best way to turn, and decided to go to the right.
Suddenly we heard a man running behind us: he shouted, "Mesdames, mesdames," and when I turned he said in an accent that seemed to me unusual that our way lay in another direction.
"Il ne faut (pronounced fout) pas passer par là." He then made a gesture, adding "par ici . . . cherchez la maison." Though we were surprised to be addressed, we were glad of the direction, and I thanked him. The man ran off with a curious smile on his face: the running ceased as abruptly as it had begun, not far from where we stood. I remember that the man was young-looking, with a florid complexion and rather long dark hair. I do not remember the dress, except that the material was dark and heavy, and that the man wore buckled shoes.
We walked on, crossing a small bridge that went across a green bank, high on our right hand and shelving down below as to a very small overshadowed pool of water glimmering some way off. A tiny stream descended from above us, so small as to seem to lose itself before reaching the little pool. We then followed a narrow path till almost immediately we
