diff options
Diffstat (limited to '2196-h/2196-h.htm')
| -rw-r--r-- | 2196-h/2196-h.htm | 7905 |
1 files changed, 7905 insertions, 0 deletions
diff --git a/2196-h/2196-h.htm b/2196-h/2196-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..ac08ac2 --- /dev/null +++ b/2196-h/2196-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,7905 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <meta content="pg2html (binary v0.17)" name="linkgenerator" /> + <title> + An Iceland Fisherman, by Pierre Loti + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of An Iceland Fisherman, by Pierre Loti + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: An Iceland Fisherman + +Author: Pierre Loti + +Release Date: March 25, 2006 [EBook #2196] +Last Updated: March 6, 2018 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK AN ICELAND FISHERMAN *** + + + + +Produced by Dagny; John Bickers and David Widger + + + + + +</pre> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h1> + AN ICELAND FISHERMAN + </h1> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h2> + By Pierre Loti + </h2> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h3> + Translated by M. Jules Cambon + </h3> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <blockquote> + <p class="toc"> + <big><b>CONTENTS</b></big> + </p> + <p> + <br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0001"> PIERRE LOTI </a><br /> <br /> <a + href="#link2H_4_0002"> <big><b>AN ICELAND FISHERMAN</b></big> </a><br /> + <br /> <a href="#link2H_PART"> <b>PART 1</b> </a> <b>ON THE + ICY SEA</b> <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0001"> CHAPTER I</a> THE + FISHERMEN <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0002"> CHAPTER II</a> ICELANDERS + <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0003"> CHAPTER III</a> THE WOMEN + AT HOME <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0004"> CHAPTER IV</a> FIRST + LOVE <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0005"> CHAPTER V</a> THE + SECOND MEETING <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0006"> CHAPTER VI</a> NEWS + FROM HOME <br /><br /> <a href="#link2H_PART2"> <b>PART II</b> </a> + <b>IN THE BRETON LAND</b> <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0007"> CHAPTER I</a> THE + PLAYTHING OF THE STORM <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0008"> CHAPTER II</a> A + PARDONABLE RUSE <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0009"> CHAPTER III</a> OF + SINISTER PORTENT <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0010"> CHAPTER IV</a> HIS + RELUCTANCE <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0011"> CHAPTER V</a> SAILORS + AT THE PLAY <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0012"> CHAPTER VI</a> ORDERED + ON FOREIGN SERVICE <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0013"> CHAPTER VII</a> MOAN'S + SWEETHEART <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0014"> CHAPTER VIII</a> OLD + AND YOUNG <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0015"> CHAPTER IX</a> THE + EASTERN VOYAGE <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0016"> CHAPTER X</a> THE + ORIENT <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0017"> CHAPTER XI</a> A + CURIOUS RENCONTRE <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0018"> CHAPTER XII</a> STRIKING + THE ROCK UNKNOWN <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0019"> CHAPTER XIII</a> HOME + NEWS <br /><br /> <a href="#link2H_PART3"> <b>PART III</b> </a> + <b>IN THE SHADOW</b> <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0020"> CHAPTER I</a> THE + SKIRMISH <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0021"> CHAPTER II</a> "OUT, + BRIEF CANDLE!” <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0022"> CHAPTER III</a> THE + GRAVE ABROAD <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0023"> CHAPTER IV</a> TO + THE SURVIVORS, THE SPOILS <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0024"> CHAPTER V</a> THE + DEATH-BLOW <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0025"> CHAPTER VI</a> A + CHARITABLE ASSUMPTION <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0026"> CHAPTER VII</a> THE + COMFORTER <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0027"> CHAPTER VIII</a> THE + BROTHER'S GRIEF <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0028"> CHAPTER IX</a> WORK + CURES SORROW <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0029"> CHAPTER X</a> THE + WHITE FOG <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0030"> CHAPTER XI</a> THE + SPECTRE SHIP <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0031"> CHAPTER XII</a> THE + STRANGE COUPLE <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0032"> CHAPTER XIII</a> RENEWED + DISAPPOINTMENT <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0033"> CHAPTER XIV</a> THE + GRANDAM BREAKING UP <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0034"> CHAPTER XV</a> THE + NEW SHIP <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0035"> CHAPTER XVI</a> LONE + AND LORN <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0036"> CHAPTER XVII</a> THE + ESPOUSAL <br /><br /> <a href="#link2H_PART4"> <b>PART IV</b> </a> + <b>YANN'S FIRST WEDDING</b> <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0037"> CHAPTER + I</a> THE COURTING BY THE SEA <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0038"> CHAPTER II</a> THE SEAMAN'S SECRET + <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0039"> CHAPTER III</a> THE + OMINOUS WEDDING-DRESS <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0040"> CHAPTER IV</a> FLOWER + OF THE THORN <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0041"> CHAPTER V</a> THE + COST OF OBSTINACY <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0042"> CHAPTER VI</a> THE + BRIDAL <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0043"> CHAPTER VII</a> THE + DISCORDANT NOTE <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0044"> CHAPTER VIII</a> THE + BLISSFUL WEEK <br /><br /> <a href="#link2H_PART5"> <b>PART V</b> </a> + <b>THE SECOND WEDDING</b> <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0045"> CHAPTER I</a> THE + START <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0046"> CHAPTER II</a> THE + FIRST OF THE FLEET <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0047"> CHAPTER III</a> ALL + BUT TWO <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0048"> CHAPTER IV</a> STILL + AT SEA <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0049"> CHAPTER V</a> SHARING + THE DREAD <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0050"> CHAPTER VI</a> ALL + BUT ONE <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0051"> CHAPTER VII</a> THE + MOURNER'S VISION <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0052"> CHAPTER VIII</a> THE + FALSE ALARM <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0053"> CHAPTER IX</a> WEDDED + TO THE SEA + </p> + </blockquote> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h2> + PIERRE LOTI + </h2> + <p> + The first appearance of Pierre Loti's works, twenty years ago, caused a + sensation throughout those circles wherein the creations of intellect and + imagination are felt, studied, and discussed. The author was one who, with + a power which no one had wielded before him, carried off his readers into + exotic lands, and whose art, in appearance most simple, proved a genuine + enchantment for the imagination. It was the time when M. Zola and his + school stood at the head of the literary movement. There breathed forth + from Loti's writings an all-penetrating fragrance of poesy, which + liberated French literary ideals from the heavy and oppressive yoke of the + Naturalistic school. Truth now soared on unhampered pinions, and the + reading world was completely won by the unsurpassed intensity and faithful + accuracy with which he depicted the alluring charms of far-off scenes, and + painted the naive soul of the races that seem to endure in the isles of + the Pacific as surviving representatives of the world's infancy. + </p> + <p> + It was then learned that this independent writer was named in real life + Louis Marie Julien Viaud, and that he was a naval officer. This very fact, + that he was not a writer by profession, added indeed to his success. He + actually had seen that which he was describing, he had lived that which he + was relating. What in any other man would have seemed but research and + oddity, remained natural in the case of a sailor who returned each year + with a manuscript in his hand. Africa, Asia, the isles of the Pacific, + were the usual scenes of his dramas. Finally from France itself, and from + the oldest provinces of France, he drew subject-matter for two of his + novels, <i>An Iceland Fisherman</i> and <i>Ramuntcho</i>. This proved a + surprise. Our Breton sailors and our Basque mountaineers were not less + foreign to the Parisian drawing-room than was Aziyade or the little + Rahahu. One claimed to have a knowledge of Brittany, or of the Pyrenees, + because one had visited Dinard or Biarritz; while in reality neither + Tahiti nor the Isle of Paques could have remained more completely unknown + to us. + </p> + <p> + The developments of human industry have brought the extremities of the + world nearer together; but the soul of each race continues to cloak itself + in its own individuality and to remain a mystery to the rest of the world. + One trait alone is common to all: the infinite sadness of human destiny. + This it was that Loti impressed so vividly on the reading world. + </p> + <p> + His success was great. Though a young man as yet, Loti saw his work + crowned with what in France may be considered the supreme sanction: he was + elected to membership in the French Academy. His name became coupled with + those of Bernardin de St. Pierre and of Chateaubriand. With the sole + exception of the author of <i>Paul and Virginia</i> and of the writer of + <i>Atala</i>, he seemed to be one without predecessor and without a + master. It may be well here to inquire how much reason there is for this + assertion, and what novel features are presented