a keeper. Well, if it isn’t a lodge, what can it be? Whatever happens I must go in and have a look. I can say that I have lost my way. No doubt they will offer me a cup of tea, and Frate and I will eat the box-lunch that I have brought.
With this in mind I walk round to the front of the house. Until now my sense of sight seems to have submerged my sense of hearing, but suddenly I realize that there is a stream nearby. The gurgling sound that I heard earlier must have come from near here. When I reach the front, I find that, like the rest of the house, it directly faces the forest. There is one peculiar thing about it, however: it is far more luxuriously built than the other parts of the biding. Four fine stone steps lead up to the front door. This stone is far older than the reminder of the house and it is thickly overgrown with moss.
The house faces south and beneath the front window a row of small red roses grows along the wall. They stand there with a proprietary air. The flowers are in full bloom and I have the impression that they blossom regardless of the season. And that is not all. From under the clump of roses flows a stream of water, the width of a sash, glittering brightly in the sun. At first glance it looks as if the water were flowing out of the house itself. My retainer Frate starts lapping the water avidly; he evidently finds it delicious.
Now I quietly walk up the steps. I can clearly hear the sound of my shoes against the stone, but they do not really disturb the quiet of the surrounding scene. Playfully I mutter to myself, “I am now visiting the house of a hermit, or perhaps of a magician.” I look round and see Frate standing there nonchalantly with his pink tongue hanging out and his tail wagging.
In the Western manner I knock on the Western-style door. There is no answer. I have to knock again. Still no answer. This time I call out, “May I come in?” There is not the slightest reaction. Is the owner out, I wonder, or is the house completely unoccupied? I am overcome by a rather weird feeling. I go to the front window where the roses are growing—for some
