Léon, and its beautiful church, and the charming Countess who had
exercised such rare hospitality and taken us to fairy-land.

The vision faded as we turned our backs upon the sea and the crowd and
entered upon our return journey. The zigzag was passed and the houses,
where now we looked down the chimneys and now into the cellars. In due
time we came to the high road. It was crowded with vehicles all waiting
the end of the races and the return of the multitude. Apparently it was
"first come, first served," for we had our choice of all--a veritable
embarras de choix. It was made and we started. Very soon, on the other
side the river, we came in sight of our little auberge, _A la halte des
Pêcheurs_, where on a memorable occasion we had taken refuge from a
second deluge. And there, at its door, stood Madame Mirmiton, anxiously
looking down the road for the return of her husband from the Regatta.
Whether he had recovered from his sprain, or had found a friendly
conveyance to give him a seat, did not appear.

We went our way; the river separated us from the inn and there was no
ferry at hand. Many like ourselves were returning; there was no want of
movement and animation. It was not a picturesque crowd, for there were
no costumes, and the _bourgeoisie_ of Morlaix are not more interesting
than others of their class.

At last loomed upon us the great viaduct, and a train rolled over as we
rolled under it. The vessels in the little port had mounted their flags
and looked gay, in honour of the occasion. We entered Morlaix for the
last time, for we were to leave on the morrow. Madame Hellard was not
taking the air; she and Monsieur were enjoying a moment's repose in the
bureau. They now invariably greeted us as _habitués_ of the house.