There was hardly any wind; the blue sea was calm and the narrow track the rudder ploughed in the waters could be seen for a long time.

The old fellow was talkative; he spoke of the priests, whom he disliked, of meat, which he thought was a good thing to eat even on fast days, of the work he had had when he was in the navy, and of the shots he had received when he was a customs officer....

The boat glided along slowly, the line followed us and the end of the _tape-cul_ hung in the water.
The mile we had to walk in order to go from Saint-Pierre to Quiberon was quickly covered, in spite of a hilly and sandy road, and the sun, which made our shoulders smart beneath the straps of our bags, and a number of "men-hirs" that were scattered along the route..