Our carriage had gone on to the neighbouring town of Lesneven, to rest
the horses and await our arrival, leaving us free to examine and loiter
as we pleased. No one troubled us. The inhabitants were all away; or
sleeping; or eating and drinking; the scene was as quiet and desolate as
if the church had been in the midst of a desert.

But the time came when we must leave it to its solitude and go back into
the world--the small but interesting world of Brittany; the world of
slow-moving people and sleepy ways, and ancient towns full of wonderful
outlines and mediæval reminiscences.

We took a last look round. We seemed alone in the world, no sight or
sound of humanity anywhere; the very workmen despoiling the Gothic
college had disappeared, leaving the mute witnesses of their vandalism
in the form of scaffolding and very modern bricks and mortar. Beyond was
a village street and small houses well closed and apparently deserted.
Nearer to us rose the magnificent church, with its towers and spire, all
its rich carving fringed against the background of the sky. The longer
we looked, the more wonderful seemed its solemn and exquisite tone. The
trees beneath which we stood waved and bent and rustled in the strong
wind that blew; and beyond all stretched the dreary plain; dreary and
desolate, but adding much to the charm of the picture. It was a scene
never to be forgotten; but it was, after all, a scene appealing only to
certain temperaments: to those who delight in the highest forms of
architecture; in walls time-honoured and lichen-stained; who find beauty
and charm ever in the blue sky and the waving trees; a charm that is
chiefly spiritual.

Leaving the church behind us, and the dreary plain to our left, we