in his work. + </p> + <p> + It has become a trite saying that French genius lacks the sense of Nature, + that the French tongue is colourless, and therefore wants the most + striking feature of poetry. If we abandoned for one moment the domain of + letters and took a comprehensive view of the field of art, we might be + permitted to express astonishment at the passing of so summary a judgment + on the genius of a nation which has, in the real sense of the term, + produced two such painters of Nature as Claude Lorrain and Corot. But even + in the realm of letters it is easily seen that this mode of thinking is + due largely to insufficient knowledge of the language's resources, and to + a study of French literature which does not extend beyond the seventeenth + century. Without going back to the Duke of Orleans and to Villon, one need + only read a few of the poets of the sixteenth century to be struck by the + prominence given to Nature in their writings. Nothing is more delightful + than Ronsard's word-paintings of his sweet country of Vendome. Until the + day of Malherbe, the didactic Regnier and the Calvinistic Marot are the + only two who could be said to give colour to the preconceived and + prevalent notion as to the dryness of French poetry. And even after + Malherbe, in the seventeenth century, we find that La Fontaine, the most + truly French of French writers, was a passionate lover of Nature. He who + can see nothing in the latter's fables beyond the little dramas which they + unfold and the ordinary moral which the poet draws therefrom, must confess + that he fails to understand him. His landscapes possess precision, + accuracy, and life, while such is the fragrance of his speech that it + seems laden with the fresh perfume of the fields and furrows. + </p> + <p> + Racine himself, the most penetrating and the most psychological of poets, + is too well versed in the human soul not to have felt its intimate union + with Nature. His magnificent verse in Phedre, + </p> + <p> + “Ah, que ne suis-je assise a l'ombre des forets!” + </p> + <p> + is but the cry of despair, the appeal, filled with anguish, of a heart + that is troubled and which oft has sought peace and alleviation amid the + cold indifference of inanimate things. The small place given to Nature in + the French literature of the seventeenth century is not to be ascribed to + the language nor explained by a lack of sensibility on the part of the + race. The true cause is to be found in the spirit of that period; for + investigation will disclose that the very same condition then + characterized the literatures of England, of Spain, and of Italy. + </p> + <p> + We must bear in mind that, owing to an almost unique combination of + circumstances, there never has been a period when man was more convinced + of the nobility and, I dare say it, of the sovereignty of man, or was more + inclined to look upon the latter as a being independent of the external + world. He did not suspect the intimately close bonds which unite the + creature to the medium in which it lives. A man of the world in the + seventeenth century was utterly without a notion of those truths which in + their ensemble constitute the natural sciences. He crossed the threshold + of life possessed of a deep classical instruction, and all-imbued with + stoical ideas of virtue. At the same time, he had received the mould of a + strong but narrow Christian education, in which nothing figured save his + relations with God. This twofold training elevated his soul and fortified + his will, but wrenched him violently from all communion with Nature. This + is the standpoint from which we must view the heroes of Corneille, if we + would understand those extraordinary souls which, always at the highest + degree of tension, deny themselves, as a weakness, everything that + resembles tenderness or pity. Again, thus and thus alone can we explain + how Descartes, and with him all the philosophers of his century, ran + counter to all common sense, and refused to recognise that animals might + possess a soul-like principle which, however remotely, might link them to + the human being. + </p> + <p> + When, in the eighteenth century, minds became emancipated from the narrow + restrictions of religious discipline, and when method was introduced into + the study of scientific problems, Nature took her revenge as well in + literature as in all other fields of human thought. Rousseau it was who + inaugurated the movement in France, and the whole of Europe followed in + the wake of France. It may even be declared that the reaction against the + seventeenth century was in many respects excessive, for the eighteenth + century gave itself up to a species of sentimental debauch. It is none the + less a fact that the author of <i>La Nouvelle Heloise</i> was the first to + blend the moral life of man with his exterior surroundings. He felt the + savage beauty and grandeur of the mountains of Switzerland, the grace of + the Savoy horizons, and the more familiar elegance of the Parisian + suburbs. We may say that he opened the