noon
`` Ride hard , Scarlett ! '' The station-master saw us and halted the moving train at a frantic signal from Speed , whose uniform was to be reckoned with by all station-masters , and ten minutes later we stood swaying in a cattle-car , huddled close to our horses to keep warm , while the locomotive tore eastward , whistling frantically , and an ocean of black smoke poured past , swarming with sparks . Crossing the Aune trestle with a ripping roar , the train rushed through Châteaulin , south , then east , then south . Toward noon , Speed , clinging to the stall-bars , called out to me that he could see Quimper , and in a few moments we rolled into the station , dropped two cars , and steamed out again into the beautiful Breton country , where the winter wheat was green as new grass and the gorse glimmered , and the clear streams rushed seaward between their thickets of golden willows and green briers , already flushing with the promise of new buds . Rosporden we passed at full speed ; scarcely a patch of melting snow remained at Bannalec ; and when we steamed slowly into Quimperlé , the Laïta ran crystal-clear as a summer stream , and I saw the faint blue of violets on the southern slope of the beech-woods . Some gendarmes aided us to disembark our horses , and a sub-officer respectfully offered us hospitality at the barracks across the square ; but we were in our saddles the moment our horses ' hoofs struck the pavement , galloping for Paradise , with a sweet , keen wind blowing , hinting already of the sea . This was that same road which led me into Paradise on that autumn day which seemed years and years ago .