Over Strand and Field: A Record of Travel through Brittany

ring with sleep, we got into a boat along with a white horse, two drummers, the same one-eyed gendarme and the same soldier who, this time, however, did not lecture anybody. As drunk as a

Viewed from the side of the missing eye, with his three-cornered hat, his sabre and his yellow gloves, the gendarme presented one of the sorriest aspects of human life. Besides, there is something so essentially

ys. A cabin-boy stood at the helm singing. We could not catch the words, but it was some slow, monotonous lay which neither rose nor fell and was repeated again a

nd pulled at a bundle of hay. The sailors, with folded arm

if Plouharnel might be. However, after a while we arrived there. But when we did, we were confronted by the ocean, for we

owards Quiberon; he would be back directly and return again the next day. He is the guest of the coast; he passes in the morning and again at night. His life is spe

for a few minutes, then lift

What a picture! Callot would probably have repro

ced in the sea in order to shorten the route by cutting th

ched in the streets, and in the gardens enclosed

nd covered with rags and vermin. The sun shone on his dilapidated garments and on his purple skin; it was almost black and