eye of humanity to the spectacle + which the world offered it. In Germany, Lessing, Goethe, Hegel, Schelling + have proclaimed him their master; while even in England, Byron, and George + Eliot herself, have recognised all that they owed to him. + </p> + <p> + The first of Rosseau's disciples in France was Bernardin de St. Pierre, + whose name has frequently been recalled in connection with Loti. Indeed, + the charming masterpiece of <i>Paul and Virginia</i> was the first example + of exoticism in literature; and thereby it excited the curiosity of our + fathers at the same time that it dazzled them by the wealth and brilliancy + of its descriptions. + </p> + <p> + Then came Chateaubriand; but Nature with him was not a mere background. He + sought from it an accompaniment, in the musical sense of the term, to the + movements of his soul; and being somewhat prone to melancholy, his taste + seems to have favoured sombre landscapes, stormy and tragical. The entire + romantic school was born from him, Victor Hugo and George Sand, Theophile + Gautier who draws from the French tongue resources unequalled in wealth + and colour, and even M. Zola himself, whose naturalism, after all, is but + the last form and, as it were, the end of romanticism, since it would be + difficult to discover in him any characteristic that did not exist, as a + germ at least, in Balzac. + </p> + <p> + I have just said that Chateaubriand sought in Nature an accompaniment to + the movements of his soul: this was the case with all the romanticists. We + do not find Rene, Manfred, Indiana, living in the midst of a tranquil and + monotonous Nature. The storms of heaven must respond to the storms of + their soul; and it is a fact that all these great writers, Byron as well + as Victor Hugo, have not so much contemplated and seen Nature as they have + interpreted it through the medium of their own passions; and it is in this + sense that the keen Amiel could justly remark that a landscape is a + condition or a state of the soul. + </p> + <p> + M. Loti does not merely interpret a landscape; though perhaps, to begin + with, he is unconscious of doing more. With him, the human being is a part + of Nature, one of its very expressions, like animals and plants, mountain + forms and sky tints. His characters are what they are only because they + issue forth from the medium in which they live. They are truly creatures, + and not gods inhabiting the earth. Hence their profound and striking + reality. + </p> + <p> + Hence also one of the peculiar characteristics of Loti's workers. He loves + to paint simple souls, hearts close to Nature, whose primitive passions + are singularly similar to those of animals. He is happy in the isles of + the Pacific or on the borders of Senegal; and when he shifts his scenes + into old Europe it is never with men and women of the world that he + entertains us. + </p> + <p> + What we call a man of the world is the same everywhere; he is moulded by + the society of men, but Nature and the universe have no place in his life + and thought. M. Paul Bourget's heroes might live without distinction in + Newport or in Monte Carlo; they take root nowhere, but live in the large + cities, in winter resorts and in drawing-rooms as transient visitors in + temporary abiding-places. + </p> + <p> + Loti seeks his heroes and his heroines among those antique races of Europe + which have survived all conquests, and which have preserved, with their + native tongue, the individuality of their character. He met Ramuntcho in + the Basque country, but dearer than all to him is Brittany: here it was + that he met his Iceland fishermen. + </p> + <p> + The Breton soul bears an imprint of Armorica's primitive soil: it is + melancholy and noble. There is an undefinable charm about those arid lands + and those sod-flanked hills of granite, whose sole horizon is the + far-stretching sea. Europe ends here, and beyond remains only the broad + expanse of the ocean. The poor people who dwell here are silent and + tenacious: their heart is full of tenderness and of dreams. Yann, the + Iceland fisherman, and his sweetheart, Gaud of Paimpol, can only live + here, in the small houses of Brittany, where people huddle together in a + stand against the storms which come howling from the depths of the + Atlantic. + </p> + <p> + Loti's novels are never complicated with a mass of incidents. The + characters are of humble station and their life is as simple as their + soul. <i>Aziyade</i>, <i>The Romance of a Spahi</i>, <i>An Iceland + Fisherman</i>, <i>Ramuntcho</i>, all present the story of a love and a + separation. A departure, or death itself, intervenes to put an end to the + romance. But the cause matters little; the separation is the same; the + hearts are broken; Nature survives; it covers over and absorbs the + miserable ruins which we leave behind us. No one better than Loti has ever + brought out the frailty of all things pertaining to us, for no one better + than he has made us realize the persistency of life and the indifference + of Nature. + </p> + <p> + This