Madeleine shuddered when she felt Yvonne's hand. "To think that men should be so foolish as to risk their lives in such a way!" she murmured.
"I suppose that anyone who let go was killed?" said Tollemache.
"Mais, non, M'sieu'," Pere Jean assured him. "The blessed saint would not permit that. No one was ever killed, I'm told. But the prefect has forbidden it these twenty years."
"Are the rings in good condition?"
"Certainly, M'sieu'. Where now does one get such iron as was made in those days?"
"Let's test some of 'em, anyhow," said Tollemache, and before the horrified girls realized what he meant he had leaped from parapet to rock, and was clinging to a couple of rings.
* * * * *
"Oh, Monsieur Tollemache!" screamed Barbe.
"Please come back, Monsieur!" cried Madeleine.
"Hi! Hi! It is forbidden by the prefect!" bellowed Pere Jean.
But Yvonne, though angry and pallid with fright, only said, "Don't be stupid, Lorry.
Pretty darn good book. A bit too Victorian and idealistic, perhaps, and with one huge flaming coincidence but with good characters and some splendid sailing. And a splendid heroine.
Makes me want to visit Brittany, though not enough to learn French.
[I ignore stars]
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