THE MAYFLIES 109 



time looked out above that window-bar, 

 gazing with languorous woman eyes 

 across this valley, through river mists of 

 twilight, far away to gay Seville ? This 

 lady, did she wear a black mantilla, and at 

 her bosom swooned a red, red rose ? You 

 see, with such a setting, the story must 

 have a touch of sadness ; we should not 

 make it commonplace, or leave our 

 Spaniard and his senora in smug con- 

 nubial bliss the while they quaff a vino 

 ~'de garrote or share a succulent tortilla 

 within the great farm kitchen. There at 

 this very moment our fish are cooking, 

 and Suzanne's mother is preparing a rich 

 and ta^^Tly sauce. So while the trout are 

 sizzling we will explore the house. 



We mount the spiral staircase in the 

 tower, its arched roof and rose-bricked 

 walls so clean and clear-cut, they might 

 have been fashioned only yesterday by 

 skilled workmen, to whom bricklaying 

 was a fine art. Here are the bedrooms, 

 large and airy. Across their ceilings 

 mighty oak beams, joined and clamped 

 and buttressed. The open fireplaces are 

 lined with quaint-figured tiles. Doubt- 



