"God bless you all, great and small," she said, using the greeting customary in that part of Brittany.
"Heaven bless you, too, stranger, whoever you may be," replied all, as they rose and curtsied.
This intercourse was conducted in the Breton tongue, the guttural voices of Madame Marais and her companions forming a marked contrast with the sweet voice of the stranger.
"Can one have apartments here? The voiturier has assured me that one can."
Pol, about to reply with an eager affirmative, was checked by a glance from his more cautious spouse, who was not disposed to give herself away too easily or too cheaply.
"It is not our custom to accommodate visitors," she replied, speaking with great dignity. "At least, not as a rule. But still with a little trouble we might arrange. How many rooms does madame require. Would four be——"
"That number will do. Will you let me see them?"
After a brief inspection the lady expressed her approval, being especially pleased with the sitting-room, an apartment marked by a charming air of antiquity. The oak flooring and pannelling were black with age. Within the huge fireplace an ox could have been roasted whole. Over the carved mantel was a boar's head, a trophy gained by Pol in a hunting expedition among the Breton hills. On a dark oaken press an ivory crucifix, browned by time, imparted a sort of solemnity to the place.
Terms were arranged; and the lady's luggage was brought in and deposited up-stairs by the strong arm of Pol himself.