circumstance imparts to the reading of M. Loti's works a character of + peculiar sadness. The trend of his novels is not one that incites + curiosity; his heroes are simple, and the atmosphere in which they live is + foreign to us. What saddens us is not their history, but the undefinable + impression that our pleasures are nothing and that we are but an accident. + This is a thought common to the degree of triteness among moralists and + theologians; but as they present it, it fails to move us. It troubles us + as presented by M. Loti, because he has known how to give it all the force + of a sensation. + </p> + <p> + How has he accomplished this? + </p> + <p> + He writes with extreme simplicity, and is not averse to the use of vague + and indefinite expressions. And yet the wealth and precision of Gautier's + and Hugo's language fail to endow their landscapes with the striking charm + and intense life which are to be found in those of Loti. I can find no + other reason for this than that which I have suggested above: the + landscape, in Hugo's and in Gautier's scenes, is a background and nothing + more; while Loti makes it the predominating figure of his drama. Our + sensibilities are necessarily aroused before this apparition of Nature, + blind, inaccessible, and all-powerful as the Fates of old. + </p> + <p> + It may prove interesting to inquire how Loti contrived to sound such a new + note in art. + </p> + <p> + He boasted, on the day of his reception into the French Academy, that he + had never read. Many protested, some smiled, and a large number of persons + refused to believe the assertion. Yet the statement was actually quite + credible, for the foundation and basis of M. Loti rest on a naive + simplicity which makes him very sensitive to the things of the outside + world, and gives him a perfect comprehension of simple souls. He is not a + reader, for he is not imbued with book notions of things; his ideas of + them are direct, and everything with him is not memory, but reflected + sensation. + </p> + <p> + On the other hand, that sailor-life which had enabled him to see the + world, must have confirmed in him this mental attitude. The deck officer + who watches the vessel's course may do nothing which could distract his + attention; but while ever ready to act and always unoccupied, he thinks, + he dreams, he listens to the voices of the sea; and everything about him + is of interest to him, the shape of the clouds, the aspect of skies and + waters. He knows that a mere board's thickness is all that separates him + and defends him from death. Such is the habitual state of mind which M. + Loti has brought to the colouring of his books. + </p> + <p> + He has related to us how, when still a little child, he first beheld the + sea. He had escaped from the parental home, allured by the brisk and + pungent air and by the “peculiar noise, at once feeble and great,” which + could be heard beyond little hills of sand to which led a certain path. He + recognised the sea; “before me something appeared, something sombre and + noisy, which had loomed up from all sides at once, and which seemed to + have no end; a moving expanse which struck me with mortal vertigo; . . . + above was stretched out full a sky all of one piece, of a dark gray colour + like a heavy mantle; very, very far away, in unmeasurable depths of + horizon, could be seen a break, an opening between sea and sky, a long + empty crack, of a light pale yellow.” He felt a sadness unspeakable, a + sense of desolate solitude, of abandonment, of exile. He ran back in haste + to unburden his soul upon his mother's bosom, and, as he says, “to seek + consolation with her for a thousand anticipated, indescribable pangs, + which had wrung my heart at the sight of that vast green, deep expanse.” + </p> + <p> + A poet of the sea had been born, and his genius still bears a trace of the + shudder of fear experienced that evening by Pierre Loti the little child. + </p> + <p> + Loti was born not far from the ocean, in Saintonge, of an old Huguenot + family which had numbered many sailors among its members. While yet a mere + child he thumbed the old Bible which formerly, in the days of persecution, + had been read only with cautious secrecy; and he perused the vessel's + ancient records wherein mariners long since gone had noted, almost a + century before, that “the weather was good,” that “the wind was + favourable,” and that “doradoes or gilt-heads were passing near the ship.” + </p> + <p> + He was passionately fond of music. He had few comrades, and his + imagination was of the exalted kind. His first ambition was to be a + minister, then a missionary; and finally he decided to become a sailor. He + wanted to see the world, he had the curiosity of things; he was inclined + to search for the strange and the unknown; he must seek that sensation, + delightful and fascinating to complex souls, of betaking himself off, of + withdrawing from his own world, of breaking with his own mode of life, and + of creating for himself voluntary regrets. + </p> + <p> + He felt in the presence of