"It is high at four o'clock--a spring tide, and the wind in the
north-west--not standing room on the shore against the cliff for a
man from here to Glainval."

At high tide the waves beat against the towering cliff all along
this grim coast, and a man standing on the turf may not recognize
his son on the rocks below, while the human voice can only span the
distance in calmest weather. There are spaces of three and four
miles between the gaps in the great and inaccessible bluffs. An
evil lee-shore to have under one's quarter--one of the waste places
of the world which Nature has set apart for her own use. When
Nature speaks it is with no uncertain voice.

"There is old Loisette," shouted the cure. "He may have gone to bed
sober."

"There is no reason to suppose it," shouted the man in reply. "No,
my father, if there is aught to be done, you and I must do it."

What with the wind and the flannel ear-flaps of the sou'wester, it
was hard to make one's self heard, and the two faces almost touched-
-the unbeliever who knew so little, and the priest who knew not only
books but men. They made their way to the little quay, or, rather,
the few yards of sea-wall that protect the houses at the corner of
the street. But here they could not stand, and were forced to
retire to the lee side of the Hotel de la Plage, which, as all know,
stands at the corner, with two timorous windows turned seaward, and
all the rest seeking the comfort of the street.