The view from the terrace at night is pretty—­quantities of lights twinkling about among the trees, and beyond, always on each side and in front, the thick green walls of the forest quite shutting in the quiet little place.  We are usually the last outside.  It grows cooler as the evening gets on, and I fancy it is not wise to sit out too late after the hot bath and fatigue of the day.

It is a splendid automobiling country, and every afternoon there is a goodly show of motors of all sizes and makes waiting to take their owners on some of the many interesting excursions which abound in this neighbourhood.  We have an English friend who has brought over his automobile, a capital one—­English make—­and we have been out several times with him.  The other day we went to Domfront—­a lovely road, almost all the way through woods, the forest of Audaine with its fine old trees making splendid shade.  We passed through the Etoile—­well known to all the hunting men, as it is a favourite rendezvous de chasse.  It is a lovely part of the forest, a great green space with alleys running off into the woods in all directions.  Some of them, where the ground was a little hilly, looked like beautiful green paths going straight up to the clouds.

We kept in the forest almost all the way—­as we got near Domfront the road rising all the time, quite steep at the end, which, however, made no perceptible difference in our speed.  The big auto galloped up all the hills quite smoothly and with no effort.  It was a divine view as we finally emerged from the woods—­miles of beautiful green meadows and hedges stretching away on each side and a blue line of hills in the distance.  We had been told that we could see Mont St. Michel and the sea with our glasses, but we didn’t, though the day was very clear.  Domfront is a very old walled town, with round towers and a great square donjon, perched on the top of a mountain.  A long stretch of solid wall is still there, and some of the old towers are converted into modern dwellings.  It looked out of place to see ordinary lace curtains tied back with a ribbon and pots of red geraniums in the high narrow windows, when one thought of the rough grim soldiers armed to the teeth who have stood for hours in those same windows watching anxiously for the first glimpse of an armed band appearing at the edge of the meadows.  The chateau must have been a fine feudal fortress in its time and has sheltered many great personages.  William the Conqueror, of course—­he has apparently lived in every chateau and sailed from every harbour in this part of Normandy—­Charles IX, Catherine de Medicis, and the Montgomery who killed Henri II in tournament.

[Illustration:  In Domfront some of the old towers are converted into modern dwellings.]