeping watch over the howling wind and rising waves. 
 In the distance far behind is the Mount, right and left of 
 it the gray sea stretches far and wide. One of her fel- 
 low-pilgrims watches the wonder in Marie's gazing eyes. 
 
 " At the great tides," he says, " the waves roll up to 
 the very foot of the wall that surrounds Mont St. Michel, 
 and it is cut off completely from land." 
 
 Their fellow-pilgrim is an old man with flowing white 
 hair ; he has already visited the Mount, and he shakes 
 his head sadly, and points out to Marie a spot made 
 dangerous by the quicksands. A cross stands near it 
 telling of past woe. " But, indeed," the white-haired
 
 234 PICTURES AND LEGENDS 
 
 pilgrim says, " except at neap-tide, such as we have now, 
 when there is no fear of the return of the water, it is 
 very dangerous to cross the sands without a guide." 
 
 All at once the rain ceases, and suddenly, distinct 
 before them, as though a veil had suddenly lifted, is the 
 bourne of the Pilgrimage, the Mont St. Michel. A 
 glad cry passes along the band, and led by Father 
 Clery they chant a hymn in honour of the Holy 
 Archangel. 
 
 "Ah!" says the fellow-traveller, "once on a time 
 there was a golden statue of the saint on the summit of 
 the church ; now there is a weathercock." 
 
 "Are people often lost on the sands ?" 
 
 Marie shivers and draws her shawl closely round 
 her as she asks. 
 
 " Dame, no. There are seldom new-comers dwelling 
 at the Mount, and those who go from the continent do 
 not venture unwarily on the sands. One was lost not 
 long ago, however ; he was a priest." 
 
 Marie's hands tremble till her shawl almost slips 
 from them. "Was he young, monsieur?" she says. 
 " Did you hear where he came from ?" 
 
 " Not I." 
 
 Marie's lip quivers ; she says a prayer to herself. 
 If it should be so ! Eustache has not written to her
 
 FROM NORMANDY AND BRITTANY. 235 
 
 for many weeks, not even in answer to the letter in 
 which she announced her coming. But, no : she will 
 not listen to a vague fear. She will trust and hope, 
 and as the Mount comes nearer and more and more 
 distinct, hope and trust become easier. 
 
 The wind has been rising higher and higher, and 
 suddenly it swoops down in a whirling gust on the tired 
 band of travellers. The fellow-traveller cries out and 
 clutches at his hat ; he is too late, it has taken flight and 
 is sailing on the furious blast. The pilgrims scatter 
 over the sands, and struggle wildly against the gale, 
 while their hats fly like black ants into gray distance, 
 farther and farther away. 
 
 " Stop there ; halt, come back ! I command you." 
 Father Clery's hat has flown with the rest, and he runs 
 after it too, but soon he stops, very red and panting. 
 
 " It is useless, my friends," he cries ; " come back. 
 In our eagerness we shall lose the track, and plunge, for 
 aught I know, into some unsafe ground." Then he adds 
 with a laugh, " We may hope for an extra blessing on 
 bare-headed pilgrims." 
 
 And after some delay the Father gets his scattered 
 flock together again.
 
 236 PICTURES AND LEGENDS 
 
 PART IV. 
 
 AT THE MOUNT. 
 
 THERE are five hundred pilgrims in Mont St. Michel 
 to-day, without counting many visitors and tourists who 
 do not wear the red cross. The inns are full and over- 
 flowing, and up in the fortress abbey there are large 
 fires blazing on the enormous stone hearths of the 
 refectory, and cooking is going on as if the old monastic 
 hospitality were once more revived. Covers are laid on 
 the long wooden tables, and the tariff of prices is 
 moderate : but the viands do not look as tempting as 
 they do down at the Lion d'Or, near the entrance gate 
 of the rocky town. 
 
 There is a rare bustle at the Lion d'Or to-day. Its 
 low-roofed kitchen, into which you step down from the 
 street, has few windows, and as the entrance door is 
 small the kitchen is dark within. A young priest stands 
 at the door asking questions, and as he looks inside the 
 scene seems too picturesque for reality. Little by little 
 his eyes grow accustomed to the darkness, and he sees 
 more than one long table filled with pilgrims, eating, 
 drinking, laughing, joking, growing every moment noisier 
 and merrier, each wearing the scarlet cross.
 
 LA MERVEILLE, MONT ST.-MICHEL.
 
 FROM NORMANDY AND BRITTANY. 237 
 
 The young priest steps down into the rambling 
 black-beamed place, and scans curiously the faces of its 
 inmates, but a push on his arm disturbs his scrutiny. 
 
 He stands with his back to a large wood fire on the 
 open hearth, and as he looks round, a stout comely 
 woman pushes her way up to the burning logs. She is 
 clad in blue woollen, and her bare, plump, outstretched 
 arms carry a huge frying-pan full of broken eggs. 
 
 ' By your leave, my reverend," she says. " This is 
 the omelette for the company upstairs, and they must 
 not be kept waiting for it." 
 
 The young priest looks at the golden mass. There 
 must be, in the frying-pan, at least thirty eggs, he thinks. 
 There are, then, other pilgrims upstairs. And he climbs 
 the creaking steps which rise from the kitchen itself. 
 
 In the room upstairs are three tables full of guests, 
 but not one face that he seeks, and the priest comes 
 sadly downstairs again, just as the smoking golden 
 omelette is being carried up. The mistress gives it to 
 her deft waitress, and then she smiles at the priest. 
 
 " Well, monsieur," she says, " it is not well of the 
 fathers at the convent to be cheating us of our dues ; 
 you cannot cook you had better tend the sick. I hear 
 there was a poor woman taken ill this morning, and no 
 doctor could be got for her." 
 
 " A sick woman," he says eagerly. " I wish I had
 
 238 PICTURES AND LEGENDS 
 
 known. No, the doctor is absent ; he went to Avranches 
 this morning. Where is this sick woman ?" 
 
 " Ma foi I how can I know ? " she puts both hands 
 to her head " I remember nothing to-day but my 
 orders." She adds, laughing, " My husband there will 
 tell you ; he has nothing to do but to talk," she smiles 
 with a touch of sarcasm on her comely face, " nothing 
 but to sit there talking," she points to a table at the 
 back of the great rambling kitchen. Mine host, in a 
 brown holland blouse, sits here smoking a prodigious 
 pipe, with about six red-faced companions, also in blouses. 
 There is a great cider pitcher on the table, and, judging 
 by the faces of the host and his companions, it has 
 been emptied and refilled more than once. 
 
 As the priest approaches, the host looks up with a 
 sort of careless indifference. 
 
 " Can you tell me " the young man is disgusted 
 at what seems to him at such a time profane excess 
 " you, monsieur, I mean," this is said more sharply, for 
 the innkeeper has not even removed his pipe, " where the 
 sick pilgrim I hear of has been removed to ?" 
 
 The innkeeper lays down his long pipe and smiles. 
 
 " Dame !" he shrugs his shoulders ; " there is not 
 much amiss, she will do well enough. I was by when 
 she fainted at the gate here this forenoon, but just now
 
 FROM NORMANDY AND BRITTANY. 239 
 
 Andre said he saw her in the procession with the rest 
 of the Chartres pilgrims waiting for the Bishop." 
 
 " Chartres pilgrims, did you say ?" The young priest 
 starts, and then flushes ; his voice is very eager. " Are 
 you not mistaken. The pilgrims to-day are surely from 
 Versailles and Tours." 
 
 " From Versailles, yes, reverend father, but not from 
 Tours. Father Gaspard told me this morning that the 
 Tours pilgrims have not yet reached Pontorson, and 
 these from Chartres have come to-day in place of them." 
 
 But before the last words are spoken the priest has 
 turned to go away. He hurries out of the inn, passes 
 through the dark archway of the inner battlement, and 
 then, turning aside from the crooked street of ancient 
 stone houses, goes up the steep ascent to the fortress 
 abbey. The rain has ceai ed, but the wind howls yet 
 more wildly over the waste ; a waste even more dismal 
 here, for it seems boundless, except where a faint blue 
 line marks the Breton coast, and on the right a stronger, 
 nearer line of margin traces out Avranches and the 
 Norman sea-board. 
 
 Farther north, islands make uncertain specks in the 
 wide expanse of gray sea and monotonous greVe, for at 
 this height the variation of tint is indiscernible, and the 
 infinite sameness gives a weird melancholy to the prospect 
 a melancholy that fills the heart with unaccustomed
 
 240 PICTURES AND LEGENDS. 
 
 throbbings and fragments of thought, fragments which 
 might who can say ? grow into poetry in a longer 
 contemplation. The young priest had felt these 
 throbbings on his first arrival at the Mount, but to-day, 
 though the atmosphere was charged with weird pathos, 
 he hurried on, alike unmindful of the desolate waste or 
 of the superb " marvel " of masonry before him, till he 
 stopped at last before the frowning doorway and entered 
 the monastery. 
 
 In the guard-room two priests were busy at one 
 end of the large vaulted hall, selling crosses and rosaries 
 to pilgrims, while at the other end some peasant-women 
 had set up a shop for photographs. 
 
 " You must hasten," one of these said to her customer, 
 " or you will miss the benediction in the Crypte des 
 Gros Piliers. The Bishop is on his way there now." 
 
 " Do you hear, Adele," the woman who was buying 
 said to her companion ; " hasten, or we shall miss an- 
 other sight." They paid hastily for their purchases, and 
 scrambled up the steps which led into the interior of 
 the building. 
 
 Here all was scramble and confusion ; the ordinary 
 guides were making holiday, and people roamed aimlessly 
 up and down the long passages and dark irregular 
 flights of stone steps, trying to find their way to the 
 crypt, and fearing to lose themselves and to get buried
 
 FROM NORMANDY AND BRITTANY. 241 
 
 out of hearing in some of the far-off world-famous 
 dungeons of the fortress abbey. A few dim oil-lamps 
 here and there only shed a faint glimmer in the utter 
 darkness of the place round the spot on which they 
 hung stone walls and roof alike black with age. 
 
 But the priest knew his road, and he hurried on 
 through the noisy groups of pilgrims till he reached the 
 chapel of Notre Dame-sous-Terre. 
 
 He had purposely avoided the main entrance to the 
 crypt, and had gone in at the side, and now he 
 stood wedged in by the crowd against one of the groups 
 of huge pillars which give its name to this wonderful 
 chapel, or series of five chapels, beneath the church itself. 
 
 Even his eager search for the Chartres pilgrims was 
 checked for an instant by the scene. A little way from 
 him was the famous image, a black Madonna, richly 
 dressed and surrounded by a wreath of flowers ; over 
 her head hung a lamp, shining out like a star against the 
 dark pillar and black vaulted roof, while from the roof 
 itself hung an iron chandelier filled with blazing candles. 
 The spaces between the two circles of pillars were inky 
 in their depth of darkness. 
 
 Just under the chandelier, so that the light con- 
 centrated itself on his gold jewelled mitre and splendid 
 
 vestments, stood the tall Bishop of Coutances, his 
 
 R
 
 242 PICTURES AND LEGENDS 
 
 jewelled crosier borne beside him ; behind and around, 
 stretching away into the dark aisles, was a crowd of 
 white-robed priests and acolytes, and beyond these 
 again, surging round the crypt till every inch of it was 
 filled, so closely packed that it seemed as if you might 
 walk on their bowed heads or upturned faces, were the 
 pilgrims ; each of them was marked with the red cross, 
 and many of them carried a lighted candle. 
 
 And now the Bishop began the hymn, and as the 
 pilgrims poured out their voices till the sound rang 
 from arch to arch, and, swelling out through the dark 
 arches, was echoed back from far-distant seldom-trodden 
 galleries, tears rolled down many of the withered cheeks, 
 and fell on many starched cap-strings and many a ragged 
 gray beard. 
 
 The hymn swelled louder and louder, and then, as 
 it ended abruptly, the procession formed itself and began 
 slowly to leave the underground chapel. Just as the 
 Bishop turned to follow the long string of priests, 
 there was a swaying movement in the crowd, and a 
 woman's voice cried : 
 
 " Make way make way, I tell you. You will 
 trample on her ; see, she is falling!" 
 
 " Mon Dieu!" an old gray-bearded man wheezes 
 out. " She should not be in such a crowd ; folks come 
 here to worship, not to faint"
 
 FROM NORMANDY AND BRITTANY. 243 
 
 The priest has pushed his way through the swaying, 
 moving mass, and now he stands beside the woman who 
 cried out just now. Well enough he knows that hugely- 
 opened mouth and that triangular nose, but he has no 
 time to recognise Madame le Camac. His eyes go on 
 to the burden she struggles to keep from falling, for her 
 arm is clasped closely round her small slender companion. 
 The priest does not stop to gaze at that gray death-like 
 face, nor does he ask a question. 
 
