We may well admire some of these handsome Granvillaises, living their
free life by the sea, earning less in the day, generally, than our
Staffordshire pit girls, but living much more enviable lives. Here they
are by hundreds, scattered over the beach in the early morning, and
afterwards crowding into the market-place; driving hard bargains for the
produce of their sea-farms, and--with rather shrill and unpronounceable
ejaculations and many most winning smiles--handing over their shining
wares. It is all for the Paris market they will tell you, and they may
also tell you (if you win their confidence) that they, too, are one day
for Paris.

Let us leave the old women to do the best bargaining, and picture to the
reader a bright figure that we once saw upon this shining shore, a
Norman maiden, about eighteen years of age, without shoes or stockings;
a picture of health and beauty bronzed by the sun.[25] This young
creature who had spent her life by the sea and amongst her own people,
was literally overflowing with happiness, she could not contain the half
of it, she imparted it to everyone about her (unconsciously, and that
was its sweetness); she could not strictly be called handsome, and she
might be considered very ignorant; but she bloomed with freshness, she
knew neither ill health nor _ennui_, and happiness was a part of her
nature.

This charming 'aphrodite piscatrix' is stalwart and strong (she can swim
a mile with ease), she has carried her basket and nets since sunrise,
and now at eight o'clock on this summer's morning sits down on the
rocks, makes a quick breakfast of potage, plumes herself a little, and
commences knitting. She does not stay long on the beach, but before
leaving, makes a slight acquaintance with the strangers, and evinces a