A bridge spans the latter and on this bridge is a mill; beyond the meadow is a hill, which we started to climb nimbly, when suddenly we saw, by a ray of light, a beautiful yellow and black salamander creeping along the edge of a ditch with its slender tail dragging in the dust and undulating with every motion of its speckled body.

It had come from its retreat under a big stone covered with moss, and was hunting insects in the rotten trunks of old oak-trees.
A pavement of uneven cobblestones echoed beneath our feet, and a street stretched out before us.

We had arrived in Daoulas.

There was light enough to enable us to distinguish a square sign swinging on an iron rod on one of the houses.

We should have recognised the inn even without the sign, as houses, like men, have their professions stamped on their faces.