by W. Hughes, Esq.
Originally published in Ainsworth's Magazine: A Miscellany of Romance (Chapman and Hall) vol.12 #4 (1847).
There was formerly at Ponthou a house of entertainment called the "White Inn," on account of its colour. The innkeepers were honest, steady people, who kept their Easter every year, and no one had occasion to reckon the score after them. Travellers made a point of staying at the White Inn, and all the horse, acquainted with that road knew so well the door of the stable, that they always stopped there of their own accord.
The Diberm-Eost, or autumn, had begun to make the days sad and short. One evening, when Floc'h, the landlord, was at the door, a traveller, who had the appearance of a man of some importance, and mounted on a fine horse, which was not of the breed of that country, stopped at the threshold, put his hand to his hat, and said to the innkeeper,
"I wish to have supper and a chamber to myself."
Floc'h, at first, drew his pipe out of his mouth, then his hat off his head, and answered—
"God bless you, master,[1] you shall have supper eye but as for a room to yourself, we cannot give it to you; we have already above there six muleteers, who are returning from Redou, and they have taken the six beds of the White Inn."
The traveller then said—
"My good, honest man, do try and give me some place to rest under your roof. The dogs have their kennel, it is not right that Christians should be deprived of a place of shelter at a time like this."
"Stranger," answered Floc'h, apparently much puzzled, "I know not what to say to you, because the inn is quite full, and there remains only the red chamber."
"Very well, give it me," replied the unknown.
But the innkeeper scratched his head, and he became sad, for he could not give the red chamber to a traveller.
"Since I have held the White Inn," said he, "two men only have occupied that bed-room, and slept in it; the next morning, their hair, which had been the previous evening perfectly black, was found quite white."
The traveller looked at the landlord.
"Do the dead then return to your house, honest man?" demanded he.
"I am afraid it is so," murmured Floc'h.
"Then, by the grace of God and the Virgin make me a fire in the red chamber, and warm my bed, for I am cold."
The innkeeper did as he was commanded.
When he had supped, the traveller wished a good night to all those who were at table, and he ascended into the red chamber. Floc'h and his wife fell upon their knees, trembling, and began to pray.
Now the stranger had arrived at the place where he was to sleep, and he looked around him.
It was a large chamber of the colour of fire, with large shining blotches or stains upon the wall, so that one would have imagined that it had been recently painted with fresh blood, At the extremity there was a square bed, which was surrounded by great curtains thickly folded. The rest of the room was empty, and the wind whistled mournfully in the chimney and through the passages, like the voice of souls demanding prayers.
The traveller went upon his knees and prayed to God in a low but earnest tone. Then he laid himself down without fear, and he soon fell asleep.
But at the moment when midnight sounded at a distant church, he awoke, and he listened to the curtains gliding along the rods and opening on his right hand.
The traveller would have jumped out of bed, but his feet struck against something icy cold, and he drew himself back half frightened.
There stood before him a coffin with four wax-candles, one at each of the four corners, and over it a black pall covered with white spots or tears!
The stranger sprang to the other side of the bed; the coffin instantly presented itself there, and barred afresh the passage.
Five times he tried to escape, and five times the bier placed itself at his feet with the wax-candles and the black pall.
The traveller understood that it was the ghost of some one who had a request to make. He went upon his knees in his bed, and after making the sign of the cross,
"Who art thou?" he said. "It is a Christian who addresses thee."
A voice came from the coffin and said:
"I am a traveller assassinated here by those who kept the inn before the present occupiers. I died in a state of sin, and I burn in purgatory."
"What willest thou that I should do to relieve thee, soul in suffering?"
"I must have six masses said at the church of our Lady of Folgoät, by a priest in a black and white stole, then a pilgrimage made on my account by a Christian to our Lady of Rumengol."
"Thou shalt have thy six masses, soul in suffering! And I, who am a Christian, I will go on thy account and make a pilgrimage to-our Lady of Rumengol."
Scarcely had the traveller thus spoken, when the wax-candles were extinguished, the curtains closed of themselves, and all became silent.
The stranger passed the night in prayer.
The following morning he related all to the innkeeper, and then said to him—
"Honest fellow, I am M. de Rohan, of a noble family as any in Brittany. I shall go and make a pilgrimage to Rumengol, and pay for six masses at Folgoät. Do not be uneasy any more, the soul shall be delivered from suffering.
One month after, the red chamber had lost its horrible colour. It became white and lively as the rest, and there was not heard in it any other noise than that of the swallows which nestled in the chimney; and there was seen in it nothing besides three beds and a crucifix.
M. de Rohan had kept his word.
1. This is the usual expression of the Bretons, Mestr or Maister, according to the district.