When she reached the Calvary, instead of turning to the right, she
turned to the left and lost herself in coal-yards; she had to retrace
her steps; some people she spoke to advised her to hasten. She walked
helplessly around the harbour filled with vessels, and knocked against
hawsers. Presently the ground sloped abruptly, lights flitted to and
fro, and she thought all at once that she had gone mad when she saw some
horses in the sky.

Others, on the edge of the dock, neighed at the sight of the ocean. A
derrick pulled them up in the air, and dumped them into a boat, where
passengers were bustling about among barrels of cider, baskets of cheese
and bags of meal; chickens cackled, the captain swore and a cabin-boy
rested on the railing, apparently indifferent to his surroundings.
Felicite, who did not recognise him, kept shouting: "Victor!" He
suddenly raised his eyes, but while she was preparing to rush up to him,
they withdrew the gangplank.

The packet, towed by singing women, glided out of the harbour. Her hull
squeaked and the heavy waves beat up against her sides. The sail had
turned and nobody was visible;--and on the ocean, silvered by the light
of the moon, the vessel formed a black spot that grew dimmer and dimmer,
and finally disappeared.

When Felicite passed the Calvary again, she felt as if she must entrust
that which was dearest to her to the Lord; and for a long while she
prayed, with uplifted eyes and a face wet with tears. The city was
sleeping; some customs officials were taking the air; and the water kept
pouring through the holes of the dam with a deafening roar. The town
clock struck two.