The more we thought upon it, the sounder seemed the idea. The place suited us all. To have our things about us would be wholly delightful. Provided we meant for the future to winter abroad, we should save money.
Pleasedly we proceeded to lunch.
Throughout the meal we discussed what manner of house ours must be, situation, dimensions, aspect. We argued amiably about its garden and curtilage. We determined to insist upon two bathrooms. By the time the cheese was served, we had selected most of the furniture and were bickering good-temperedly about the style of the wall-papers.
Then we rang up a house-agent, to learn that he had no unfurnished villa "to let" upon his books. He added gratuitously that, except for a ruined château upon the other side of Tarbes, he had nothing "for sale" either.
So soon as we had recovered, we returned to the charge…
The third agent we addressed was not quite certain. There was, he said, a house in the town—très solids, très serieuse, dans un quartier chic. It would, he thought, be to our liking. It had, for instance, une salle de fête superbe. He was not sure, however, that it was still available. A French gentleman was much attracted, and had visited it three times.
We were greatly disgusted and said so. We did not want a house in the town. We wanted….
Finally we succumbed to his entreaties and promised to view the villa, if it was still in the market. He was to ring us up in ten minutes' time….
So it happened that half an hour later we were standing curiously before the great iron gates of a broad shuttered mansion in the Rue Mazagran, Pau, while the agent was alternately pealing the bell for the caretaker and making encouraging gestures in our direction.
Viewed from without, the villa was not unpleasing. It looked extremely well-built, it stood back from the pavement, it had plenty of elbow room. The street itself was as silent as the tomb. Perhaps, if we could find nothing else…. We began to wonder whether you could see the mountains from the second floor.