Others were
playing with their wives and children. Those green dragons, otherwise
called custom-house officers, were tranquilly smoking their pipes.
There was something foreign, perhaps oriental, about the scene; at any
rate a Parisian suddenly transported thither would never have supposed
himself in France. The baron and baroness, who had made a pretext of
coming to see how the salt harvest throve, were on the jetty, admiring
the silent landscape, where the sea alone sounded the moan of her
waves at regular intervals, where boats and vessels tracked a vast
expanse, and the girdle of green earth richly cultivated, produced an
effect that was all the more charming because so rare on the desolate
shores of ocean.
"Well, my friends, I wanted to see the marshes of Guerande once more
before I die," said the baron to the /paludiers/, who had gathered
about the entrance of the marshes to salute him.
"Can a Guenic die?" said one of them.
Just then the party from Les Touches arrived through the narrow
pathway. The marquise walked first alone; Calyste and Camille followed
arm-in-arm.
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