The only picture we noticed in the church is a large canvas that
represents the battle of Lepante and is dedicated to Notre-Dame des
Victoires, who can be seen floating above the clouds. In the foreground,
all Christianity, together with crowned kings and princesses, is
kneeling. The two armies can be seen in the background. The Turks are
being hurled into the sea and the Christians stretch their arms towards
heaven.
The church is ugly, has no ornamentation, and looks almost like a
Protestant house of worship. I noticed very few votive offerings, a fact
that struck me as being rather peculiar in this place of sea perils.
There are no flowers nor candles in the chapels, no bleeding hearts nor
bedecked Virgin, nothing, in fact, of all that which causes M. Michelet
to wax indignant.
Opposite the ramparts, at a stone's throw from the city, rises the
little island of Grand-Bay. There, can be found the tomb of
Chateaubriand; that white spot cut in the rock is the place he has
designated for his body.
We went there one evening when the tide was low and the sun setting in
the west. The water was still trickling over the sand. At the foot of
the island, the dripping sea-weed spread out like the hair of antique
women over a tomb.
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