_St. Gervais_
struck three; when, starting from my reverie, I knocked at the hall-door,
and was announced to the family, (who had just risen from dinner) above
stairs. A circle of five gentlemen would have alarmed a very nervous
visitor; but the Count, addressing me in a semi-British and semi-Gallic
phraseology, immediately dissipated my fears. In five minutes he was made
acquainted with the cause of this apparent intrusion.

Nothing could exceed his amiable frankness. The very choicest wine was
circulated at his table; of which I partook in a more decided manner on the
following day--when he was so good as to invite me to dine. When I touched
upon his favourite theme of Norman Antiquities, he almost shouted aloud the
name of INGULPH,--that "cher ami de Guillaume le Conquerant!" I was
unwilling to trespass long; but I soon found the advantage of making use of
the name of "Monsieur Mouton--l'estimable Cure de la Sainte Trinite."

[Illustration]

In a stroll to Guibray, towards sunset the next day, I passed through a
considerable portion of the Count's property, about 300 acres, chiefly of
pasture land. The evening was really enchanting; and through the branches
of the coppice wood the sun seemed to be setting in a bed of molten gold.
Our conversation was animated and incessant. In the old and curious church
of Guibray, the Count shewed us his family pew with the care and
particularity of an old country squire. Meanwhile Mr. Lewis was making a
hasty copy of one of the very singular ornaments--representing _Christ
bearing his cross_--which was suspended against the walls of the altar of a
side chapel. You have it here. It is frightfully barbarous, and
characteristic of the capricious style of art which frequently prevailed
about the year 1520: but the wonder is, how such a wretched performance
could obtain admission into the sanctuary where it was deposited. It was
however the pious gift of the vestry woman--who shewed us the interior--and
who had religiously rescued it, during the Revolution, from the demolition
of a neighbouring abbey. The eastern end of this church is perhaps as old
as any ecclesiastical edifice in Normandy;[171] and its exterior (to which
we could only approach by wading through rank grass as high as our knees)
is one of the most interesting of its kind. During our admiration of all
that was curious in this venerable edifice, we were struck by our old
friends, the _penitents_,--busy in making confessi