Thirty-seven
private addresses
under one roof.
Each room keeps the bones of its century: parquet that grumbles at six, shutters that exhale at noon, water that arrives warm by request and slow by tradition.
Suite Azur
A corner of the second floor with two casement balconies, a Carrara bath beside the window, and the kind of late-afternoon light that turns the curtains the colour of marmalade.
Suite Jardin
On the ground floor, doors open into the cypress walk. A reading nook, a roll-top desk, and a marble fireplace lit on request from October to April.
Chambre Cyprès
Six rooms named after the cypresses that line the inner courtyard. A double bed, a walnut writing desk, and a window that opens to the slow shade of the trees.
Petite Mer
Six small rooms tucked into the third floor. A daybed of Belgian linen, an honesty bar of fig liqueur, and a slim balcony where two coffees fit politely.
A few small
non-negotiables.
Belgian linen sheets · changed daily, ironed by hand.
Garden flowers, refreshed at dawn by Madame Rose.
Coffee delivered before you ask. Tea, the moment you do.
Phones quietly hidden in a velvet drawer.
Children welcomed with a smaller robe & a louder breakfast.
Pets welcomed; biscuits provided; Bertrand approves.
When are you
arriving?
Bertrand will hold a key. Léa will buy an extra fish. The garden will know to bloom by Tuesday.