Nobody goes there.

You can sit down in the embrasures of the cannons and dangle your feet over the abyss.

In front of you lies the mouth of the Rance, which flows between two green hills, the coast, the islands, the rocks, and the ocean.

The sentinel marches up and down behind you, and his even footsteps echo on the sonorous stones.
One evening we remained out for a long time.

The night was beautiful, a true summer night, without a moon, but brilliant with stars and perfumed by the sea-breeze.