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One evening after much journeying a traveller from far countries came, as the lights were being kindled in many a window, to the summit of a hill amidst the houses of a goodly hamlet. At that time the desire of new sights is least, even in one whose heart is that of an explorer, and then even such a wayfarer turns his thoughts rather to supper and to rest and the telling of tales before the time of bed and sleep is come. And the traveller thought, "The hour of rest is at hand, and though I know not even the name of this fair seeming town upon a little hill here I will seek rest and lodging and go no further til tomorrow, nor go even then perchance, for its breezes have a good savour. To me it has the air of holding many secrets of old and wonderful and beautiful things in its treasuries and noble places and in the hearts of those who dwell within its walls."

 

Stepping as if by chance, he turned aside down a winding lane, till, a little down the slope, his eye was arrested by a dwelling whose many windows shone forth with a most warm and delicious light, as of hearts content within. Then his heart yearned for kind company and impelled by a great longing he turned aside at this cottage door. At his knock the door was opened in welcome and at his inquiry it was told to him that this house was called Mar Vanwa Tyalieva or the Cottage of Lost Play.

 
 
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