 " Leave her make way," he says, as he bends over 
 Marie Texier, and raises her in his strong young arms. 
 He bears her out of the dark chapel, along a passage to 
 a staircase, and Julie scrambles after him quickly, and 
 finds herself presently in a square cloister, three hundred 
 feet high in air, surrounded on all its sides with ex- 
 quisite lancet arches, supported on slender sculptured 
 columns. 
 
 The priest has lain his burden down just within 
 these arches, he kneels beside Marie and unties her 
 cap-strings. 
 
 Madame le Camac is bustling forward, but at the 
 agony in the priest's face she stops short, for she recog- 
 nises Eustache. The little mother and her boy are to- 
 gether at last. The mother's eyes are open now ; she 
 too sees her boy, and a bright smile shines out of the
 
 244 PICTURES AND LEGENDS 
 
 wan gray face. Julie shrinks back and cowers behind 
 the arches. Too well she knows the joy that fills that 
 tender long-suffering heart ; how could she rob it of 
 one minute of its longed-for happiness ? She must yield 
 up her part in Marie now. So she shrinks out of sight. 
 
 " Mother, mother," Eustache says, " how long has 
 this been ? Oh, why did I not know ?" for too surely 
 it seems to him that death hovers on that ashy face and 
 on those purple lips. 
 
 His mother gazes fondly at him, and tries to put 
 up her hand and stroke his face. 
 
 "My Eustache," so softly said that he has to lean 
 down to hear, " it is I who should kneel to him for 
 blessing." Her eyes close. "Thank God," she whispers 
 as he stoops to kiss her forehead. 
 
 " Mother, you will recover." He looks round for 
 help, and he sees the figure crouching behind the slender 
 columns. 
 
 "Some water from the sacristy!" He points to a 
 large doorway up some steps. " Send one of the con- 
 vent fathers," he says, hurriedly. 
 
 Poor Julie ! She gives one sad hungering look to 
 the spot where Marie lies. It is too hard. She, whose 
 whole life's happiness lies there fading quickly away, 
 she must leave her, and give up the hope of a last fare-
 
 FROM NORMANDY AND BRITTANY. 245 
 
 well, while Eustache " Oh, it is hard ; it is hard. 
 
 He left her of his own free will," she says, hurrying 
 along ; " he has been happy enough without her all 
 this while but, Holy Virgin, I am wicked ! " And she 
 goes on still more quickly. 
 
 And while she hurries on, Eustache says all this to 
 himself. " I have been happy without her yes," he 
 says ; " but, oh, mother, I have sorely longed for thee ! 
 Mother little mother, speak to me one word !" He 
 forgets all. He is no longer the calm, self-sustained 
 priest Eustache ; his hot tears are falling on the pale 
 face. 
 
 " Has it been worth while ?" he murmurs ; and then, 
 after a long, silent pause, with bowed head, he sobs, 
 " Oh, mother, how thy loving heart has ached for me !" 
 
 Heavy steps come along the cloister. He starts, 
 looks up, and here are Father Clery and Julie side by 
 side. 
 
 The young priest clasps his mother in his arms, as 
 if he fears she will be taken from him ; but Father Clery 
 bends down and looks in her face for an instant ; then 
 he draws back, and gently draws back the eager Julie. 
 "Hush!" he says, reverently, "we are too late. All 
 that is left us now is to say the office for the faithful 
 departed."
 
 246 PICTURES AND LEGENDS 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 THE CASTLE OF FALAISE ARLETTE HONFLEUR PONT-AUDEMER 
 THE FOUROLLE BESIDE THE RILLE. 
 
 FROM Avranches we went on to Vire, and thence the 
 diligence drive to Caen is one of the most charming 
 incidents of Norman travel. We had stayed in Caen 
 before, and so we did not linger in the old city, so rich 
 in churches, and in associations specially interesting to 
 English men and women. We were anxious to visit 
 the castle and town of Falaise the birthplace of 
 William the Bastard. 
 
 The town of Falaise is built on the top of a lofty 
 platform, the extremity of which is a precipice (whence 
 the name Falaise). From this rocky termination of the 
 platform rise, sheer and frowning, the imposing ruins of 
 the castle, consisting of the Norman donjon-keep and 
 Talbot's tower, the last a noble piece of masonry, built 
 by the famous Englishman Talbot, warden of the 
 Norman marches. 
 
 Henry V. of England besieged this castle in 1418.
 
 FROM NORMANDY AND BRITTANY. 247 
 
 It withstood him for four months. Between 1418 and 
 1450 Talbot built the tower which bears his name ; it 
 is more than a hundred feet high, and the walls are 
 fifteen feet in thickness; there are four stories in it, of 
 which the floors remain ; a winding stair leads to the 
 roof, from whence is a magnificent view. The Castle 
 of Falaise was besieged by Henri Quatre in 1559. It 
 held out against his cannon for only seven days, and the 
 breach in the wall by which he took the castle by assault 
 still remains. Altogether, this fortress has sustained 
 nine sieges, one from William the Conqueror himself 
 when quite a lad. 
 
 At the foot of the rocky height from which the 
 castle rises winds the river Ante, pleasantly shaded by 
 trees. Beside the stream are the washing-places of the 
 towns\vomen, as they also were in the far-off days of 
 the Norman Duke. 
 
 The legend relates that one day, looking out of a 
 window of the lofty castle keep, Robert Count of Hiesmes, 
 afterwards Duke Robert the Magnificent, saw Arlette 
 washing clothes in the river Ante. She was very 
 beautiful, and the youth at once fell in love with her. 
 Arlette was the daughter of a tanner of the town, and 
 neither daughter nor father seems to have held out long 
 against the young Count's love and importunity.
 
 248 PICTURES AND LEGENDS 
 
 The son born to Robert and Arlette was the future 
 conqueror of England, born in the castle, so says 
 tradition, and a little room is still shown as "Arlette's 
 Bower." 
 
 The Count of Hiesmes is said to have always treated 
 his lowly love with the greatest tenderness and con- 
 sideration. After his death Arlette married Herlwin 
 of Conteville. Two sons were the fruits of this marriage 
 both destined to be celebrated, though in a less degree 
 than their half-brother William Odo, Archbishop of 
 Bayeux, and Robert, Earl of Cornwall. 
 
 From Falaise to Mezidon, and thence to Honfleur, 
 is an easy journey, and there is something in Honfleur 
 which made us go back there willingly, although we had 
 already passed through it after leaving Etretat. Poor 
 Honfleur was once queen of the Seine, and its famous 
 port held complete command across the mouth of the 
 fair river. In those days it boasted 1 7,000 inhabitants, 
 and now perhaps it does not possess loco, for the far 
 more modern city of Havre has taken all the wind out 
 of its sails, and mud has choked its harbour. It still 
 sends quantities of fruit, butter, and eggs to England, 
 and the apricots of Honfleur are renowned. 
 
 Many of the old wooden houses are picturesque, 
 and the market-place is very quaint, as the illustration
 
 FROM NORMANDY AND BRITTANY. 249 
 
 shows. But the great attraction is the charming walk 
 up the shady side of a hill looking over the Seine to 
 
 MARKET-PLACE, HONFI.EUR. 
 
 the pilgrimage chapel of Notre-Dame de Grace, and 
 the view from the Calvary here is most striking.
 
 250 PICTURES AND LEGENDS 
 
 The chapel is very interesting, full of votive offerings 
 of sailors who have escaped shipwreck, and of others 
 about to embark on a long voyage. 
 
 Around Honfleur, and more especially between 
 Havre and Caudebec, a pleasant feature of the country 
 is the Norman farm-house, embosomed in orchards with 
 thatched roof and neatly-kept barns, in great contrast 
 to its Breton neighbours, where pigs roam freely where 
 they please, and where the corn is threshed by hand in 
 the farm-yard, or outside the house-door ; but spite of 
 these evidences of civilisation, superstitions are as rife in 
 Normandy as they are in Brittany, especially in the 
 neighbourhood of Pont-Audemer, where the belief in 
 fourolles is firmly established. The fourolle is a woman 
 who has committed sacrilege, and for this sin is doomed 
 for seven years to wander at night as a will o' th' wisp. 
 She does not seem to have the power of working as 
 much mischief as the feu-follet, who is supposed to be a 
 sinful priest, but she is doomed to wander, terrifying 
 and terrified by travellers. If any one addresses the 
 fourolle by her real name, while she is dreeing her 
 penance, her term of seven years begins once again. 
 
 The drive between Honfleur and Pont-Audemer is 
 charming, full of beauty and special points of interest, 
 and it was while taking this drive that we learned the 
 tradition of the fourolle.
 
 FROM NORMANDY AND BRITTANY. 251 
 
 foe rtje Kille* 
 
 A LEGEND OF PONT-AUDEMER. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 A FENCING MATCH. 
 
 MADEMOISELLE Louis COURBON has a very thoughtful 
 look on her fair freckled face, and her round green eyes 
 have a sadness in them that is quite unusual ; for 
 Mademoiselle, although no longer young, is as merry as 
 ever she was, and her plump, round, little well-dressed 
 figure and smiling face are always to be found when 
 amusement is going on in Pont-Audemer. Her round 
 very green eyes are puzzlers : sometimes they are full 
 of innocent open wonder, and then they give through 
 the half-shut yellow eye-lashes long glances, which can 
 only be called furtive. She is an orphan, but her 
 parents left her that little half-timbered tumbledown 
 house beside the Rille, with its gable atop and washing- 
 place below. This last is a source of revenue, for the 
 river washes the basements of the multiform picturesque 
 dwellings beside it, and Louise lets out the washing- 
 shed to about twenty-laundresses, a set of merry hard-
 
 252 PICTURES AND LEGENDS 
 
 working souls, as diligent at blackening their neighbours' 
 characters as they are at soaping their linen. 
 
 Louise ekes out her slender income by dressmaking ; 
 that is to say, she will make dresses, and bonnets and caps 
 also, for a chosen few. She works for Madame C., the wife 
 of that citizen who celebrated his retirement from the 
 office of mayor by building, on the top of the steep green 
 hill which closes in one end of the town, the staring white 
 house which " swears " as the natives say with 
 everything else in Pont-Audemer ; she has also worked 
 for Madame Trajon, the wife of the lawyer and town- 
 clerk ; and for old friendship's sake she now and then 
 makes a gown for the handsomest girl in Pont-Audemer, 
 Franchise Gerard. But this is a condescension ; the 
 dressmaker considers Frangoise her equal ; and it is not 
 for the girl's sake that she makes the gowns, but for 
 that of Louis Perreyve, a young soldier, far away now, 
 whom Louise loves as though he were her young brother. 
 
 Louise Courbon is in a hurry to-day, and so, instead 
 of lingering beside the lovely Rille merry with its 
 shedfuls of chattering, laughing washerwomen, noisy 
 with the whirr of the bark-mills which show beside the 
 stream, among the quaint half-timbered and red-brick 
 houses backed by lofty poplar-trees, the green hill rising 
 above them all we must go on with her along the quay
 
 FROM NORMANDY AND BRITTANY. 253 
 
 for Louise has crossed the bridge, and there is a stone- 
 bordered quay on this side the water, with little flights 
 of steps, up which girls come slowly, so as not to upset 
 the tall well-shaped brown pitchers poised on their 
 heads. 
 
 Half-way along the quay Louise turns on the right 
 into a small narrow street, and crosses the bridge in the 
 middle of it. On each side of the canal for here is 
 one of the many branches of the poor hard-worked river 
 Rille old tumbledown wooden houses go down to the 
 water's edge, reflecting their grim and scarred old faces 
 in the stream, with here and there bright flowered 
 nasturtium wreaths clinging to the old gray boards or 
 moss-grown tiles. 
 
 The water is low to-day, for a dark line and a growth 
 of tiny creeping plants on the foundations of the old 
 houses show that it is sometimes a foot or so higher, 
 and at such high tides the white-capped woman who is 
 now kneeling on a flat stone, and beating the red shirt 
 under her hands so vehemently with her wooden bat, 
 would surely be under water if she tried to wash in the 
 river as it flows by her house. At the back window of 
 one of the houses on the left Louise sees a face she 
 knows, and begins to nod. Then, instead of following 
 the street to its end on the market-place, she takes a
 
 254 PICTURES AND LEGENDS 
 
 narrow turning on the left, parallel with the quay and 
 also with the Grande Place below. 
 
 She looks yet more serious as she stops at a door, 
 and then, after knocking-, enters. 
 
 " Go into the front parlour, Mademoiselle," a wel- 
 coming voice says from a room at the back ; "be kind 
 enough to wait, and I am with you directly." 
 
 The welcoming voice has a fat wheezy sound, and 
 Mademoiselle Louise's face is yet graver. 
 
 " Wicked old hypocrite !" she says, her freckled face 
 growing white with anger a greenish white, which does 
 not beautify Mademoiselle "giving herself such airs, 
 too !" and then she looks round the room with a sigh of 
 envy, for small as it is there is no room like it in Font- 
 Audemer. 
 
