of brilliant red brick pointed with white.  The window-frames are painted of a lively green, the woodwork is brown verging on yellow.  The roof overhangs by several feet.  A pretty gallery, with open-worked balustrade, surmounts the lower floor and projects at the centre of the facade into a veranda with glass sides.  The ground-floor has a charming salon and a dining-room, separated from each other by the landing of a staircase built of wood, designed and decorated with elegant simplicity.  The kitchen is behind the dining-room, and the corresponding room back of the salon, formerly a study, is now the bedroom of Monsieur and Madame Dumay.  On the upper floor the architect has managed to get two large bedrooms, each with a dressing-room, to which the veranda serves as a salon; and above this floor, under the eaves, which are tipped together like a couple of cards, are two servants’ rooms with mansard roofs, each lighted by a circular window and tolerably spacious.

Vilquin has been petty enough to build a high wall on the side toward the orchard and kitchen garden; and in consequence of this piece of spite, the few square feet which the lease secured to the Chalet resembled a Parisian garden.  The out-buildings, painted in keeping with the cottage, stood with their backs to the wall of the adjoining property.

The interior of this charming dwelling harmonized with its exterior.  The salon, floored entirely with iron-wood, was painted in a style that suggested the beauties of Chinese lacquer.  On black panels edged with gold, birds of every color, foliage of impossible greens, and fantastic oriental designs glowed and shimmered.  The dining-room was entirely sheathed in Northern woods carved and cut in open-work like the beautiful Russian chalets.  The little antechamber formed by the landing and the well of the staircase was painted in old oak to represent Gothic ornament.  The bedrooms, hung with chintz, were charming in their costly simplicity.  The study, where the cashier and his wife now slept, was panelled from top to bottom, on the walls and ceiling, like the cabin of a steamboat.  These luxuries of his predecessor excited Vilquin’s wrath.  He would fain have lodged his daughter and her husband in the cottage.  This desire, well known to Dumay, will presently serve to illustrate the Breton obstinacy of the latter.

The entrance to the Chalet is by a little trellised iron door, the uprights of which, ending in lance-heads, show for a few inches above the fence and its hedge.  The little garden, about as wide as the more pretentious lawn, was just now filled with flowers, roses, and dahlias of the choicest kind, and many rare products of the hot-houses, for (another Vilquinard grievance) the elegant little hot-house, a very whim of a hot-house, a hot-house representing dignity and style, belonged to the Chalet, and separated, or if you prefer, united it to the villa Vilquin.  Dumay consoled himself for the toils of business in taking care of this hot-house, whose exotic treasures were one of Modeste’s joys.  The billiard-room of the villa Vilquin, a species of gallery, formerly communicated through an immense aviary with this hot-house.  But after the building of the wall which deprived him of a view into the orchards, Dumay bricked up the door of communication.  “Wall for wall!” he said.