dwelling
gone. Greatly bewildered, he inquired for his father by name. An old
greybeard replied.

"I have heard of him," he said. "He lived in the days when my
grandfather's grandfather was but a boy, and now he sleeps in the
churchyard yonder."

Only then did Yvon realize that his visit to his sister had been one,
not of days, but of generations!

_The Seigneur with the Horse's Head_

Famous among all peoples is the tale of the husband surrounded by
mystery--bespelled in animal form, like the Prince in the story of
Beauty and the Beast, nameless, as in that of Lohengrin, or unbeheld
of his spouse, as in the myth of Cupid and Psyche. Among uncivilized
peoples it is frequently forbidden to the wife to see her husband's
face until some time after marriage, and the belief that ill-luck will
befall one or both should this law be disregarded runs through
primitive story, being perhaps reminiscent of a time when the man of
an alien or unfriendly tribe crept to his wife's lodge or hut under
cover of darkness and returned ere yet the first glimmer of dawn might
betray him to the men of her people. The story which follows, however,
deals with the theme of the enchanted husband whose wife must not
speak to anyone until her first child receives the sacrament of
baptism, and is, perhaps, unique of its kind.

There lived at one time in the old chateau of Kerouez, in the commune
of Loguivy-Plougras, a rich and powerful seigneur, whose only sorrow
was the dreadful deformity of his son, who had come into the world
with a horse's head. He was naturally kept out of sight as much as
possible, but when he had attained the age of eighteen years he told
his mother one day that he desired to marry, and requested her to
interview a farmer in the vicinity who had three pretty young
daughters, in order that she might arrange a match with one of them.

The good lady did as she was requested, not without much embarrassment
and many qualms of conscience, and after conversing upon every
imaginable subject, at length gently broke the object of her visit to
the astonished farmer. The poor man was at first horrified, but little
by little the lady worked him into a good humour, so that at last he
consented to ask his daughters if any one of them would agree to marry
the afflicted young lord. The two elder girls indignantly refused the
offer, but when it was made plain to them that she who espoused the
seigneur would one day be chatelaine of t