Nature a species of disquietude, and + experienced therefrom sensations which might almost be expressed in + colours: his head, he himself states, “might be compared to a camera, + filled with sensitive plates.” This power of vision permitted him to + apprehend only the appearance of things, not their reality; he was + conscious of the nothingness of nothing, of the dust of dust. The remnants + of his religious education intensified still more this distaste for the + external world. + </p> + <p> + He was wont to spend his summer vacation in the south of France, and he + preserved its warm sunny impressions. It was only later that he became + acquainted with Brittany. She inspired him at first with a feeling of + oppression and of sadness, and it was long before he learned to love her. + </p> + <p> + Thus was formed and developed, far from literary circles and from Parisian + coteries, one of the most original writers that had appeared for a long + time. He noted his impressions while touring the world; one fine morning + he published them, and from the very first the reading public was won. He + related his adventures and his own romance. The question could then be + raised whether his skill and art would prove as consummate if he should + deviate from his own personality to write what might be termed impersonal + poems; and it is precisely in this last direction that he subsequently + produced what are now considered his masterpieces. + </p> + <p> + A strange writer assuredly is this, at once logical and illusive, who + makes us feel at the same time the sensation of things and that of their + nothingness. Amid so many works wherein the luxuries of the Orient, the + quasi animal life of the Pacific, the burning passions of Africa, are + painted with a vigour of imagination never witnessed before his advent, <i>An + Iceland Fisherman</i> shines forth with incomparable brilliancy. Something + of the pure soul of Brittany is to be found in these melancholy pages, + which, so long as the French tongue endures, must evoke the admiration of + artists, and must arouse the pity and stir the emotions of men. + </p> + <p> + JULES CAMBON. BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE + </p> + <p> + The real name of PIERRE LOTI is LOUIS MARIE JULIEN VIAUD. He was born of + Protestant parents, in the old city of Rochefort, on the 14th of January, + 1850. In one of his pleasant volumes of autobiography, “Le Roman d'un + Enfant,” he has given a very pleasing account of his childhood, which was + most tenderly cared for and surrounded with indulgences. At a very early + age he began to develop that extreme sensitiveness to external influences + which has distinguished him ever since. He was first taught at a school in + Rochefort, but at the age of seventeen, being destined for the navy, he + entered the great French naval school, Le Borda, and has gradually risen + in his profession. His pseudonym is said to have had reference to his + extreme shyness and reserve in early life, which made his comrades call + him after “le Loti,” an Indian flower which loves to blush unseen. He was + never given to books or study (when he was received at the French Academy, + he had the courage to say, “Loti ne sait pas lire”), and it was not until + his thirtieth year that he was persuaded to write down and publish certain + curious experiences at Constantinople, in “Aziyade,” a book which, like so + many of Loti's, seems half a romance, half an autobiography. He proceeded + to the South Seas, and, on leaving Tahiti, published the Polynesian idyl, + originally called “Raharu,” which was reprinted as “Le Mariage de Loti” + (1880), and which first introduced to the wider public an author of + remarkable originality and charm. Loti now became extremely prolific, and + in a succession of volumes chronicled old exotic memories or manipulated + the journal of new travels. “Le Roman d'un Spahi,” a record of the + melancholy adventures of a soldier in Senegambia, belongs to 1881. In 1882 + Loti issued a collection of short studies under the general title of + “Fleurs d'Ennui.” In 1883 he achieved the widest celebrity, for not only + did he publish “Mon Frere Yves,” a novel describing the life of a French + bluejacket in all parts of the world—perhaps, on the whole, to this + day his most characteristic production—but he was involved in a + public discussion in a manner which did him great credit. While taking + part as a naval officer in the Tonquin war, Loti had exposed in a Parisian + newspaper a series of scandals which succeeded on the capture of Hue, and, + being recalled, he was now suspended from the service for more than a + year. He continued for some time nearly silent, but in 1886, he published + a novel of life among the Breton fisher-folk, entitled “Pecheurs + d'Islande”; this has been the most popular of all his writings. In 1887 he + brought out a volume of extraordinary merit, which has never received the + attention it deserves; this is “Propos d'Exil,” a series of short studies + of exotic places, in Loti's peculiar semi-autobiographic