The sailors, with folded arms, looked absently at the sails and smiled a far-away smile.
* * * * * So we journeyed on without speaking a word and as best we could, without reaching the edge of the bay, where it looked as if Plouharnel might be.
However, after a while we arrived there.

But when we did, we were confronted by the ocean, for we had followed the right side of the coast instead of the left, and were forced to turn back and go over a part of the route.
A muffled sound was heard.

A bell tinkled and a hat appeared.

It was the Auray post.

Again the same man, the same horse, the same mail-bag.