XLI 
  
THE HARBOUR 
  
  
A HARBOUR is a charming resting-place for 
a soul weary of the struggles of life. The ampli-
tude of the sky, the mobile architecture of the 
clouds, the changing hues of the sea, the spar-
kling of the lighthouses, are a prism, marvel-
lously fitted to amuse the eyes without ever 
tiring them. The slender shapes of the ships 
with their complicated rigging on which the 
swell imprints its harmonious oscillations, 
serve to banquet the pleasure of rhythm and 
beauty in the soul. And above all, there is a 
sort of mysterious and aristocratic pleasure for 
him who has no longer either curiosity or am-
bition to lie upon the terrace or to lean upon 
the quay and watch in contemplative mood the 
movements of those who come and go, of 
those who have still the force to will, the desire 
to travel or to acquire riches.