Almost all descended to the old harbor with a ditch of dirty water in the middle of the gutter that dribbled from stone to stone.

They were dark as the tubes of a telescope, and at the end of these evil smelling ditches occupied by abandoned womanhood, there opened out a great space of light and blue color where could be seen little white sailboats, anchored at the foot of the hill, a sheet of sparkling water and the houses of the opposite wharf diminished by the distance.

Through other gaps appeared the mountain of _Notre-Dame-de-la-Garde_ with its sharp pointed Basilica topped by its gleaming statue, like an immovable, twisted tongue of flame.

Sometimes a torpedo destroyer entering the old harbor could be seen slipping by the mouth of one of these passageways as shadowy as though passing before the glass of a telescope.
Feeling fatigued by the bad smells and vicious misery of the old district, the sailor returned to the center of the city, strolling among the trees and flower stands of the avenues....
One evening while awaiting with others a street car in the Cannebiere, he turned his head with a presentiment that some one was looking at his back.
Sure enough! He saw behind him on the edge of the sidewalk an elegantly-dressed, clean-shaven gentleman whose aspect was that of an Englishman careful of his personal appearance.

The dapper man had stopped in surprise as though he might have just recognized Ferragut.
The two exchanged glances without awakening the slightest echo in the captain's memory....