A little boat had just approached, overladen with sardines, and soon a silver shower was falling on the hard stones of the quay. It was a beautiful sight, and the excitement of the Parisians amused the jolly fishermen mightily.
François Darbois led his party to the carriage that was waiting, a brake with six seats, drawn by two farm horses. The farmer on the box seat was beaming with pride at the return of his patrons.
It is more than an hour's journey from Palais to Penhouet, but the road seemed short, on account of its variety of view. Leaving Palais, there was first of all the ropemakers rolling long strands of hemp with their fingers almost bleeding over the task. They had chosen a charming spot; shaded by a little orchard they worked and sang the ropemaker's song, with a lingering, dragging melody. And then, after passing a little wood, the island itself came into view. It was covered with gorse, like a series of Oriental carpets dotted with the gold of the broom in bloom, woven with rose heather, and red heather, and purple heather. The bright green foliage of the wild roses "appeared" like arabesques. The sky, hanging low, bluish green, without a cloud, seemed as a silken film stretched to filter the heat of the sun. At a turn in the road the plain disappeared to give place to little hills, which rise from every side to defend from wind and rain the beautiful golden wheat, with its heads drooping under the weight of the heavy grain.
"Ah!" cried Esperance joyfully, standing up in the carriage, "I can see there is the farm just ahead."
The road dropped abruptly so they had to put on the brakes in spite of
Esperance's impatience.
And the two young girls, clinging to each other, saw the little red-roofed farm house enlarge, as they grew nearer. At last the carriage stopped, and the farmer's wife came forward to meet them with her three children. At twenty-six she looked forty, like most peasant women exhausted by work and child-bearing. Madame Darbois caressed the children, who had just been having their ears washed and their hair combed vigorously to prepare them for the advent of their master's family.
The farm house was long, and close to the earth, being only one story high. The front door gave directly on the same level into the dining-room, a large room which also served as the salon or parlour, with a bright kitchen to one side, where shining casseroles spoke of the order of the proprietors; to the left, was a large bedroom, sacred to the Darbois themselves. Close to the kitchen was a very comfortable room for Marguerite and the other maid. A wooden staircase led to six rooms above, which were very airy, and all hung with bright chintzes. Mlle. Frahender was installed next to Esperance, with Genevieve on the other side. The two young men were sent to what was known as the "Five Divisions of the World," being composed of five cabins, Europe, Asia, Africa, America and Oceania. These five rooms were always reserved for guests, were built of pitchpine, and their windows gave directly on the sea.
Farther away, at the edge of the fields, were the farmer's quarters, with a long pond full of reeds and iris, hard by and adjoining the pond a pigeon house with sixteen white pigeons which were very dear to Esperance. She loved to see them fly across the water, like pretty messengers disporting between two skies.
After a frugal dinner the young people climbed the dills as far as Penhouet. The bay was surrounded on all sides by high rocks, behind which were hidden smaller rocks, covered with mosses, and mussels; and on the right the cliff hollowed out into a dark cave facing the land. This little beach, cheerful by day, grew mysterious with the fall of night. Esperance could point out Quiberon, outlined across the way between land and sky like a ribbon of light. The little lighthouse, high on the plateau above the farm, sent out its long lunar arms regularly to sweep the country and search the sea.