 The floor is very dark and highly polished, so that 
 even well-practised Mademoiselle Louise walks thereon 
 with caution. The panelled walls, painted a bluish 
 white, and the white lace curtains, are like the walls and 
 curtains of many another house in Pont-Audemer ; but 
 where else will you see such a richly carved oak-beam 
 across the ceiling, or such a fine sculptured mantelshelf, 
 or find such carved oak chests and cabinets of different 
 shape and size, but all manifestly genuine antiques and 
 in good preservation ? Truth to tell, their owner is a
 
 FROM NORMANDY AND BRITTANY. 255 
 
 dealer in such works. There is a chest of Louis Treize 
 period, with a " Last Supper " carved thereon, that any 
 connoisseur must long to possess, and on one of the 
 others, a tall narrow bit of rich carving shaped 
 like a what-not, are three tall Venice glasses with 
 flower-shaped bells and slender-twisted stems. There 
 is a wealth of colour in these old glasses, gold and blue, 
 green and opal, full of all hues, and softening all. A 
 Persian rug in front of the fireplace, glowing with rich 
 colour, makes the faded blue curtains which screen the 
 hearth yet more faint in hue, for though it is autumn 
 the weather is still warm at Pont-Audemer. 
 
 On a small oak table in the middle of the room 
 are some admirable photographs in standing frames, 
 and in the centre of these is a glassful of exquisite 
 flowers myrtle and jessamine. 
 
 " It must be the miller who gives these flowers," 
 says Louise, with a very sour look on her usually good- 
 natured mouth. " He has come to gifts, then, already, 
 has he ? I am not one day too soon if I want to help 
 Francoise. I'll see if I cannot be one too many for 
 Mother Therese." 
 
 There is a gasping noise in the passage, but no 
 sound of footsteps. 
 
 " She creeps about like a mouse, sly old toad," says
 
 =56 PICTURES AND LEGENDS 
 
 the irate dressmaker ; " I know her ways ; she shall 
 not catch me tripping." 
 
 And she plants herself at the door, her eyes round 
 with innocent wonder. 
 
 " Be welcome then, my good friend," the wheezy 
 waddling dame says, as she appears, and her florid 
 brick-dust coloured face is creased with a smile, which 
 somehow always has the effect of a grin in the small 
 black twinkling eyes of Madame Gerard. She is fat 
 and round and smiling, but she is not genial-looking, 
 her small keen eyes are set too near, and look across 
 one another, her lips are thin and colourless, and as 
 she has lost her front teeth, her tongue shows in a 
 disfiguring manner when she laughs. She wears a 
 black silk dress, and a cap trimmed with lace and 
 purple ribbon, and her hands are small and soft, in 
 spite of their wrinkles. "You are just the person I 
 need. I have a nice dress, Mademoiselle, and it will 
 be charming if you will only consent to make it up for 
 me." 
 
 Louise's round eyes change in an instant to green 
 slits, but she forces a smile to her lips. 
 
 " Oh, but you ask me an impossibility, Madame 
 Gerard. What can I do ? I refuse the wife of Simon 
 the butcher. I refuse Madame Fouquier of the Grande
 
 FROM NORMANDY AND BRITTANY. 257 
 
 Rue. I have indeed refused Madame Mousseline her- 
 self at the Pot-d'Acier. What can I do ? I offend all 
 the rest of my neighbours if I work for one and 
 refuse the others." 
 
 While her visitor speaks, Madame Gerard has 
 waddled to the old yellow sofa, and she pats the wide 
 seat with her little brown hand as an invitation to 
 Mademoiselle Louise. 
 
 " Bah," for the dressmaker has stopped for breath 
 " who are all these people ? You will not surely 
 confound me the widow of a distinguished artist 
 with the wives of the butcher and grocer, or with 
 Madame Mousseline of the Pot-d'Acier. I should 
 think not, indeed !" She rubs her hands together, and 
 there is malice in her little black eyes. 
 
 Up go Louise's shoulders in a shrug that brings 
 them near her ears. She feels spiteful, and a red spot 
 glows in each cheek. " An artist !" she says to herself; 
 "that is not much. But Gerard was not even an 
 artist ; he made photographs, and bought old furni- 
 ture." Then, to Madame Gerard : " It is all the same, 
 Madame, these ladies consider you their equal. You 
 see we do not always estimate ourselves rightly. 
 However, at present I am busier than I care to be," 
 
 S
 
 258 PICTURES AND LEGENDS 
 
 she adds with dignity. Then, in a tone of forced care- 
 lessness, "Is Frangoise at home?" 
 
 Madame Gerard's face does not change, but her 
 small eyes are full of war. 
 
 " Yes, yes ! the dear child is at home, but she is 
 busy. I will give her any message, Mademoiselle 
 Louise." 
 
 Instead of answering, Mademoiselle Courbon, who 
 has remained standing, runs out of the room to the 
 foot of the stairs, crying, " Franchise, Frangoise, where 
 are you ? " 
 
 Madame Gerard waddles along the passage as fast 
 as she can go, but Louise is already half-way up the 
 old-fashioned staircase. 
 
 On the landing she pauses, half-strangled, for a 
 young girl has sprung down the upper flight and flung 
 both arms round her friend's neck. 
 
 " Come down," she says, " why should you have 
 the trouble of climbing, Louise ?" 
 
 " Yes, yes, come down ! " in a gasping shriek from 
 below, for Madame Gerard has reached the foot of the 
 stairs. 
 
 " Franchise," Louise looks up at her tall elegant 
 friend with angry eyes " I want to talk to you alone, 
 let us go up."
 
 FROM NORMANDY AND BRITTANY. 259 
 
 But tall strong Francoise has put both hands on 
 her little friend's shoulders, and she pushes her towards 
 the lower flight. 
 
 " No, not to-day," she smiles ; " how can I disobey 
 my mother, Louise?" 
 
 At this Louise's eyes contract, and she gives a 
 green gleam -at the handsome wilful creature who has 
 so suddenly remembered her obedience. She keeps 
 silence, however, till they are all three in the parlour 
 again. 
 
 " Is it true, Franchise, this that I hear," impetu- 
 ously, " that you are letting yourself be courted by 
 Emile Constant ?" 
 
 The dark-eyed, dark-browed girl bends her head 
 and twists her long fingers together. Her mother's 
 eyes twinkle keenly. 
 
 " Good Louise, you doubt no one, you believe all 
 you hear. What sweet innocence at your age !" 
 
 Louise turns her back on Madame GeVard's smiles. 
 " I wait an answer from you, Frangoise," she says. 
 
 Frangoise has handsome features, brilliant eyes, and 
 good dark hair ; but she has a pale sallow skin, and 
 now this is becoming suffused with red, and she looks 
 abject and ready to cry. 
 
 "Monsieur Constant," she says fretfully, "yes, he
 
 260 PICTURES A ND LEGENDS 
 
 comes to see us. Mother, you said there was no harm 
 in his visits ; why don't you tell Louise so ?" 
 
 The little dressmaker takes firm hold of the twining 
 fingers, and fixes her eyes on the confused face. She 
 sees a struggle in it, but she cannot be sure what this 
 means ; she fears by a word even to injure the cause 
 she has come to plead, and yet she must speak. 
 
 "Would Louis Perreyve like to hear of Monsieur 
 Constant's visits ? " she says in a low voice. 
 
 It is unfortunate that Louise is so short, for Fran- 
 c_oise sees over her the shakes of the head and the 
 expressive frowns of that wonderfully placid -faced 
 mother ; it is very curious that out of such a flat shape- 
 less lump of flesh such rapid flashes can emanate. 
 Those little restless eyes do it all, though perhaps the 
 lipless wide mouth gives force and a kind of cruelty to 
 the sharp glances. 
 
 Frangoise tosses her head. 
 
 " Louis is not a tyrant, and he would say I was 
 impertinent if I objected to my mother's visitors." 
 
 Louise squeezes the girl's fingers till she hurts 
 them. Madame Gerard tries to put in her word, but 
 the little woman will not be stopped. 
 
 "Listen ;" as the girl pulls her hands away, Louise 
 turns suddenly and stands sideways between mother and
 
 FROM NORMANDY AND BRITTANY. 261 
 
 daughter. "I'll do nothing underhand; but remember, 
 Madame Gerard, you let your girl promise herself to Louis 
 Perreyve in my presence, and but for old Eustache you 
 would have let her marry him too. Well then, because 
 Eustache Perreyve has lost his money and Louis will 
 be a poor man, is he to be cast off for a rich new 
 comer like Emile Constant ? Shame on you, Therese 
 Gerard." 
 
 Madame Gerard snaps her fingers in Louise's face. 
 
 " Shame on you, you meddler. What call have you 
 to be keeping guard over a fine girl like Franchise, 
 with a mother to protect her ? But single women are 
 all alike : they think every chance a girl gets is so 
 much taken from themselves. I suppose you have an 
 eye to Monsieur Constant." 
 
 Louise keeps her eyes fixed on Franchise's face. 
 She smiles scornfully at the last words. 
 
 " Well, Madame, I have done my part ; but when 
 Monsieur Constant comes to Pont-Audemer again I shall 
 tell him all I know. He is not one to be content with 
 another man's leavings."
 
 262 PICTURES AND LEGENDS 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 A FOUROLLE. 
 
 PONT-AUDEMER is a small town. It has a large, grand 
 old church, and a large market-place ; besides this 
 there is one long street, the Grande Rue, with the country 
 rising up in a green hill at each end, and the street in 
 which Louise lives, on each side of the Rille, which 
 runs through it ; besides these there are little narrow 
 turnings which connect the two wide streets and traverse 
 the canals which work the tan-mills. On this account, 
 as every one sees every one else at church or in the 
 market, news spreads quickly in Pont-Audemer. 
 
 Louise Courbon knows this well, and she says to 
 herself as she walks home : 
 
 " If Emile Constant did not live all by himself at 
 Montfort, he would have known long ago that FranQoise 
 is promised to Louis Perreyve." 
 
 But to-morrow is market morning, and it is quite 
 possible for Louise to walk beside the river on the way 
 to Montfort, and meet Monsieur Constant as he goes to 
 market. 
 
 " I will tell him FranQoise is promised, and I will 
 tell him something else something you do not quite 
 count on, Mother Therese."
 
 OLD HOUSES, PONT-AUDEMER.
 
 FROM NORMANDY AND BRITTANY. 263 
 
 Next morning is full of drizzling rain, the river looks 
 a dull gray as she walks beside it, and the leaves of the 
 poplar-trees hang down heavily they are so wet that 
 they scarcely tremble on their slender stems. 
 
 Almost as she leaves her house, some one comes 
 limping along and takes off his cap to Louise a tall 
 stiff-looking man in a blouse and canvas trousers. He 
 does not wear a beard, but his long gray moustaches 
 give him a military aspect, and he is truly an old soldier 
 of the First Napoleon ; but his lameness disqualified 
 him early, and he earns a peaceful living as a gardener 
 at Pont-Audemer. 
 
 " Good-morning, Monsieur Perreyve," Louise nods 
 and smiles ; " is there any news of Louis ?" 
 
 " Good-day, Louise ; there is no news of my boy, 
 and I hear he is going to the frontier, so there is no 
 hope of seeing him perhaps for months ; but where are 
 you off to so early, my beauty ?" 
 
 He shuts one eye and laughs slily ; he has no idea 
 of making fun of Louise to him she is always the 
 young fresh girl of seventeen who grew old and staid 
 all in one night when the news came that Gaspard 
 Perreyve, Louis' eldest brother, had fallen in Algeria, 
 fighting bravely. The news killed Madame Perreyve, 
 and Louise set aside her own grief to comfort the widower 
 and his son Louis, then a boy of ten years old.
 
 264 PICTURES AND LEGENDS 
 
 Louise looks round sharply, and a tinge of colour 
 spreads over her freckled face. 
 
 " You should take care, Monsieur Perreyve ; it is 
 better to pay a compliment in-doors." 
 
 "Ah, mon Dieu, is she not original !" he bursts 
 into a peal of laughter, and at last he pulls off his cap 
 and takes out of it a yellow and blue handkerchief, with 
 which he wipes his eyes. " A compliment !" he murmurs 
 amid his laughter. " Ma foi, but she is original." 
 
 Louise has something more to say, and she gets 
 impatient as he breaks into fresh laughter, and puts 
 her hand rather firmly on his arm. 
 
 " But, my friend, do listen : I say it is a pity Louis 
 does not come home to look after Francoise." 
 
 "Mille tonnerres!" he leaves off laughing and 
 looks as blustering as if he still wore a uniform ; 
 Louise knows him too well to trust him further he 
 has no discretion, this simple old gardener, and he would 
 be capable of walking up to Emile Constant on the 
 Grande Place and boxing his ears, if he were told that 
 the miller had dared to visit his son's betrothed. 
 
