"I will show these simple English people," he had reasoned, "the long-haired goats. I will make a spécialité of these animals for the delectation of this cold-blooded bride and bridegroom, who do not kiss when I turn round to observe the prospect."
In the course of an hour and a half we arrived off a white terrace-like landing place with a flight of steps leading down to the lake.
All questions as to our destination had been answered by the boatman with mysterious nods and winks, giving promise of a stupendous surprise in store. His object was to get us safely on shore before he opened the subject of the hairy goats, lest we should, insular like, change our minds and not give him the opportunity of visiting his sister. The boat shot alongside the steps, the man sprang out and assisted us to land; a nun who had been working in the garden came down and met us.
"Ma soeur," explained our boatman, "this English milor and his lady have a great desire to see your most splendid goats!"
The good sister looked surprised, an expression which Dolores and I shared with her, mingled with amusement. We had, however, no particular objection to inspecting her goats, notwithstanding.
"Our Mother," she replied amiably, "I am sure, will be pleased to show monsieur and madame the goats if it will give them any gratification."
She preceded us through the beautifully kept kitchen garden, and up a flight of steps to another above, each foot of the productive soil being used to advantage, as we saw by the abundance of the crops reared on the sunny slope.
We mounted up from garden to garden until we came to a large terrace full of flowers, which surrounded the conventual buildings and commanded a magnificent view of the lake.
Here the sister left us.
"Will monsieur and madame divert themselves here," she asked, "while I go fetch our Mother?"