There’s only one Averoigne story in volume 2 but it’s a great one, very evocative:

(A Rendezvous in Averoigne)

« Somewhere in this wood, there was the ruinous and haunted Château des Fausseflammes; and , also, there was a double tomb within which the Sieur Hugh du Malinbois and his chatelaine, who were notorious for sorcery in their time, had lain unconsecrated for more than two hundred years. Of these, and their phantoms, there were grisly tales; and there were stories of loupgarous and goblins, of fays and devils and vampires that infested Averoigne.

[…]

Gérard surveyed his environment with a cautious eye; and the more he looked the less he liked it; for some new and disagreeable detail was manifest at every glance. There were moving lights in the wood that vanished if he eyed them intently; there were drowned faces in the tarn that came and went like bubbles before he could discern their features. And, peering across the lake, he wondered why he had not seen the many-turreted castle of hoary stone whose neared walls were based in the dead waters. It was so grey and still and vasty, that it seemed to have stood for incomputable ages between the stagnant tarn and the equally stagnant heavens. it was ancienter than the world, it was older than the light; it was coeval with fear and darkness; and a horror dwelt upon it and crept unseen but palpable along its bastions. »

[…]

« Raoul », said the troubadour a little sternly,  » you must gather all your strength and come with me. Amid the gloomy walls that surrond us, the somber ancient halls, the high towers, and the heavy bastions, there is but one thing that veritably exists; and all the rest is a fabric of illusion. We must find the reality whereof I speak, and deal with it like true and valiant Christians. Come, we will now search the castle ere the lord and chatelaine shall awaken from their vampire lethargy. »

He led the way along the devious corridors with a swiftness that betokened much forethought. He had reconstructed in his mind the hoary pile of battlements and turrets as he had seen them the previous day, and he felt that the great donjon, being the center and stronghold of the edifice, might well be the place which he sought. With the sharpened staff in his hand, with Raoul lagging bloodlessly at his heels, he passed the doors of many secret rooms, the many windows that gave on the blindness of an inner court, and came at last to the lower story of the donjon-keep. »