When you come again your room will be waiting for you. All I need is a
domestique. The people here are most kind.

I made my pilgrimage--the interior of the Chapel is of course a modern
horror--but there is a black image of Notre Dame de Liesse--the chapel
is as tiny as an undergraduate's room at Oxford. I hope to get the Curé
to celebrate Mass in it soon; as a rule the service is only held there
in July and August; but I want to see a Mass quite close.

There is also another thing I must write to you about.

I adore this place. The whole country is lovely, and full of forest and
deep meadow. It is simple and healthy. If I live in Paris I may be
doomed to things I don't desire. I am afraid of big towns. Here I get up
at 7.30. I am happy all day. I go to bed at 10. I am frightened of
Paris. I want to live here.

I have seen the "terrain." It is the best here, and the only one left. I
must build a house. If I could build a châlet for 12,000
francs--£500--and live in a home of my own, how happy I would be. I must
raise the money somehow. It would give me a home, quiet, retired,
healthy, and near England. If I live in Egypt I know what my life would
be. If I live in the south of Italy I know I should be idle and worse. I
want to live here. Do think over this and send me over the
architect.[18] M. Bonnet is excellent and is ready to carry out any
idea. I want a little châlet of wood and plaster walls, the wooden beams
showing and the white square of plaster diapering the framework--like, I
regret to say--Shakespeare's house--like old English sixteenth-century
farmers' houses. So your architect has me waiting for him, as he is
waiting for me.