"But see,"I said,"how the winds from the sea bend or destroy everything.There are no trees.Fragments of wreckage or old vessels that are broken up are sold to those who can afford to buy;for costs of transportation are too heavy to allow them to use the firewood with which Brittany abounds.This region is fine for none but noble souls;persons without sentiments could never live here;poets and barnacles alone should inhabit it.All that ever brought a population to this rock were the salt-marshes and the factory which prepares the salt.On one side the sea;on the other,sand;above,illimitable space."We had now passed the town,and had reached the species of desert which separates Croisic from the village of Batz.Imagine,my dear uncle,a barren track of miles covered with the glittering sand of the seashore.Here and there a few rocks lifted their heads;you might have thought them gigantic animals couchant on the dunes.Along the coast were reefs,around which the water foamed and sparkled,giving them the appearance of great white roses,floating on the liquid surface or resting on the shore.Seeing this barren tract with the ocean on one side,and on the other the arm of the sea which runs up between Croisic and the rocky shore of Guerande,at the base of which lay the salt marshes,denuded of vegetation,I looked at Pauline and asked her if she felt the courage to face the burning sun and the strength to walk through sand.
"I have boots,"she said."Let us go,"and she pointed to the tower of Batz,which arrested the eye by its immense pile placed there like a pyramid;but a slender,delicately outlined pyramid,a pyramid so poetically ornate that the imagination figured in it the earliest ruin of a great Asiatic city.
We advanced a few steps and sat down upon the portion of a large rock which was still in the shade.But it was now eleven o'clock,and the shadow,which ceased at our feet,was disappearing rapidly.