 " Good-day," she nods and smiles, and hurries on 
 at a pace which she knows poor limping Eustache can- 
 not attempt. 
 
 The river takes a bend, and she is soon out of sight 
 of the houses. It is a lovely walk, spite of the drizzling
 
 FROM NORMANDY AND BRITTANY. 265 
 
 rain, but Louise is absorbed in looking out for the rich 
 miller of Montfort. 
 
 Here he comes at last on a tall gray horse, 
 which he sits so as to resemble one of his own corn 
 sacks. 
 
 Louise has never spoken to him, but that does not 
 stand in her way. She knows him well enough by 
 sight has she not lately watched him come out four 
 times from the house of Mother Therese ? Louise drops 
 a curtsey as he comes up to her. 
 
 On nearer inspection, Monsieur Constant looks 
 rather like a pudding with a dumpling atop or perhaps 
 like a home-baked loaf; his face is pale and round, he 
 wears a large round straw hat and a brown holland 
 blouse ; he has staring dull blue eyes and a small round 
 mouth, and these features open widely when Made- 
 moiselle Courbon curtseys. He takes off his hat, but 
 his curiosity will not suffer him to pass on. 
 
 "Your servant, Mademoiselle. You are doubtless 
 an inhabitant of Pont-Audemer, whose acquaintance I 
 have yet the pleasure to make." 
 
 "The pleasure is not certain, Monsieur" Louise 
 speaks carelessly ; as a short woman, she has a natural 
 contempt for this stout pigmy on the tall gray horse ; 
 "but I have to make you, Monsieur, acquainted with
 
 266 PICTURES AND LEGENDS 
 
 some matters, and as they are private, it seems to me 
 you had better get down and hear them." 
 
 Where the miller's eyebrows should be, thick red 
 semicircles rise towards the roots of his scanty hair, 
 his eyes glance mournfully towards his little gaitered 
 legs, and the corners of his mouth droop as much as is 
 possible. 
 
 " Mademoiselle." he says, puffing out each word as 
 if blowing soap bubbles, " I am enchanted to receive 
 your confidences, but but it is difficult for me to 
 descend without assistance and I might injure my 
 legs." 
 
 Louise sneers till her nose turns up more than 
 ever. 
 
 " Don't be afraid," she says ; " I'll hold your horse, 
 and you can lean on my shoulder." 
 
 "Ah you are very kind Mademoiselle," he puffs 
 more than ever, but he sits still in his saddle. 
 
 " Mademoiselle" he looks slowly round and then 
 settles himself comfortably " I see no one but the 
 ducks in the river ; if you will have the complaisance 
 to stand close beside me I will bend down as much as 
 possible" he propels out each word "and I will thus 
 receive your information. Ahem." 
 
 " Little fool," Louise thinks ; but she is too anxious
 
 FROM NORMANDY AND BRITTANY. 267 
 
 to lose more time, and seeing that Constant has grown 
 purple in the effort to bend down towards her. she 
 goes close up to the horse. 
 
 " Monsieur," she says gravely, "are you not courting 
 Mademoiselle Franchise Gerard ?" 
 
 Monsieur sits suddenly upright. 
 
 " I I I by what right, Mademoiselle, do you 
 ask me such a question ?" 
 
 " Right?" Louise is puzzled fora moment. "Well, 
 Monsieur, if I saw a man robbing you of your hand- 
 kerchief I should cry out, and you would thank me 
 instead of asking for my right ; but I forget, in this 
 case it is you who are the thief, Fran^oise is the hand- 
 kerchief, and Louis Perreyve is the miller of Mont- 
 fort." 
 
 "Louis Perreyve a miller?" in his puzzle he 
 forgets to puff "you mistake, Mademoiselle. I have 
 been told that Monsieur Perreyve is in the army of the 
 North." 
 
 "Listen to me" she speaks sharply. "Before 
 Louis went away he was betrothed to Franchise GeVard, 
 in my presence do you hear? in my presence" she 
 calls this loudly, for Monsieur Constant has turned his 
 face away from her observant eyes. 
 
 " I hear, Mademoiselle," and Louise softens when
 
 268 PICTURES AND LEGENDS 
 
 she sees that tears are rolling over his round cheeks ; 
 "but but I have been cruelly treated" there is a sob 
 in his voice. " Should not Madame Gerard have told 
 me this ? I I am attached to Mademoiselle Fran- 
 ^oise," he puts his hand on his heart. 
 
 "And you knew nothing about Louis ?" 
 
 " Mademoiselle" he raises his head and puffs more 
 than ever " for what do you take me ? I am an honest 
 man, I tell you, and Madame Gerard has not behaved 
 like an honest woman." 
 
 " Ah, but she cannot ; she is not honest, Monsieur. 
 Do you not know I am afraid to say it aloud, it is too 
 terrible, stoop down again she is" in a loud whisper 
 "a fourolle?" 
 
 She crosses herself as the word is uttered, and 
 Constant turns as white as ashes. 
 
 " How do you know can it be proved ?" he 
 whispers back. 
 
 " It could soon be proved. I myself have seen her 
 go out at night when she thought all the world was in 
 bed, for when I was younger I learned my trade in a 
 house opposite hers. No one knows her story, but you 
 know it is sin that makes women fourolles, Monsieur 
 Constant" she crosses herself again " and when she 
 has served her seven years to the Evil One she will be
 
 FROM NORMANDY AND BRITTANY. 269 
 
 free, unless some one puts out her light. Ma foi, I 
 would do it cheerfully if I could only meet her." 
 
 Constant gets paler still, and draws himself farther 
 from the excited dressmaker. 
 
 "Mademoiselle," he puffs, " I wish you good-day 
 you must pardon me but a man cannot be cheerful 
 who in a few moments has had the happiness of his 
 life destroyed. Oh !" he burst into a yell of despair, 
 shook the reins of his horse, and went off at a gallop. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 THE EX-CORPORAL MEETS HIS MATCH. 
 
 " MADAME LE GROS, come here, if you please, I have 
 a commission for you." 
 
 Eustache has stood looking after Louise, his cap in 
 one hand and his yellow handkerchief in the other, for 
 nearly ten minutes. He is not quick at comprehension, 
 but the dressmaker's words have stirred him strongly, 
 and he casts about for the explanation of her warning. 
 If she knows that Francoise wants looking after, others 
 may know it too. " Mille tonnerres ! I must do my 
 duty to Louis, poor boy. Ah ! why did he tie himself 
 up so young ?"
 
 270 PICTURES AND LEGENDS. 
 
 He remembers the bundle under his arm, and he 
 comes down to the entrance of the washing-shed, and 
 calls for Madame Le Gros. 
 
 A tall thin woman, her face hidden by the large 
 pink kerchief tied over her cap, comes up from the 
 water, rubbing her sinewy arms with her apron. 
 
 " Your servant, Mr. Corporal what do you want of 
 me ?" among the women, with whom he is a favourite, 
 Eustache is still Monsieur le Caporal. 
 
 As Madame Le Gros speaks, an idea comes into 
 his head. 
 
 "Ma foil" he says," it is wonderful that I should 
 have come here ; among such a party of gossips, some 
 one must know why Franchise wants to be taken care 
 of." 
 
 But it is one thing to get an idea and quite 
 another to be able to use it, and all Eustache does is 
 to gaze earnestly in the face of the tall skinny washer- 
 woman and hand her his bundle. 
 
 " Thank you, Monsieur, is that all I can do tenez ! 
 What ails Monsieur this morning ?" 
 
 Her sharp wits are puzzled by the corporal's grave 
 face, for Eustache has always a smile and a joke for a 
 woman. 
 
 "Hold !" he says, for she looks over her shoulder
 
 FROM NORMANDY AND BRITTANY. 271 
 
 as if meditating a return to her soaping ; " yes, yes, I 
 have it ; Madame, my good neighbour, have you 
 lately seen the young girl named Franchise Gerard ?" 
 
 " Dame I should think so. Franchise is not one 
 of those who keep shut up within four walls." 
 
 " She is not ill, then ?" it has occurred to him 
 that Louise's words may point to this meaning. 
 
 " 111 ? no. Why should she be ill ?" Madame Le 
 Gros looks mocking and inquisitive. 
 
 " I do not know." Eustache feels foiled, and 
 stares at the washerwoman till she laughs in his face 
 
 " Well " he speaks angrily " a girl frets after a 
 lover sometimes, when he is away." 
 
 Madame Le Gros sets both her arms akimbo, and 
 shakes her head. 
 
 " Ta ta ta, Frangoise is not that sort one goes 
 another comes. She'll never marry Louis ; ma foi, no." 
 
 Eustache frowns fiercely, and as she turns back to 
 her washing, he grasps her arm. 
 
 " Say what you mean I'm tired of the hints you 
 women fling at one another. What do you mean ? 
 Who has Frangoise put in my son's place ?" 
 
 He roars like a bull, and his face is very red ; and 
 first one and then another of the capped and kerchiefed 
 washers look over their shoulders as they kneel beside
 
 272 PICTURES AND LEGENDS 
 
 the Rille then they gabble fast to one another ; and 
 then, as Madame Le Gros answers, a buzzing chorus 
 echoes her words 
 
 " Monsieur Emile Constant of the mill at Montfort." 
 
 " Constant ? I don't know him. What is he like ?" 
 says the ex-corporal, twirling his grey moustaches and 
 looking as fierce as a wolf. 
 
 They all laugh not at him, but at his question. 
 
 "He is a pudding" "a ball" "one of his own 
 flour-sacks " " he is more like a pair of bellows," 
 Madame Le Gros screams till her voice tops the rest 
 
 " He will be in town to-day for the market," says 
 Eustache, and the women think he looks bloodthirsty. 
 
 " Well, Monsieur " Le Gros pats him on the 
 shoulder " don't be too hard on the poor little man ; 
 he can't help being rich, and a rich man to TheVese 
 Gerard is like a peach to a wasp." 
 
 "Bah!" Eustache breaks away from her he 
 burns to meet this rival, this traitor, who steals another 
 man's betrothed in his absence. His plan is to await 
 him in the market-place, where Constant is sure to be 
 pointed out to him by the bystanders. 
 
 " Mother Therese ! What does it matter about 
 Mother TheYese ? the man knows what he is about" 
 
 It is early yet, and there are few buyers on the
 
 FROM NORMANDY AND BRITTANY. 273 
 
 Place. The sellers are still busy putting up their 
 booths, the corn-market is at one end under shelter, 
 and although there seems to be an array of sacks but 
 few of the owners have arrived. 
 
 Eustache looks about him uneasily a hand touches 
 his arm, and he hears the gasping voice of Madame 
 Ge*rard. She usually avoids him, to-day she greets 
 him with a sweet smile. 
 
 " Ah," he says, without answering her greeting, 
 "you will do as well as any one ; look among those 
 men yonder" he points to the corn-market "and 
 tell me if one of them is Emile Constant, the miller of 
 Montfort." 
 
 The"rese gives a little start, for she sees how fiercely 
 he glares at her, but she answers quietly 
 
 " No, he is not there at least I think not, for in 
 truth I know little of him ; but, Monsieur Perreyve, what 
 business can you have with the miller of Montfort ?" 
 
 Her look of simple surprise puzzles him. 
 
 " Well, Madame " he takes off his cap and wipes 
 his hot face with his handkerchief "you know better 
 than I do, perhaps. I have a reckoning to settle with 
 this miller, and if you like you can stay and hear me 
 call him to account for trying to come between my 
 son and your daughter."
 
 274 PICTURES AND LEGENDS 
 
 He holds his head angrily erect, and towers like a 
 storm-cloud over the round, waddling woman. 
 
 Her face beams placidly, but the little bead-like 
 eyes are very restless. She does not answer directly 
 she has not dreamed that Louise would carry out her 
 threat so soon. 
 
 At last she says pleasantly 
 
 " Come, come, Monsieur Perreyve, why should we 
 quarrel ? Monsieur Constant will not be here for an 
 hour. Come home with me, and I will explain to you 
 all I know of the matter, and you can talk to Francoise; 
 believe me I am on your side." 
 
 Eustache believes in women he always, when he 
 can choose between the sexes, prefers to blame a man, 
 and now as he has time to spare, he thinks he will go 
 with Madame Gerard her house being so near the 
 corn-market and hear what she has to say. 
 
 She opens her house-door, waddles to the stair- 
 foot, and calls for Francoise. No answer comes. 
 
