Excerpt from Selection From the Writings of Guy De Maupassant, Vol. 4
I was sound asleep when my skipper Bernard awoke me by throwing up sand at my window. I opened it, and or my face, on my chest, in my very soul, I felt the cold delicious breath of the night. The sky was a clear blue gray, and alive with the quivering fire of the stars.
The sailor, standing at the foot of the wall, said:
"Fine weather, sir."
"What wind?"
"Off shore."
"Very well, I"m coming."
Half an hour later I was hurrying down to the shore. The horizon was pale with the first rays of dawn, and I saw in the distance behind the Baie des Anges the lights at Nice, and still further on the revolving lighthouse at Villefranche.
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