record
preserved of her, possesses a romantic charm that time has been unable
to weaken.

As she was returning to the convent after the celebration of the Te
Deum, and they were passing what was called the Gate of the Prison, the
drawbridge gave way and fell into the river. It was fortunately low
water, and no lives were lost. But the Scots Guards, separated from the
young Queen by the accident, took alarm, thought the whole thing had
been planned, and called out: "Treason! Treason!" Upon which the
Chevalier de Rohan, who rode near the Queen, quickly turned his horse
and shouted: "Never was Breton guilty of treason!"

And this exclamation may be considered a key-note to their character.
The Bretons, amongst their virtues, may count that of loyalty. All is
fair in love and war, it is said; but the Bretons would betray neither
friend nor foe under any circumstance whatever.

For two hundred years Morlaix has known peace and repose, as far as the
outer world is concerned. She has given herself up to religious
institutions, and has grown and prospered. So it comes to pass that she
is a strange mixture of new and old, and that side by side with a quaint
and wonderful structure of the Middle Ages, we find a house of the
present day flourishing like a green bay tree--a testimony to
prosperity, and an eyesore to the lover of antiquity. But these wonders
of the Middle Ages must gradually disappear. As time rolls on, and those
past centuries become more and more remote, the old must give place to
the new; ancient buildings must fall away in obedience to the inevitable
laws of time, progress and destruction.

This is especially true of Morlaix. Much that was old-world and lovely
has gone for ever, and day by day something more is disappearing.

We sallied forth, but unaccompanied by Misery, who was hard at work in
the hotel, preparing us rooms wherein, as he expressed it, we should
that night lodge as Christians. Whether, last night, he had put us down
as Mahometans, Fire Worshippers, or heathens of some other denomination,
he did not say.

The town had lost the sense of weirdness and mystery thrown over it by
the darkness. The solemn midnight silence had given place to the
activity of work and daylight; all shops were open, all houses unclosed;
people were hurrying to and fro. Our strange little procession of three
was no more, and Andre carrying a flaring candle would have been
anything but a picturesque object in the sun