 " I am sorry, Monsieur Perreyve," she says politely. 
 "Francoise must have gone out in my absence; but if 
 you will take the trouble to sit down, I can, I believe, 
 tell you the state of the case." She sits down and 
 gasps, but Eustache stands sullenly upright " Monsieur 
 Emile Constant," she wheezes, " has eyes in his head,
 
 FROM NORMANDY AND BRITTANY. 275 
 
 and he sees how handsome the child is. I suppose 
 neighbours see him look at her doubtless they see 
 him pay me visits. But, Monsieur, when I say to 
 Francoise, ' Thou must not encourage Monsieur Con- 
 stant/ she answers for the child is quite innocent of 
 harm 'Why not, mother; thou dost not think Louis 
 would be jealous of a silly little ball of a man like the 
 miller. Louis would laugh at him/" 
 
 Eustache frowns. 
 
 " I will wait and see Franchise, Madame ; you call 
 it innocence, I call it coquetry, for a girl to trifle with 
 one man when she belongs to another especially when 
 the new man is rich." 
 
 " Oh, Monsieur " Therese smiles and pats his arm 
 "remember a handsome girl is like a flower, she 
 takes all the sunshine and gives none back. You need 
 not fear Francoise ; make yourself easy and trust to 
 me." 
 
 But while she smiles up at him there is such evil 
 in her eyes that Eustache, spite of himself, doubts more 
 than ever. 
 
 "No," he says impetuously; "that's just what I 
 can't do. I can't feel easy till I've told that confounded 
 miller to keep his eyes to himself. So by your leave 
 Madame, I'll go back to the market and wait for him."
 
 276 PICTURES AND LEGENDS 
 
 "Imprudent fool, he brings it on himself;" her 
 eyes gleam fiercely, then she says aloud, carelessly, 
 " Well, Monsieur, do as you please ; but Frangoise will 
 grieve to have missed you. She was talking of you 
 this morning ; she shall be so proud of her tall, handsome 
 father, she says." 
 
 Eustache leaves off frowning. 
 
 " Did she say so, little rogue ?" and he strokes his 
 moustache complacently. " Well, Madame, you will 
 say to her that she might sometimes come and see me 
 she is always welcome." 
 
 " Ah, Monsieur, the poor child ; how could she be 
 sure of that when you were so determined that the 
 marriage should be put off? But your message will 
 make my Frangoise quite gay. Come, Monsieur, before 
 you go let us drink a glass to the success of our son 
 Louis in the army of the North." 
 
 Eustache has two weaknesses his own good looks 
 and cognac, and Mother Therese knows them both. 
 She has only one bottle and a few glasses inside the 
 tall oak cabinet with the Venetian goblets at top, but 
 she fumbles as if she were choosing from a store as her 
 head disappears behind the carved open door. 
 
 She emerges presently with a small round black 
 bottle and two glasses ; she pours the liquor into these
 
 FROM NORMANDY AND BRITTANY. 277 
 
 on the top of the cabinet, and then offers one to 
 Eustache and puts her lips to the other. 
 
 The ex-corporal smacks his lips. " Mille tonnerres, 
 Madame, but this is good, good, good " his eyes stray 
 to the bottle as he sets down his empty glass. 
 
 "Ma foi, Monsieur" her restless eyes might have 
 warned Eustache if his eyes had not been fixed on the 
 bottle " we are a clever pair. Between us we have 
 forgotten to drink the health of our son Louis permit 
 me." 
 
 She sets his glass on the cabinet and bends over it 
 while she fills it. 
 
 " To the health of our son our dear son, Louis." 
 She closes her eyes, and again she just tastes the 
 brandy. 
 
 Eustache tosses his off ; presently he looks at her 
 with a dazed, foolish expression. He makes a step 
 forward, and tries to speak, but only mumbles, and 
 catches at the sofa to save himself from falling. 
 
 " Take my arm," says, Madame Gerard, " there is 
 no time to lose, my friend. We will go and find 
 Monsieur Constant." 
 
 Eustache takes her arm, but he puts out his other 
 hand and reels against the wall of the passage. 
 
 "Gently gently," Madame gasps, but her eyes
 
 2 ;8 PICTURES AND LEGENDS 
 
 are keen as a knife till she has guided him safely out 
 of the house and across the empty street into an arch- 
 way a little further down, where there is a heap of 
 empty wine-barrels. 
 
 He does not speak ; he follows her guidance blindly, 
 and indeed his eyes are half-closed, and he leans on her 
 so heavily that she can hardly walk beneath his weight. 
 As soon as she gets behind the barrels she stops. 
 
 " Lie there, meddling fool," and she pushes him 
 with all her strength. 
 
 He rouses, makes a clutching grasp, and, missing 
 her, falls heavily on the round paving stones of the yard. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 THE FOUROLLE MAKES ANOTHER CONQUEST. 
 
 THERESE'S flat round face peeps out of the archway, 
 the street is empty, and she goes back to her house. 
 In her hurry, for she knows the power of the dose she 
 has given, and feared lest Eustache should fall in the 
 room, she left the glasses on the table, and though 
 she is hurrying to see Monsieur Constant, she goes in 
 to remove these witnesses of her interview with the 
 ex-corporal.
 
 FROM NORMANDY AND BRITTANY. 279 
 
 She opens ttie door and goes in. Standing at the 
 entrance to the parlour, looking into the room, is Louise 
 Courbon. 
 
 She turns quickly, and Therese sees how pale her 
 face is. 
 
 "You are out early this morning, Madame," says 
 the dressmaker ; " have you seen Monsieur Constant ?" 
 for the thought that comes to Louise as her quick eye 
 lights on the \vine-glasses is that the matter is already 
 settled, and that Francoise has been that morning 
 betrothed to the miller of Montfort. 
 
 Therese's eyes work strangely, and she too turns pale. 
 
 " Why should I see Monsieur Constant ?" she says. 
 "What does the girl mean ?" 
 
 " I mean this, Madame. I told you I would do 
 nothing sly, and to-day I have told Monsieur Emile 
 that your daughter is promised to Louis Perreyve." 
 
 Through her half-closed lids she looks keenly at the 
 old woman, but Therese's face is smoother than it was 
 before. 
 
 " Magpies must chatter, it is their nature," she says 
 calmly. " I should not dream of telling my private 
 affairs to a stranger." 
 
 " Though you give a drop to ' a stranger' at this 
 time of day," says the freckled woman with stinging
 
 280 PICTURES AND LEGENDS 
 
 emphasis. " Good day, Mother Therese, I may chatter, 
 but I am not a will-o'-the-wisp." 
 
 Therese reddens, but she wants to be rid of her 
 visitor, and so lets her depart unanswered ; then she 
 hastily puts away the wine-glasses into the cabinet, and 
 takes her way to the market. 
 
 The place is thronged, but scarcely any one greets 
 Therese. The Cure of St. Ouen as he passes avoids 
 the chance of speaking to her. 
 
 " Did you see ? ' 'says old Nanon, the potato-seller, 
 to Julie, the vendor of red cabbage and carrots close by, 
 " Monsieur le Cure passes Therese Gerard without a 
 word." 
 
 " Mon Dieii /" and gossiping red-haired Julie clasps 
 her hands in horror, and repeats to her next neighbour 
 that old Nanon saw Monsieur le Cure sign himself as 
 he passed Mother Therese, because she is a fourolle. 
 
 "She ought to be burned or drowned," says the 
 next neighbour Rose, and she goes home and tells her 
 husband that Monsieur le Cure of St. Ouen says Therese 
 GeVard ought to be burned or drowned for being a 
 will-o'-the-wisp. 
 
 Monsieur Constant is busy among the corn-mer- 
 chants at the farther end of the market, but he sees 
 Therese on her way towards him.
 
 FROM NORMANDY AND BRITTANY. 281 
 
 He too turns his back on her, and screws his round 
 flat face into a listening expression as he plucks the 
 sleeve of the slowest speaker in Pont-Audemer, Mon- 
 sieur Ricanot, the tailor, and asks him the news of the 
 day. 
 
 But Therese sees this manoeuvre and understands 
 it. She can be as patient as a camel when she has a 
 point to gain. So she hovers round the unhappy little 
 man, like the fourolle people say she is, till at last 
 the corn-merchants drop away one by one, and he is 
 left alone. 
 
 Then, as if she just perceived him, she darts on him 
 with the sudden descent of a hawk. 
 
 " Ah, good day, my friend, and you are coming to 
 see us, are you not, as you promised ?" 
 
 She turns as if to walk beside him to her house, 
 but Emile retreats. 
 
 His round face has become a very greasy yellow, 
 and his eyes stare duller than ever. 
 
 " Madame must excuse me," he stammers. " I have 
 to return home early, and I must forego the honour of 
 the visit" 
 
 Therese laughs till the tongue shows in her empty 
 mouth. 
 
 "What a pity," she says, "when Franchise has
 
 282 PICTURES AND LEGENDS 
 
 stayed in all the morning to have the chance of thank- 
 ing you for the charming flowers. Well, then, you 
 must give me a pretty message for my daughter ;" she 
 nods her head triumphantly, though she is wondering 
 how to get this fat idiot as she calls him home, and 
 settle the matter irrevocably. 
 
 "Her daughter!" Constant's lower jaw drops, and 
 he looks ready to faint with terror. Therese gazes at 
 him with such astonished glances that he is forced to 
 speak. " Madame I have been told news Madame 
 why did you not tell me that your daughter was not 
 free, that she was promised to Louis Perreyve ?" 
 
 He clenches both fists in the energy of his 
 demand, for at the remembrance of the deception prac- 
 tised on him he thinks only of losing Frangoise, and 
 forgets his fear of the fourolle. 
 
 " Louis Perreyve !" Therese opens her little eyes. 
 " Ma foi ! is there then no end to the gossip of Pont- 
 Audemer ? Now, Monsieur," she says with an offended 
 air, " I will wager that the teller of that news was 
 a little freckled, green-eyed chatterbox called Louise 
 Courbon, with a face like a toad and a tongue like a 
 magpie. Tell me it was she, and you set my heart at 
 rest." 
 
 Constant's dull wondering eyes stare at Madame 
 Gerard.
 
 FROM NORMANDY AND BRITTANY. 283 
 
 " It was undoubtedly such a person, Madame ; I 
 was about to make other inquiries, but somehow I was 
 prevented." 
 
 He had nearly said, " If I could have got out of 
 your sight or hearing I should have asked further 
 questions, but now " " But, Madame," he goes on, 
 " I cannot see why this person should have come out 
 to seek me and tell me what is not true." 
 
 Therese smiles till her brick-dust face is full of 
 creases, and her eyes are less restless as she sees his 
 anxiety for her answer. 
 
 " How good you are !" she gasps ; " how unsuspect- 
 ing ! Why, Monsieur, the last time I saw Louise 
 Courbon she told me that a rich man had taken the 
 mill at Montfort, and that she would be his wife before 
 the year was out, even if she had to ask him her- 
 self. It was that made me guess none but she could 
 have made up such a story about my poor slandered 
 child." 
 
 She rubs her hard, dry little eyes with the back of 
 her hand, pretending not to see the rapid changes that 
 pass over Constant's round stupid face. 
 
 " Good day, Monsieur," she goes on ; "I will tell 
 Franchise that you care so little for her good name 
 that you listen and give credit to the first tale-bearer
 
 PICTURES AND LEGENDS 
 
 you meet with. What right had you to win my beauti- 
 ful child's heart and then deceive her?" 
 
 Constant stretches out both hands imploringly. 
 "Her heart, did you say, Madame?" he puffs out 
 " Ah, mon Dieu ! if I could hope listen, Madame " 
 for Therese has turned her back on him and is 
 departing. " I am not handsome, but I have a heart, 
 and I am honest ; if this story is false, then I ask your 
 pardon a thousand times, and I entreat you not to 
 betray me to your charming daughter. Madame, I 
 have shown my admiration for that young lady but," 
 he lays his fat hand on his heart, " my love is unspeak- 
 able it is here here!" he slaps his chest several 
 times " and it consumes me." Therese has turned 
 round, and is looking at him steadily, but he is too 
 much excited to notice her gaze. " Madame " he 
 waves both hands "when I heard that that fair 
 enchanting creature had belonged to another man 
 before I saw her, and that while still belonging to him 
 she had smiled on me as she has done, and led me to 
 hope for success, I felt as if as if I should burst you 
 might have put me into the mill and ground me into 
 flour. No, Madame, I am not handsome, but decep- 
 tion I cannot forgive." 
 
 Again TheVese's eyes grow restless.
 
 FROM NORM AND Y AND BRITTANY. 285 
 
 "Well, Monsieur, I forgive you, and if you will 
 promise not to listen to any more idle gossip, I will 
 let you see Franchise, and bring matters to a conclu- 
 sion, for it seems to me that is what you want." 
 
 "Madame, you are too good," he says. "I left 
 home with this intention, and if I had not met that 
 freckled mischief-maker I should this morning have 
 asked for the hand of your daughter." 
 
 Therese waves her hand impatiently. "Do not 
 speak of that girl Louise. She shall never make 
 another gown for me never. Since you wish it, let 
 us go and find Franchise." 
 
