Our group has checked into an inn in a fishing village, and some go to the beach, some ramble the town, and I'm taking off to sketch on the headlands, and anyone who wants to join me is welcome.
In the evening, as we gather in the inn's dining room to share experiences, a well-dressed gentleman comes by. Oh, we are the Americans he's heard about? He lives in the mansion near the town, won't we do him the honor of being his guests tomorrow night? We accept, enthusiastically.
We dress in the best we brought with us, and the evening is lavish. Wonderful food, good conversation, our host and his household are gracious and welcoming. He tells us legends of Ys, a sort of French Atlantis, a city off the coast that was flooded when a mysterious stranger convinced the princess Dahut to open the gates of the dike that kept the sea away from the city. That stranger was the Devil, and the opened gates destroyed the city...
Our host invites us into the parlor where he plays the piano for us...
Strange visions flood our minds; we all see sunken cities, artifacts of the long-deceased lying around, the skeletons of ancient ships, artifacts from all over the ancient world. It's a strange, surreal experience.
Would we like to go on his yacht in the morning? Why, yes, of course, we all say....and what adventures await us?
Megaliths at Carnac, in Brittany. |
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