for seashells. The outgoing tide exposed starfish and sea-urchins,
and the children tried to catch the flakes of foam which the wind
blew away. The sleepy waves lapping the sand unfurled themselves
along the shore that extended as far as the eye could see, but
where land began, it was limited by the downs which separated it
from the "Swamp," a large meadow shaped like a hippodrome. When
they went home that way, Trouville, on the slope of a hill below,
grew larger and larger as they advanced, and, with all its houses
of unequal height, seemed to spread out before them in a sort of
giddy confusion.

When the heat was too oppressive, they remained in their rooms.
The dazzling sunlight cast bars of light between the shutters. Not
a sound in the village, not a soul on the sidewalk. This silence
intensified the tranquillity of everything. In the distance, the
hammers of some calkers pounded the hull of a ship, and the sultry
breeze brought them an odour of tar.

The principal diversion consisted in watching the return of the
fishing-smacks. As soon as they passed the beacons, they began to
ply to windward. The sails were lowered to one third of the masts,
and with their foresails swelled up like balloons they glided over
the waves and anchored in the middle of the harbour. Then they
crept up alongside of the dock and the sailors threw the quivering
fish over the side of the boat; a line of carts was waiting for
them, and women with white caps sprang forward to receive the
baskets and embrace their men-folk.

One day, one of them spoke to Félicité, who, after a little while,
returned to the house gleefully. She had found one of her sisters,