 "What is the old witch doing with the foolish- 
 faced miller ?" says red-haired Julie to old Nanon. 
 
 " She has cast a spell on him," says that withered 
 old dame ; " and he will fade like a summer flower." 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 THE MILLER SPEAKS HIS MIND. 
 
 EVENING draws on, and the lull which has come over 
 the little town since the bustle of the market departed 
 is broken now by the sound of the fife and drum, aad 
 the steady tramp-tramp of a body of soldiers as they
 
 286 PICTURES AND LEGENDS 
 
 % 
 pass through the town on their way to Honfleur. They 
 
 may only halt for half an hour or so, but two or three 
 privates whose homes are in the town have leave to stay 
 and greet their friends, and join the regiment at Havre. 
 
 As they pass her door, Mother Therese looks out 
 in the dusk. She can only see the soldiers moving at 
 a quick pace. 
 
 " Curse the red-coated fools," and she closes the 
 door, rejoicing that Frangoise stays within. 
 
 Soon after a tall man staggers out of the archway 
 and comes into the street ; he goes a little way down 
 it, and then, feeling giddy, he seats himself on a door- 
 step, nearly opposite Therese's house, and falls asleep. 
 
 The street seems to have gone to rest, when all at 
 once hurried steps come from the end near the little 
 bridge. A tall young soldier walks at a fast pace, and 
 behind him lags the watchman of Pont-Audemer with 
 his huge horn lantern. 
 
 "Pouf!" says this worthy, "I can't keep up with 
 your long legs, Louis we have been to every drinking- 
 shop in the town go home to bed, your father will 
 turn up safe and sound in the morning." 
 
 But the young soldier has seen the sleeping man 
 and stops beside him, and as the lantern is turned on 
 his face they both recognise Eustachs.
 
 FROM NORMANDY AND BRITTANY. 287 
 
 " Ciel !" exclaims Louis, "what has happened? 
 It is my father, he is not drunk, he is ill what do I 
 know, dying ? help me, my friend." 
 
 They raise Eustache and drag him between them, but 
 they -do not take him home; instead, Louis stops at 
 the door of Louise Courbon's house, and knocks loudly. 
 
 " I have found him," he says to the dressmaker ; 
 " But something terrible has happened see how his 
 head has been bleeding." 
 
 They get the doctor, and they watch beside him all 
 night ; but Eustache does not regain consciousness. 
 
 At last, as morning steals into the room, he opens 
 his eyes. 
 
 "Louis" he does not seem surprised to see his 
 son "you need not take care of Franchise the witch 
 will kill you if you meddle let her marry the miller if 
 she likes." 
 
 He closes his eyes again, and is deaf to all questions. 
 
 Louise grows white. 
 
 "Mon Dieu !" she whispers, "had Eustache been 
 drinking with her yesterday morning, and has she 
 poisoned him ?" 
 
 And then she tells Louis the events of the previous 
 day.
 
 288 PICTURES AND LEGENDS 
 
 An hour later Louis Perreyve knocks at Madame 
 Gerard's door. 
 
 He respects Louise he knows she is true, but he 
 thinks she is prejudiced against Therese, and he cannot 
 give up his trust in Francoise. 
 
 The girl opens the door herself Louis enters 
 quickly and clasps her in his arms. 
 
 She struggles away from him. 
 
 " No, Monsieur ; no, Louis you must not mother ! 
 oh, mother, come here !" 
 
 The young soldier lets her go and then stands 
 stupefied while Thdrese waddles out of the back room, 
 where she is making coffee. 
 
 " Monsieur Perreyve, this is an unexpected honour," 
 she gasps contemptuously. 
 
 " What do you mean, Madame?" his senses are com- 
 ing back to Louis, and with them comes violent anger. 
 
 " I mean that when a man is dolt enough to listen 
 to his father and to go for a soldier, when he might 
 marry the girl he loves, he deserves to lose her. Your 
 father was rich enough to buy you a substitute, Louis 
 Perreyve. If you wouldn't stay to take care of Franchise 
 you have no right to her. She is now another man's 
 property." 
 
 " Hold your tongue, shameless woman," he says
 
 FROM NORMANDY AND BRITTANY. 289 
 
 fiercely ; " if my father were still rich, you would not 
 dare to play me false." He checks himself, and turns 
 to Francoise. " My beloved," he says tenderly, " I do 
 not wrong you by a doubt : you are true you love me 
 and you will not listen to your mother's words ?" 
 
 " My mother says the truth I am not true to you." 
 Franchise blushes and hangs her head. " There has 
 been deceit enough, but I meant to write and tell you 
 to-day." 
 
 "You are not true heavens!" he snatches her 
 hands and compels her to raise her eyes. " Mon Dieu ! 
 can you be false you whom I have so trusted ? 
 Francoise look at me look into my heart and say 
 you do not love me." 
 
 The girl blushes redder still, her lips quiver, and 
 she shrinks from him in a burst of tears. 
 
 " Oh, mother mother you promised to spare me 
 this " she clasps her hands over her eyes. " I said I 
 could go through with it all if I did not see Louis 
 I cannot bear it." 
 
 Louis tries to put his arm round her, but she pushes 
 him away. 
 
 Mother Therdse has stood looking at them with her 
 restless eyes. She stamps her foot, and draws Francoise 
 
 to her. 
 
 U
 
 290 PICTURES AND LEGENDS 
 
 " You fool " she shakes the girl's arm " you poor 
 whining fool !" she gasps. "You will then marry this 
 poor soldier, and give up all your fine prospects?" 
 
 Francoise shakes herself free she raises her head 
 and looks calmly at Louis. 
 
 " You think yourself very clever, mother," she says, 
 " and you like to call names, but you are wrong, though 
 I shall marry to please myself, not you." She looks at 
 Therese, and laughs at the alarm in her face. 
 
 " Louis," she says, " do not try to win me back. I 
 esteem you too much to listen to you : you cannot 
 make me happy." Then, as he turns away in anger 
 " Listen, my friend, only a rich man can make me 
 happy. If I marry you I shall only love you a little 
 while as soon as hardships begin I shall hate you and 
 leave you." 
 
 " Francoise" he stretches out his hands imploringly 
 " it is not your own self who speaks. Think how 
 happy we have been think how I love you ; ah, you 
 do not know how happy I can make you my beloved 
 come back to me, my Franchise." 
 
 But the girl still shrinks back, and Therese stands 
 between the lovers. 
 
 " This must be ended, Monsieur," she says ; " you 
 must be thought of as well as Francoise. My daughter
 
 FROM NORMANDY AND BRITTANY. 291 
 
 dares not listen. She promised herself yesterday to 
 Monsieur Emile Constant, the miller of Montfort." 
 
 " Is this true ?" Louis speaks vehemently, then, 
 pushing past the old woman, he drags Fra^oise to the 
 stairs' foot, where there is more daylight than in the 
 narrow entrance passage. " Who is this man ?" he looks 
 at her sternly ; " I never heard of him. Speak do 
 you love him ?" 
 
 " Let me go " Fran^oise is wild with grief and 
 anger " he is not a stranger yes, my mother has told 
 you the truth." 
 
 As she speaks there is a loud knocking at the door. 
 Therese turns a gray paleness, she is so frightened that 
 she stands helpless, leaning against the passage wall. 
 Louis lets go of Franchise and opens the door. 
 
 Side by side, looking as strange a pair as could be 
 seen, are Louise and Monsieur Constant. 
 
 The miller's large dull eyes are full of angry excite- 
 ment ; but Louise is radiant. She glances over the 
 group in the passage, and then she turns to her com- 
 panion. 
 
 "Well, Monsieur, do you believe me now ?" Then 
 speaking to the astonished group, " Why do you all stand 
 here ?" says the brisk little woman ; and she goes into 
 the parlour, the others following like a flock of sheep.
 
 292 PICTURES AND LEGENDS 
 
 " Now, Monsieur Constant, you have to excuse 
 yourself to my friend Louis, and let the blame fall where 
 it is really due." 
 
 The miller, thus exhorted, holds up his flat round 
 head and prepares to puff out his words with extra 
 vigour ; but Louis stands stupefied by surprise that 
 stifles anger. He turns slowly from the heavy unmean- 
 ing face and unwieldy figure to Francoise, but she will 
 not meet his eyes. Till now she has braved it out 
 she has conquered the longing she had for Louis's love 
 from very fear of her own weakness she has kept 
 firm, but she cannot bear his contempt, she cannot bear 
 him to see the man she has put in his place she turns 
 away as the miller speaks, and hides her face against 
 the wall. 
 
 " Mademoiselle Courbon, when I called on her this 
 morning," he says pompously, " when I questioned her 
 this morning on some information she gave me yester- 
 day said I should find Monsieur Perreyve here, and 
 that I owed him an explanation." He does not look 
 at Louis ; he directs his discourse to the Venice 
 goblets, which come precisely into level with his staring 
 eyes. " But I do not feel that I owe explanation or 
 anything to anybody. Morbleu ! shall I give explana- 
 tions when I have been deceived, made a fool of what
 
 FROM NORMANDY AND BRITTANY. 293 
 
 do I say, outraged ?" he screams out with sudden 
 wrath, and shakes both fists in the face of Madame 
 Gerard. 
 
 She rouses with an effort, for the sight of Louise 
 has paralysed her with terror. Therese's first thought 
 was that Eustache had denounced her but the dress- 
 maker's silence gives her hope that as yet nothing has 
 been discovered. 
 
 " Monsieur Constant," she says, " a promise cannot 
 be broken you are the promised husband of my child : 
 pay no heed to these fables look at Fran^oise and 
 do not listen to these intruders." 
 
 " No, I will not look at her, traitress," he screams 
 in fury. " Ah, hag, harpy, murderess, for have you 
 not nearly murdered the father of this gentleman ? 
 Marry your daughter ! do you think I could be sure of 
 my life, you witch ? Take yourself away, infamous 
 that you are take yourselves both away from Pont- 
 Audemer, or I will have you prosecuted and punished. 
 Monsieur " he turns suddenly to the young soldier 
 " shake hands, Monsieur, we are well rid of such a wife 
 come come away as you would from the pit of 
 hell and you Mademoiselle " to Louise " open the 
 door, if you please."
 
 294 PICTURES AND LEGENDS 
 
 Eustache recovered after a while from the effects 
 of the narcotic he had swallowed, and from the injuries 
 he had received in his fall. 
 
 His son went back to the army of the North, reck- 
 less what became of him ; and the Gerards disappeared 
 in the night from Pont-Audemer. Gossips say that the 
 Evil One fetched away his own ; and gossips also say 
 that soon afterwards the miller of Montfort proposed to 
 the little dressmaker, but that she prefers to remain 
 Mademoiselle Louise Courbon,
 
 FROM NORMANDY AND BRITTANY. 295 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 CAUDEBEC ROUEN ST. ROMAIN AND THE DRAGON "A WAIF 
 OF THE WOODS " CHATEAU GAILLARD. 
 
 FROM Pont-Audemer one must cross the Seine to reach 
 Caudebec. 
 
 Perhaps one of the most charming sights the Seine 
 offers to the traveller who comes down the river 
 in the little steamer from Rouen to Havre is the 
 pretty town of Caudebec, backed by richly wooded 
 hills, with its broad terrace beside the river, along 
 which a double avenue of trees runs close to the water's 
 edge ; while behind, above the quaint half-timbered 
 houses, rise the rich spires of the fine church or 
 cathedral, as travellers so often call it. We reached 
 Caudebec on market-day, and the broad quay was alive 
 with country folk, who not only set up their stalls here 
 but spread the ground with their merchandise, while 
 their lofty green-hooded waggons stood ranged under 
 the tall trees of the avenue. But the market was at 
 its best in the Grande Place in front of the church, and
 
 290 
 
 PICTURES AND LEGENDS 
 
 this is altogether the most picturesque sight to be seen 
 in either Normandy or Brittany, not even excepting 
 
 MARKET-PLACE, CAUDEBEC. 
 
 the market of Ouimper ; for although the Breton 
 costumes are far more rich in colour ana quaint in form 
 than the ordinary Norman peasant clothing, the Cau-
 
 FROM NORMANDY AND BRITTANY. 297 
 
 dcbec women get the pull in the taste with which they 
 display their wares, and in the far greater charm of the 
 Place itself. 
 
 Henri Quatre said the grand old church at one end 
 of this Place was the finest chapel he had ever seen ; 
 its southern side completely fills the end of the square, 
 the other three sides of which are filled by quaint old 
 fifteenth-century houses, as yet but little modernised. 
 Hitherto Caudebec has been a sleepy town, full of old- 
 world quiet, only broken by the noise of the bark mills 
 which at times make the whole place unsavoury ; the 
 railway is some miles off, and the demon Improvement 
 has not yet cast his eyes on this rarely picturesque 
 town beside the silver Seine, with its gray fringe of 
 willows and its winding curves ; but he js not far off 
 it is only a question of months, or perhaps a year 
 or two. The traveller who would see this perfect speci- 
 men of an old Norman town, still wearing the picturesque 
 charm that old age gives, and with all the freshness of 
 old-world ways still clinging to its people, should visit 
 it without delay. There is plenty of sketching to be 
 done in the town, and the walks are lovely. 
 
