"Women alone know how to render such impressions," I said. "You would be the despair of a poet, dear soul that I divine so well!" "The extreme heat of mid-day casts into those three expressions of the infinite an all-powerful color," said Pauline, smiling. "I can here conceive the poesy and the passion of the East." "And I can perceive its despair." "Yes," she said, "this dune is a cloister,--a sublime cloister." We now heard the hurried steps of our guide; he had put on his Sunday clothes. We addressed a few ordinary words to him; he seemed to think that our mood had changed, and with that reserve that comes of misery, he kept silence. Though from time to time we pressed each other's hands that we might feel the mutual flow of our ideas and impressions, we walked along for half an hour in silence, either because we were oppressed by the heat which rose in waves from the burning sands, or because the difficulty of walking absorbed our attention. Like children, we held each other's hands; in fact, we could hardly have made a dozen steps had we walked arm in arm. The path which led to Batz was not so much as traced. A gust of wind was enough to efface all tracks left by the hoofs of horses or the wheels of carts; but the practised eye of our guide could recognize by scraps of mud or the dung of cattle the road that crossed that desert, now descending towards the sea, then rising landward according to either the fall of the ground or the necessity of rounding some breastwork of rock. By mid-day, we were only half way. "We will stop to rest over there," I said, pointing to a promontory of rocks sufficiently high to make it probable we should find a grotto. The fisherman, who heard me and saw the direction in which I pointed, shook his head, and said,-- "Some one is there. All those who come from the village of Batz to Croisic, or from Croisic to Batz, go round that place; they never pass it." These words were said in a low voice, and seemed to indicate a mystery. "Who is he,--a robber, a murderer?" Our guide answered only by drawing a deep breath, which redoubled our curiosity. "But if we pass that way, would any harm happen to us?" "Oh, no!" "Will you go with us?" "No, monsieur." "We will go, if you assure us there is no danger." "I do not say so," replied the fisherman, hastily. "I only say that he who is there will say nothing to you, and do you no harm. He never so much as moves from his place." "Who is it?" "A man." Never were two syllables pronounced in so tragic a manner. At this moment we were about fifty feet from the rocky eminence, which extended a long reef into the sea. Our guide took a path which led him round the base of the rock. We ourselves continued our way over it; but Pauline took my arm. Our guide hastened his steps in order to meet us on the other side, where the two paths came together again.