er foot, grandpere
carried her across the fields to the fountain. She bathed her foot in
the water and said a prayer and offered a candle, and--vite, vite!--the
foot was well. In three days she could run about. But that was two years
ago, when she was a very little girl; now she was quite big."

"How old was she now?"

"She was twelve, and very soon would do her first communion, dressed all
in white, with a beautiful veil over her head. Should we not like to see
her?"

"We should, very much."

"Could we not come again next year, when it would take place? She should
so much like us to see her. La! voila l'hotel!" she cried, passing
rapidly from one subject to another, after the manner of childhood. "Now
she must run back home. And we were to be sure and come again next
year."

And before we could turn, the child had darted away, evidently to
prevent the possibility of reward: a refined instinct for which we
should scarcely have given her credit. She may have been a Bretonne, but
not a true Bretonne; her gracefulness and intelligence almost forbade
it. Yet there are exceptions to every rule, and Nature herself delights
in occasional surprises.

[Illustration: LE FOLGOET.]

We found Lesneven very dull and sleepy, but picturesque. There was a
singular old market-house of timber work, the quaintest we had ever
seen; and some of the houses formed ancient and interesting groups. Our
coachman had made an excellent dejeuner, if we were to judge by the
self-satisfied expression of his face, which resembled the sun at
mid-day seen through a red fog. He was now sitting in the courtyard
under a very lovely creeper, drinking his coffee out of a tall glass,
and of course smoking the pipe of peace. The creeper distinctly lent
enchantment to the view: the coachman did not.

We wandered about whilst he made his preparations for starting. The
market-place was broken and diversified in its outlines; one or two of
the streets turning out of it looked quite gabled and mediaeval. The
covered market-house, with its curious roof and ancient timbers, gave it
a very distinctive and very individual appearance; so that it now rises
up in the memory as one of the many Breton pictures which make one's
experience of the little country a very exceptional pleasure.

Out of the College poured a small stream of boys, startling the silence
of the sleepy little town. We were mutually surprised at seeing each
other. They looked and gazed, and wal