 Sauntering on beyond the avenue, along the dusty 
 white road, now shaded by a lofty tree-covered hill, 
 where old Norman farm-houses nestle, now screened
 
 298 PICTURES AND LEGENDS 
 
 from the river by wan phantom-like birches, we came 
 one afternoon to the exquisite little pilot village, Ville- 
 quier, with its tiny-spired church perched half-way up 
 the wooded height, as if it would keep its distance alike 
 from the castle above and the cottages at its feet. 
 This village, where the river Curves in an. exquisite bay, 
 is a station for the pilots who guide boats and barges 
 through the perils of the Seine and its dreaded Barre. 
 
 The large illustration shows the principal street 
 of Caudebec, lined with old houses. At the end rises 
 the richly carved church spire, which, like the rest of 
 the building, is a miracle of stonework. We spent 
 some time in this delightful little town, and were very 
 unwilling to leave its peaceful beauty for the more 
 noisy and crowded city of Rouen. 
 
 Eouem 
 
 THE city of Rouen has been so well and so exhaust- 
 ively described by so many writers that it does not 
 seem necessary to give any detailed account of it in 
 this book. Only a few years ago it was the most 
 picturesque city of Normandy, perhaps, indeed, of 
 Europe ; now, alas, much of its quaint originality has 
 disappeared, and the old houses that remain are being
 
 GRANDE RUE, CAUDEBEC.
 
 FROM NORMANDY AND BRITTANY. 299 
 
 replaced by modern inanities, the old streets will soon 
 
 AN OLD COURT IN ROUEN. 
 
 have passed away, and only the churches and a few 
 public buildings will remain of old Rouen. Even
 
 300 PICTURES AND LEGENDS 
 
 public buildings have been deprived in a large measure, 
 owing to these changes, of their picturesque connecting 
 links with the past 
 
 The Place de la Vieille Tour is perhaps the least 
 modernised of the old Places of Rouen ; it still 
 possesses many picturesque points. The building 
 called Monument Saint Remain stands in this Place, 
 opposite the Halle aux toiles or Cloth Market ; it is a pic- 
 turesque specimen of the Renaissance style. This build- 
 ing is associated with a strange ancient custom, called La 
 Levee de la Fierte de St. Romain ; for on the top of 
 the double flight of steps the Chapter of the cathedral, 
 every year on Ascension Day, was entitled to pronounce 
 by one of their number the pardon of a criminal under 
 sentence of death. How this privilege came to be 
 accorded to the chapter of Rouen Cathedral the fol- 
 lowing legend will show : 
 
 >amt Eomam auto rtje SDcaiptt, 
 
 SAINT ROMAIN had passed his youth at the court of 
 Clotaire the Second, and was loved and reverenced by 
 rich and poor alike for his piety and modesty. He was 
 consecrated bishop of Rouen about 630, and he at once 
 vigorously set to work to put down idolatry. His pious
 
 FROM NORMANDY AND BRITTANY. 301 
 
 efforts were crowned with great success and he had 
 power given him to work miracles. The most famous 
 among these exploits was his encounter with a dragon 
 called Gargouille. An enormous monster of this species 
 suddenly appeared in a marshy meadow in the neighbour- 
 hood of Rouen, and very soon the creature filled the hearts 
 of the townspeople with sorrow and dismay ; he devoured 
 indiscriminately all the men, women, children,and animals 
 who came in his way. No one dared venture near the 
 marsh, and all business which lay beyond the town on 
 that side was suspended. This wholesale destruction 
 of his flock greatly troubled St. Romain, and he turned 
 over in his mind many ways of putting an end to 
 Monsieur Gargouille's inordinate appetite. At last he 
 determined to make a direct attack upon the monster. 
 He announced his intention in the cathedral, and ex- 
 pressed a desire that some one should accompany him 
 on the expedition. But no one seemed inclined to 
 accept the privilege. At last the bishop's difficulty 
 came to the ears of a criminal under sentence of death, 
 and he at once offered his services. The bishop 
 accepted them gladly, and the two set forth for the 
 marsh. St. Romain only took his pastoral staff; but 
 his companion preferred to carry a serviceable sword 
 and shield.
 
 302 PICTURES AND LEGENDS 
 
 When the monster saw the saint and the sinner 
 approaching he rushed towards them, flapping his huge 
 wings, and, making a fearful outcry, he spat forth fire 
 from his mouth and nostrils. The criminal felt his last 
 hour was come, but put himself in an attitude of de- 
 fence. Nothing daunted by the fearful sight, the good 
 bishop instinctively raised his hand and made the sign 
 of the cross, uttering a sentence in very good ecclesias- 
 tical Latin. To the bishop's surprise for it must be 
 owned he was feeling more confidence in the effect of 
 a good blow from his staff than from any Latin the 
 dragon instantly dropped his blustering attitude, and 
 cowered before his adversaries. The bishop without 
 more ado whipped off his stole, passed it round the 
 monster's neck, and delivering him to the criminal, bade 
 him lead the dragon into the city. 
 
 Great was the wonder of the inhabitants when they 
 saw the trio approach the bishop walking beside the 
 dragon as calmly as if he were pacing the cathedral, 
 and Monsieur Gargouille shambling along with lowered 
 crest and drooping wings, held in leash by the criminal ; 
 and so, followed by the rejoicing townsfolk, they passed 
 on to the cathedral square, where Monsieur Gargouille, 
 by the order of the bishop, was tied to a stake and 
 burned.
 
 FROM NORMANDY AND BRITTANY. 
 
 303 
 
 It need hardly be said that the condemned criminal 
 received a free pardon for his share in the exploit. 
 
 MONUMENT TO ST. ROMAIN, ROUEN. 
 
 In order that the memory of this great miracle 
 might be preserved, the king Dagobert gave to the
 
 304 PICTURES AND LEGENDS 
 
 cathedral of Rouen the power to pardon every year, 
 at Ascension tide, a criminal under sentence of death. 
 The pardon was pronounced from the top of the double 
 staircase, and then the criminal walked in a procession 
 of priests and acolytes to the cathedral, carrying la 
 Fierte de St. Remain. La Fierte was the casket con- 
 taining the relics of St. Romain, and during the cere- 
 mony of his pardon the criminal was obliged to support 
 this on his shoulders. This curious custom was only 
 done away with at the time of the Revolution. 
 
 Many quaint by-streets and lanes still exist in 
 Rouen ; the illustration represents one of these. 
 
 All sorts of legends are told of Rouen and the 
 neighbouring country ; a very popular one is related of 
 Richard the Fearless, third Duke of Normandy, whose 
 father and grandfather, William Longsword and Rollo, 
 are both buried in Rouen cathedral.
 
 FROM NORMANDY AND BRITTANY. 305 
 
 Si faliaif of tije 
 
 A LEGEND OF DUKE RICHARD THE FEARLESS. 
 
 " A Richard le Normant aduint maintes merveilles 
 Vers celles que vueil dire elles sont nompareilles 
 Quon puis dire de bouche ne escouter doreilles." 
 
 Roman de Richart. 
 
 PART I. 
 
 ONE evening, just after sundown, Richard, Duke of 
 Normandy, called Sans Peur, was riding slowly through 
 the wood near his chateau de Molineaux. As he passed 
 under the branches of a lofty tree he heard the wailing 
 cries of an infant. He stopped his horse and listened 
 the cries redoubled, and, to his astonishment, they 
 seemed to come from above his head. 
 
 The Duke quickly dismounted, and, fastening his 
 horse to a tree, began to unbuckle his spurs. 
 
 " Surely the child is in the tree," he thought ; " I 
 will climb and find out." 
 
 Another burst of cries and sobs, and he began to 
 climb the tree as fast as he could ; guided by the voice, 
 he soon discovered the little creature niched in a hollow 
 formed by two branches. Then he looked at his dis- 
 covery. It was a beautiful child, and its clothes were
 
 ^06 PICTURES AND LEGENDS 
 
 of a good fashion and texture. As soon as the Duke 
 touched it it left off crying. He clasped it to his 
 breast, and climbed down the tree carefully. 
 
 "Whose child can this be?" he said. "By my 
 faith, I must be its godfather, poor little soul." 
 
 The Duke tenderly wrapped it in his cloak and 
 remounted his horse, then he rode quickly towards the 
 cottage of his forester and knocked at his door. 
 
 " See what I have brought you, Margot," he said to 
 the forester's wife. " Your trees bear strange fruit." 
 
 He held the child to the woman, but it began to 
 cry out loudly, and showed by its looks and movements 
 that it wished to remain with the Duke. 
 
 " Holy Saints!" said Margot, "does my lord mean 
 that he found this beautiful creature in the forest ?" 
 
 " Yes, by my faith, I plucked it from a tree ; how 
 it got there the saints only know. As I rode along I 
 heard loud cries in the air ; I climbed a tree, and this 
 little apple was growing on a branch." 
 
 While the Duke spoke, Margot had got the little 
 creature in her lap, and began to take off its clothes. 
 
 " Tell me, my good Margot," said the Duke, " is it 
 a boy or a girl." 
 
 " By the blessed Virgin, my lord, it is the most 
 beautiful girl that was ever made."
 
 FROM NORMANDY AND BRITTANY. 307 
 
 " That pleases me well," said Richard. " I put her 
 in your charge, Margot ; you must be a mother to her." 
 
 "Yes, yes, Monseigneur, your will shall be obeyed." 
 
 The Duke put some gold pieces on the table and 
 gave a parting kiss to the child, who laughed and 
 crowed with delight ; then he mounted his horse and 
 rode away. 
 
 It was now nearly dusk, and as the Duke turned 
 into one of the wide alleys of the forest he came upon 
 a large pack of hounds ; behind them ran the hunts- 
 men, blowing horns, and after these came a great 
 number of men on horseback. 
 
 The Duke's horse stood still and trembled in every 
 limb. 
 
 But Richard cried out, " By the true God, I will 
 know who are these who dare to hunt without my 
 leave." 
 
 Suddenly the Mesgnie Hellequin 1 came into his 
 mind, and just then he espied among the troop one of 
 his own squires who had died a year ago. The Duke 
 urged his trembling, stumbling horse towards the figure. 
 " From whence do you come ?" he asked ; "what brings 
 you here ? were you not the seneschal of my court ? 
 and have you not been dead a year ? " 
 
 The phantom hunter and his troop. A superstition of Normandy.
 
 3o8 PICTURES AND LEGENDS 
 
 " Yes, sire," said the figure, in a hollow voice, " I 
 was seneschal of your court, and I died a year ago." 
 
 " Tell me then," said Richard, " how have you come 
 to life again ?" 
 
 " Alas, sire, I am not alive, I am a spirit, and I am 
 doing penance for my sins, and so are all the rest you 
 see here. We are all the servants of Hellequin." 
 
 " How dares he hunt in this forest without my 
 leave," said the Duke angrily. " By the faith which I 
 owe to God, I will not suffer it. Where is this Helle- 
 quin ? I will learn from his own mouth who he is." 
 
 " Sire, you are my master, I will conduct you to 
 him." 
 
 Then the squire led the Duke to a large thorn tree 
 where a tall dark-looking man was seated. Richard 
 the Fearless, as soon as he saw him, asked him by 
 whose leave he hunted in the forest. 
 
 " By the leave of God," said the dark figure. He 
 has commanded us to hunt in these woods all through 
 the night. I am Hellequin." 
 
 Thus saying, Hellequin descended from the thorn 
 tree, and seated himself upon a piece of silk which the 
 seneschal had spread for him on the ground. 
 
 " Can you tell me, strange man, if I shall live 
 long?" said Richard.
 
 FROM NORMANDY AND BRITTANY. 309 
 
 " I do not know, but I foresee that you will 
 encounter many dangers ; however, neither friends nor 
 enemies will have any power over you. Ask me nothing 
 more. Farewell !" 
 
 Richard heard this prediction with great joy. 
 
 As he was going, Hellequin said, " Take this as a 
 memento of our meeting," and he gave the Duke the 
 rich piece of silk on which he had been sitting. The 
 Duke bowed and returned to his horse. He threw the 
 silk, which was of extraordinary richness and beauty, 
 over the saddle, and laughed. " It will one day make 
 a good robe for my foundling," he said. 
 
 PART II. 
 
