reton cap with mysterious folds, the like of which we had seen neither
in Morlaix nor in St. Pol de Leon. As far as the latter town was
concerned it was not surprising, since we had met so few of the
inhabitants.

[Illustration: HOUSE IN WHICH THE YOUNG PRETENDER TOOK REFUGE AFTER THE
BATTLE OF CULLODEN, ROSCOFF.]

The maid curtsied on entering, placed the tray upon the table, curtsied
again to her mistress, and withdrew. All was done in absolute silence:
the silence of a well-bred domestic and a perfectly organised household.
She moved as if her feet had been encased in down.

With her own fair and kindly hands, the Comtesse poured out the red and
sparkling liquid, and, breaking the cake, once more bade us welcome.

We would rather have been excused; such hospitality to strangers was so
rare, excepting in remote places where the customs of the primitive ages
still existed. But hospitality so gracefully and graciously offered had
to be met with graciousness and gratitude in return.

"The cake I offer you," she remarked, "is peculiar to St. Pol de Leon.
There is a tradition that it has come to us from the days of St. Pol
himself, and that the saintly monk-bishop made his daily meal of it. But
I feel very sure," she added with a smile, "that those early days of
fasting and penance never rejoiced in anything as refined and civilized
and as good as this."

And then for a little while we talked of Brittany and the Bretons; and
if we could have stayed longer we should have heard many an anecdote and
many an experience. But time and a due regard to politeness forbade a
"longer lingering," charming as were the old lady's manners and
conversation, delightful the atmosphere in which she lived. With mingled
stateliness and grace she accompanied us to the wonderful garden and
bade us farewell.

"This is your first visit to St. Pol," she said, as she gave us her hand
in the English fashion; "I hope it will not be your last. Remember that
if ever you come here again my doors will open to you, and a welcome
will await you. Only, let your next visit be a longer one. You see that
I speak with the freedom of age; and if you think me impulsive in thus
tendering hospitality to one hitherto unknown, I must answer that I have
lived in the world, and make no mistakes. I believe also in a certain
mental mesmerism, which rarely fails. When I saw you enter, something
told me that I might come to you. Fare you well!--Sans adieu!" she added