HARDQUANONNE.


The mist was deformed by all sorts of inequalities, bulging out at once
on every point of the horizon, as if invisible mouths were busy puffing
out the bags of wind. The formation of the clouds was becoming ominous.
In the west, as in the east, the sky's depths were now invaded by the
blue cloud: it advanced in the teeth of the wind. These contradictions
are part of the wind's vagaries.

The sea, which a moment before wore scales, now wore a skin--such is the
nature of that dragon. It was no longer a crocodile: it was a boa. The
skin, lead-coloured and dirty, looked thick, and was crossed by heavy
wrinkles. Here and there, on its surface, bubbles of surge, like
pustules, gathered and then burst. The foam was like a leprosy. It was
at this moment that the hooker, still seen from afar by the child,
lighted her signal.

A quarter of an hour elapsed.

The skipper looked for the doctor: he was no longer on deck. Directly
the skipper had left him, the doctor had stooped his somewhat ungainly
form under the hood, and had entered the cabin; there he had sat down
near the stove, on a block. He had taken a shagreen ink-bottle and a
cordwain pocket-book from his pocket; he had extracted from his
pocket-book a parchment folded four times, old, stained, and yellow; he
had opened the sheet, taken a pen out of his ink-case, placed the
pocket-book flat on his knee, and the parchment on the pocket-book; and
by the rays of the lantern, which was lighting the cook, he set to