 THE child throve fast and well under the care of the 
 forester's wife. Indeed, her growth was almost magical, 
 and each year that passed over her head seemed to 
 increase her grace and beauty. Duke Richard, who 
 was a bachelor, took the greatest interest in his 
 protegee, and he paid constant visits to the cottage in 
 the forest. He had kept this adventure a profound 
 secret, and he had imposed silence on the child's foster- 
 mother ; so the strange waif grew up like a sweet 
 violet, lost to view in the shade of a wood.
 
 310 PICTURES AND LEGENDS 
 
 One day after leaving the cottage, Duke Richard 
 began to ask himself what would be the end of this 
 affair, for he found that the beautiful girl was con- 
 stantly in his thoughts, and that each time he saw her 
 it was more difficult to leave her ; in fact, the bold 
 Duke was head over ears in love with his forest flower, 
 not after the too frequent fashion of his order, but 
 honestly in love. The maid was as modest as she was 
 beautiful, but she could not help showing, by her delight 
 whenever he appeared at the cottage, how tenderly 
 disposed she was towards him. 
 
 " By my faith," said Richard, " it seems but the 
 other day I carried her in my arms down the wood, and 
 now she is a well-grown young woman. Margot has 
 done her duty by her. Yes, yes ; she is a beautiful 
 creature, and without doubt would make a most loving 
 and virtuous wife." 
 
 About this time the barons of Normandy, both 
 great and small, held a consistory, and, as though they 
 had divined their master's wishes, they resolved to ask 
 him to choose a wife who might give him an heir to suc- 
 ceed in the government of the country ; certain of their 
 number therefore besought an interview with the Duke, 
 and made known to him their desire with all due 
 respect and formality.
 
 FROM NORM A ND Y A ND BRITTA NY, 3 1 1 
 
 Duke Richard smiled when he heard the request of 
 his barons. 
 
 " By my faith," he said, " your desires jump with 
 my own. I have been thinking of this very thing, and 
 I am ready to do what you wish." 
 
 A chorus of pleasure was growled out by the 
 barons, as they stroked their beards or twisted their 
 moustaches, each man according to his habit. 
 
 " Sire," said the oldest and highest in rank, " there 
 are several noble dames from whom we have thought 
 your Grace might be pleased to choose." 
 
 " In the matter of choice," said the Duke, " I shall 
 consult no one. I have in my mind a young maiden 
 whose bringing up I have watched ever since she was 
 a child. I could never find a maid more beautiful or 
 more to my liking. She is young but " added the 
 Duke with a smile, " she will grow older ; I will make 
 her my wife." 
 
 " Sire," said the barons, " may God give her on 
 whom your heart is set the joy and honour of being 
 your wife." 
 
 So the affair was settled, though, as you may sup- 
 pose, a good deal of curiosity was excited by its singu- 
 larity, and no question was asked so often as " Who is 
 she?" especially among the ladies of the court, many
 
 312 PICTURES AND LEGENDS 
 
 of whom had hoped to be Duchess of Normandy. But 
 it was all in vain, no one could get at the root of the 
 mystery ; the only person who could satisfy them was 
 dumb ; and, indeed, he knew no more of his protegee's 
 parentage than they did. When the maiden appeared 
 at court her wondrous grace and beauty, and her per- 
 fect modesty of demeanour, silenced all cavillers, and 
 made clear to all that the Duke had sufficient excuse 
 for his mysterious choice. 
 
 In due course the Archbishop of Rouen blessed 
 the nuptials, which were celebrated with great magni- 
 ficence in the Cathedral of Rouen ; and the bride, in a 
 robe made of the rare silk that Hellcquin had given 
 to the Duke, looked the most ravishing creature the 
 world at that date had seen. 
 
 PART III. 
 
 FOR several years Duke Richard and his forest-bride 
 lived happily together, the only drawback to their perfect 
 bliss being that the desire of the duke and his barons 
 for an heir was still unfulfilled. Duke Richard loved his 
 wife so passionately he could hardly bear her to be out 
 of his sight. He was always discovering in her fresh
 
 FROM NORMANDY AND BRITTANY. 313 
 
 charms of mind and body custom could not stale her 
 infinite variety her faults were almost virtues in his 
 eyes ; even a strange mischievous grace and wilfulness 
 that possessed her at times fascinated the bold duke. 
 
 But a sudden end came to all this happiness. One 
 day the Duke found his wife lying on her bed- pale 
 and spiritless ; a withering blight had fallen upon her ; 
 he strove vainly to rouse her from this lethargy that 
 dulled her faculties. At last she burst into tears. 
 
 " What ails you, sweet wife," said the Duke, much 
 dismayed by her strange unusual mood. 
 
 " Sire," she said in a broken voice, " I am very ill ; 
 I believe I am going to die." 
 
 " The holy saints forbid," cried the Duke. 
 
 A violent shudder passed over his wife at the words. 
 "Alas, sire," she sobbed, "it is true; I know I am 
 going to leave you ; my strength and life seem passing 
 away." 
 
 " My God ! it must not, cannot be," said the Duke, 
 starting up. " A surgeon must see you at once." 
 
 " Richard, do not leave me," she said imploringly, 
 laying her hand on his. " I am past all medicine, I 
 feel death at my heart while I can still speak listen 
 to me and I beseech you, by your love for me, grant 
 me what I am going to ask."
 
 3H PICTURES AND LEGENDS 
 
 " Speak, my soul's life ; I will do anything you 
 wish." 
 
 " Sire, when I am dead " her voice grew weaker 
 and weaker " let me be buried in the chapel in the 
 middle of the forest where I was brought up ; and 
 promise me, my dear lord, that you will watch during a 
 whole night beside my coffin." 
 
 The Duke hid his face in his hands. He could not 
 speak, but the heaving of his shoulders told his anguish. 
 
 " Promise," said his wife, faintly. The Duke raised 
 his head ; he was very pale, and every feature was 
 wrung with mental pain. 
 
 " If I have the misery, sweet wife, to see you dead, 
 it shall be as you wish." 
 
 The Duchess was indeed past all help from the 
 surgeons ; in a few hours from her seizure she lay pale 
 and still as marble. The Duke was inconsolable ; but, 
 faithful to his promise, he ordered that the body of his 
 wife should be taken in the evening to the chapel in 
 the forest. There, dressed in splendid robes of state, 
 the body of the young Duchess was laid on a magni- 
 ficent bier, surrounded by blazing torches. The arch- 
 bishop and his priests chaunted a solemn service for the 
 dead, and recommended the soul of the Duchess to God.
 
 FROM NORMANDY AND BRITTANY. 315 
 
 The office finished, the clergy returned to Rouen ; but 
 the Duke remained to fulfil his promise to his dying 
 wife to watch during the night beside her body. One 
 knight only of his attendants, a loved and trusted friend, 
 stayed to keep vigil with him. 
 
 Richard was very heavy hearted ; the joy of his 
 life seemed to have gone from him. The whole thing 
 had been so awfully sudden it appeared like a hideous 
 dream. He could not realise that his gay sweet wife 
 was dead, that it was only her lifeless form he looked 
 upon ; and as he gazed he fancied he saw a smile curving 
 her beautiful lips, and he almost expected her to speak. 
 
 " Oh, my love, my wife," he cried, " speak to me ; 
 say you are not dead say you will come back to me 
 in the morning light." 
 
 There was no answering voice ; only the echoes of 
 the place returned his bitter cry ; but he seemed to hear 
 strange whisperings in the air, and to feel the fluttering 
 of wings around him. 
 
 The Duke raised his head and looked round the 
 chapel. 
 
 " Heard you aught ?" he said to the knight beside 
 him, who was white with fear. 
 
 " Yes, sire, strange mutterings, and sounds like wings 
 beating the air."
 
 3i 6 PICTURES AND LEGENDS 
 
 " Some foul bird has got into the chapel," said the 
 Duke ; and his head again sank on his breast. 
 
 Towards midnight Richard and his companion were 
 seized with heavy sleep. Then a strange thing happened. 
 The body of the Duchess struggled violently and raised 
 itself on the bier a terrible cry echoed through the 
 forest. Richard started awake ; he felt no fear, he 
 only loosened his sword in its sheath and placed it 
 across his knees. 
 
 Then a voice from the bier, like the voice of his 
 wife, cried out, " What ails you, Duke Richard. In all 
 countries they tell of your daring. They say that from 
 prime to compline you never fear any living person, 
 and now behold your flesh quivers with terror. Come 
 no nearer, Richard, do not touch me, or perchance I 
 shall swoon again." 
 
 " What does this mean ?" cried the astonished Duke. 
 " Are you my own wife ? were you not dead when they 
 placed you on the bier to-day ? " 
 
 " No ; I had only swooned with violent thirst. 
 Listen, if you truly love me, if you would have me 
 alive again, do what I ask. At the entrance of the 
 wood, as you know, there is a fountain of delicious 
 water fetch me some." 
 
 " I go, sweet wife," said Richard, and he instantly
 
 FROM NORMANDY AND BRITTANY. 317 
 
 left the chapel. But he had not gone many steps when 
 a piercing cry came from the building. The Duke quickly 
 retraced his steps : the faithful companion of his watch 
 lay lifeless on the floor of the chapel. The bier was 
 empty ! A peal of mocking laughter rang through the 
 air, and then a loud voice cried out 
 
 " Ho ! ho ! Duke Richard, Brudenor has made a 
 fool of you this time. I was your dearly-loved wife 
 I Brudenor. 1 Ho! ho! ho!" 
 
 " Ah, wicked and deceitful creature," said the Duke. 
 " I swear by the God who made me, that if ever you 
 cross my path again, I will hew you in pieces with my 
 sword." 
 
 Another peal of laughter, and all was still. 
 
 Richard carefully laid the body of his knight upon 
 the bier, and watched beside it till the day broke. 
 
 When the hour of prime arrived, the archbishop 
 and the priests returned to the chapel to chant the 
 service over the body of the Duchess. 
 
 " Sing no more psalms for my wife, my Lord Arch- 
 bishop. The great devils of hell have carried her 
 away ;" and the Duke told the night's adventure. 
 
 The archbishop tried to comfort him. " Do not 
 
 1 An evil spirit called Brudenor seems to have played many tricks OB 
 Richard the Fearless.
 
 318 PICTURES AND LEGENDS 
 
 fear or doubt my liege, we know that the devils have 
 power both by night and by day to tempt Christians." 
 
 " Ah, my lord archbishop," interrupted Richard, 
 bitterly, " but I have been so foully deceived. I swear 
 by the splendour of heaven I will not take another wife 
 for seven years or more." 
 
 And in order to keep his promise after having 
 buried his murdered knight with great pomp Duke 
 Richard shut himself up in his abbey of Fecamp, of which 
 he was the founder, and remained there in seclusion. 
 
 We left Rouen one fine bright morning for Les 
 Andelys ; we were to see the famous Hotel du Grand 
 Cerf at Le Grand Andely, and also Chateau Gaillard, 
 one of the most picturesque and remarkable castles in 
 Normandy. The Chateau is placed on the Seine be- 
 tween Paris and Rouen, and the town of Le Petit 
 Andely lies below the castle walls. 
 
 The ruin rises proudly from the summit of a lofty 
 chalk cliff; it is connected only on one side with the 
 adjacent hills by a narrow tongue of land. 
 
 Richard Cceur de Lion in defiance of the treaty of 
 Louviers, and to spite his rival Philip Augustus, built 
 this famous castle. Tradition says Richard was his 
 own architect. Delighted with his pet creation he
 
 FROM NORMANDY AND BRITTANY. 
 
 319 
 
 called it his " saucy castle ;" and it was begun and finished 
 in one year. The Archbishop of Rouen excommuni- 
 cated the lion-hearted king for building this fortress. 
 The donjon, built in the form of an irregular circle, was 
 of great strength. It contained the royal apartments ; 
 
 the wallb are more than fourteen feet thick. It is only 
 reasonable to believe that this castle would have lasted 
 intact till the present day if man had not destroyed 
 his own handiwork. When Philip Augustus saw the 
 " saucy castle," he swore by all the saints that he would 
 " take it if it were made of iron." To which vaunting 
 speech Richard made answer, " I would hold it if it 
 were made of butter."
 
 320 PICTURES AND LEGENDS. 
 
 After the death of Richard, Philip besieged Chateau 
 Gaillard. It withstood him for six months, and the 
 garrison only surrendered under pressure of starvation. 
 With a garrison of one hundred and twenty men 
 the castle afterwards withstood our Henry the Fifth for 
 sixteen months, only yielding when water failed, owing 
 to the wearing out of the ropes with which the buckets 
 were sent down into the well. 
 
 Chateau Gaillard remained in a perfect state until 
 1 606, when Henri Quatre dismantled it with other 
 fortresses. 
 
 The view from the castle is very fine, commanding 
 the lovely winding river for miles. It has been the 
 prison of many celebrated criminals and prisoners, 
 among them the unhappy Marguerite de Bourgogne, who 
 is said to have been strangled in its vaults by the 
 order of her husband Louis the Tenth. 
 
 THE END.