Here and there a swift current of water compelled us to move farther up
the beach. Or we would suddenly come upon pools of slime with ragged
edges framed in sand.
Beside us walked two priests who were also going to the Mont Saint-Michel.
As they were afraid of soiling their new cassocks, they gathered them
up around their legs when they jumped over the little streams. Their
silver buckles were grey with mud, and their wet shoes gaped and threw
water at every step they took.
Meantime the Mount was growing larger. With one sweep of the eye we were
able to take in the whole panorama, and could see distinctly the tiles
on the roofs, the bunches of nettles on the rocks, and, a little higher,
the green shutters of a small window that looks out into the governor's
garden.
The first door, which is narrow and pointed, opens on a sort of pebble
road leading to the ocean; on the worn shield over the second door,
undulating lines carved in the stone seem to represent water; on both
sides of the doors are enormous cannons composed of iron bars connected
by similar circular bands. One of them has retained a cannon-ball in its
mouth; they were taken from the English in 1423, by Louis d'Estouteville,
and have remained here four hundred years.
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