The trip was gay, thanks to Maurice's nonsense. Modern painter, cosmopolitan, elegant, and cultivated gentleman, he could still become frolicsome and frivolous with nonsense in happy company.
M. Darbois, ordinarily so quiet, laughed at his antics till the tears came, while Mme. Darbois smiled that pleasant smile that had first long ago appealed to François's heart. As to Mlle. Frahender, the artist's wit fairly made her dizzy. As at Brussels, she soon gave up trying to follow him, for at the moment when she thought she had caught the trend of his humour he had already branched off into another anecdote, this time serious, and her laugh would come too late. So she tried to read the names of the little stations flying past, but the speed of the train was so great that, like Maurice's anecdotes, she only got as far as the first syllable. She closed her eyes and slept.
They changed trains at Auray about six in the morning. The young people took charge of the luggage while Maurice went to make sure that the portmanteau with his canvas and paints was securely on the right train. With his mind at rest, he joined them at the little buffet, where they were having shrimps, pink as roses, fresh eggs, coffee and the little cakes of the countryside.
"This way for Quiberon," called out the guard. And the train carried the whole family away to its next stage.
When Esperance breathed the life-giving breath of the sea, when she could distinguish the green line of ocean beyond the trees, she clapped her hands with ecstasy. She became a guide for Genevieve, explaining to her the conformation of Carnac, and recounting with pretty fancy the legends of the country they were passing through.
At last the train stopped at Quiberon. They stopped at the Hotel de France to speak to the Proprietress, Mme. Le Dantec, and get a picnic dinner from her to take with them. The boat, the Soulacroup, was filling the air with its second whistle, so they had to hurry along. The tide was not yet full, so they had to climb down the slimy quay, slippery with trodden seaweed, shiny with fish scales. The boat was taking on board a dozen red hogs that snorted mightily. Several women with well-laden baskets settled themselves in the fore part of the vessel, using the baskets as a barricade between themselves and the pigs. Our travellers settled themselves as well as possible, which was not well at all, on the little bridge under an awning. However, Esperance found it all delightful.
The trip was rather rough and uncomfortable, but most of the company made the best of it. Mlle. Frahender grew pale and ill, and her hair flew about in the most comic disarray. Cosily ensconced in a corner, Maurice sketched the various attitudes his companions assumed with every antic of the lightly-laden, wave-tossed Soulacroup. Hunched up on the seat, Esperance clung to the rigging. Genevieve clutched at her when a wave pitched the boat too far over. The others, well muffled up, waited in silence. Jean Perliez sighted the shore continually with his glasses, wishing it ever nearer so that his impatient idol might soon be safe on shore again.
In due course the port of Palais came in view. The Soulacroup's whistle shrieked through the air and in a quarter of an hour more they landed. First the red pigs were taken off, tottering even on solid land, no doubt brooding over the evils they had just passed through.
Maurice was enthusiastic when he caught a good view of the little port of Palais, filled with a hundred little boats lined with blue nets. The tuna boats carried from their ropes and around their sides long, stiff silver tunas, so bright in the sun's rays that they hurt the eyes.
"Oh! Do look," cried Esperance.