d lead
in the direction of the hotel I was hoping to reach; but my perplexity was
at length relieved by the advent of a tall youth whose cadaverous features
were shown up by the street lamp overhead. He gave his directions clearly
enough, but although I followed them carefully right up the hill past the
cathedral, I began to think that I had overshot the mark, when another
passer-by appeared in the silent street. I found that I was within a few
yards of the hotel; but on hurrying forward, I found to my astonishment,
that the whole building was completely shut up and no light appeared even
within the courtyard. As I had passed the cathedral eleven reverbrating
notes had echoed over the town, and it seemed as though Coutances had
retired earlier on this night of all nights in order that I might learn
to travel at more rational hours. Going inside the courtyard, my anxiety
was suddenly relieved by seeing the light of a candle in a stable on the
further side; a man was putting up a horse, and he at once volunteered
to arouse some one who would find a bedroom. After some shouting to the
gallery above, a maid appeared, and a few minutes afterwards mine host
himself, clad in a long flannel night robe and protecting a flickering
candle-flame with his hand, appeared at a doorway. His long grey beard
gave him a most venerable aspect. The note of welcome in his cheery
voice was unmistakable and soon the maid who had spoken from the balcony
had shown the way up a winding circular staircase to a welcome exchange
to the shelter of a haystack which I had begun to fear would be my only
resting-place for the night.

In the morning, the Hotel d'Angleterre proved to be a most picturesque
old hostelry. Galleries ran round three sides of the courtyard, and the
circular staircase was enclosed in one of those round towers that are
such a distinctive feature of the older type of French inn.

The long main street does not always look deserted and in daylight it
appeared as sunny and cheerful as one expects to find the chief
thoroughfare of a thriving French town. Coutances stands on such a bold
hill that the street, almost of necessity, drops precipitously, and the
cathedral which ranks with the best in France, stands out boldly from all
points of view. It was principally built in the thirteenth century, but a
church which had stood in its place two centuries before, had been
consecrated by Bishop Geoffrey de Montbray in 1056, in the presence o