Let us leave the old women to do the best bargaining, and picture to the
reader a bright figure that we once saw upon this shining shore, a
Norman maiden, about eighteen years of age, without shoes or stockings;
a picture of health and beauty bronzed by the sun.[25] This young
creature who had spent her life by the sea and amongst her own people,
was literally overflowing with happiness, she could not contain the half
of it, she imparted it to everyone about her (unconsciously, and that
was its sweetness); she could not strictly be called handsome, and she
might be considered very ignorant; but she bloomed with freshness, she
knew neither ill health nor _ennui_, and happiness was a part of her
nature.
This charming 'aphrodite piscatrix' is stalwart and strong (she can swim
a mile with ease), she has carried her basket and nets since sunrise,
and now at eight o'clock on this summer's morning sits down on the
rocks, makes a quick breakfast of potage, plumes herself a little, and
commences knitting. She does not stay long on the beach, but before
leaving, makes a slight acquaintance with the strangers, and evinces a
curious desire to hear anything they may have to tell her about the
great world.
It is too bright a picture to last; she too, it would seem, has
day-dreams of cities; she would give up her freedom, she would join the
crowd and enter the 'great city,' she would have a stall at '_les
halles_,' and see the world.
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