I had the ugly band routed by Claude and the lighthouse keeper and as they took to throwing stones at us I pointed my gun at the little troop. They fled howling. Only two boys, of six and ten years of age, stayed. We did not take any notice of them and I installed myself a little farther on, sheltered by a rock which kept the wind away. The two boys followed. Claude and the lighthouse keeper were on the lookout to see that the boys did not come back. They were stooping down over the extreme point of the rock which was above our heads. They seemed peaceful, when suddenly my young maid jumped up: “Horrors! Madame! Horrors! They are throwing lice down on us!” And, in fact, the two little good-for-nothings had been for the last hour searching for all the vermin they could find on themselves and throwing them on us. I had the two little beggars seized and they got a well-deserved correction. There was a _crevasse_ which was called the “Enfer du Plogoff.” I had a wild desire to go down this _crevasse_, but the guardian dissuaded me, constantly giving as objections the danger of slipping and his fear of responsibility in case of accident. I persisted, nevertheless, in my intention, and after a thousand promises, in addition to a certificate to testify that notwithstanding the supplications of the guardian and the certainty of the danger that I ran, I had persisted all the same, etc., and after having made a small present of ten _louis_ to the brave man, I obtained the facilities for descending the “Enfer du Plogoff”—that is to say a wide belt to which a strong rope was fastened. I buckled this belt round my waist, which was then so slender (forty-three centimeters) that it was necessary to make additional holes in order to fasten it. Then the guardian put on each of my hands a wooden shoe, the sole of which was bordered with big nails jutting out two centimeters. I stared at these wooden shoes and asked for an explanation before putting them on. “Well,” said the guardian Lucas, “when I let you down, as you are no fatter than a herringbone, you will get shaken about in the _crevasse_ and will risk breaking your bones; while if you have the _sabots_ on your hands you can protect yourself against the walls by putting out your arms to the right and the left, according as you are shaken up against them. I do not say that you will not have a few—bangs—but that is your own fault, you _will_ go. Now, listen, my little lady: when you are at the bottom, on the rock in the middle, mind you don’t slip, for that is the most dangerous of all; if you fell in the water I might pull the rope, for sure, but I don’t answer for anything. In that cursed whirlpool of water you might be caught between two stones and it would be no use for me to pull—I should break the rope and that would be all.”