CONTENTS
�You ought to buy it,� said my host; �it�s just the place for a solitary-minded devil like you. And it would be rather worth while to own the most romantic house in Brittany. The present people are dead broke, and it�s going for a song—you ought to buy it.�
It was not with the least idea of living up to the character my friend Lanrivain ascribed to me (as a matter of fact, under my unsociable exterior I have always had secret yearnings for domesticity) that I took his hint one autumn afternoon and went to Kerfol. My friend was motoring over to Quimper on business: he dropped me on the way, at a cross-road on a heath, and said: �First turn to the right and second to the left. Then straight ahead till you see an avenue. If you meet any peasants, don�t ask your way. They don�t understand French, and they would pretend they did and mix you up. I�ll be back for you here by sunset—and don�t forget the tombs in the chapel.�
I followed Lanrivain�s directions with the hesitation occasioned by the usual difficulty of remembering whether he had said the first turn to the right and second to the left, or the contrary. If I had met a peasant I should certainly have asked, and probably been sent astray; but I had the desert landscape to myself, and so stumbled on the right turn and walked on across the heath till I came to an avenue. It was so unlike any