style. The + fantastic romance of Japanese manners, “Madame Chrysantheme,” belongs to + the same year. Passing over one or two slighter productions, we come to + 1890, to “Au Maroc,” the record of a journey to Fez in company with a + French embassy. A collection of strangely confidential and sentimental + reminiscences, called “Le Livre de la Pitie et de la Mort,” belongs to + 1891. Loti was on board his ship at the port of Algiers when news was + brought to him of his election, on the 21st of May, 1891, to the French + Academy. Since he has become an Immortal the literary activity of Pierre + Loti has somewhat declined. In 1892 he published “Fantome d'Orient,” + another dreamy study of life in Constantinople, a sort of continuation of + “Aziyade.” He has described a visit to the Holy Land in three volumes, “Le + Desert,” “Jerusalem,” “La Galilee” (1895-96), and he has written one + novel, “Ramentcho” (1897), a story of manners in the Basque province, + which is quite on a level with his best work. In 1898 he collected his + later essays as “Figures et Choses qui passaient.” In 1899-1900 Loti + visited British India, and in the autumn of the latter year China; and he + has described what he saw there, after the seige, in a charming volume, + “Derniers Jours de Pekin,” 1902. + </p> + <p> + E. G. <a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + AN ICELAND FISHERMAN + </h2> + <h3> + by Pierre Loti + </h3> + <p> + <a name="link2H_PART" id="link2H_PART"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + PART 1 — ON THE ICY SEA + </h2> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER I—THE FISHERMEN + </h2> + <p> + There they were, five huge, square-built seamen, drinking away together in + the dismal cabin, which reeked of fish-pickle and bilge-water. The + overhead beams came down too low for their tall statures, and rounded off + at one end so as to resemble a gull's breast, seen from within. The whole + rolled gently with a monotonous wail, inclining one slowly to drowsiness. + </p> + <p> + Outside, beyond doubt, lay the sea and the night; but one could not be + quite sure of that, for a single opening in the deck was closed by its + weather-hatch, and the only light came from an old hanging-lamp, swinging + to and fro. A fire shone in the stove, at which their saturated clothes + were drying, and giving out steam that mingled with the smoke from their + clay pipes. + </p> + <p> + Their massive table, fitted exactly to its shape, occupied the whole + space; and there was just enough room for moving around and sitting upon + the narrow lockers fastened to the sides. Thick beams ran above them, very + nearly touching their heads, and behind them yawned the berths, apparently + hollowed out of the solid timbers, like recesses of a vault wherein to + place the dead. All the wainscoting was rough and worn, impregnated with + damp and salt, defaced and polished by the continual rubbings of their + hands. + </p> + <p> + They had been drinking wine and cider in their pannikins, and the sheer + enjoyment of life lit up their frank, honest faces. Now, they lingered at + table chatting, in Breton tongue, on women and marriage. A china statuette + of the Virgin Mary was fastened on a bracket against the midship + partition, in the place of honour. This patron saint of our sailors was + rather antiquated, and painted with very simple art; yet these porcelain + images live much longer than real men, and her red and blue robe still + seemed very fresh in the midst of the sombre greys of the poor wooden box. + She must have listened to many an ardent prayer in deadly hours; at her + feet were nailed two nosegays of artificial flowers and a rosary. + </p> + <p> + These half-dozen men were dressed alike; a thick blue woollen jersey clung + to the body, drawn in by the waist-belt; on the head was worn the + waterproof helmet, known as the sou'-wester. These men were of different + ages. The skipper might have been about forty; the three others between + twenty-five and thirty. The youngest, whom they called Sylvestre or + “Lurlu,” was only seventeen, yet already a man for height and strength; a + fine curly black beard covered his cheeks; still he had childlike eyes, + bluish-grey in hue, and sweet and tender in expression. + </p> + <p> + Huddled against one another, for want of space, they seemed to feel + downright comfort, snugly packed in their dark home. + </p> + <p> + Outside spread the ocean and night—the infinite solitude of dark + fathomless waters. A brass watch, hung on the wall, pointed to eleven + o'clock—doubtless eleven at night—and upon the deck pattered + the drizzling rain. + </p> + <p> + Among themselves, they treated these questions of marriage very merrily; + but without saying anything indecent. No, indeed, they only sketched plans + for those who were still bachelors, or related funny stories happening at + home at wedding-feasts. Sometimes with a happy laugh they made some rather + too free remarks about the fun in love-making. But love-making, as these + men understand it, is always a healthy sensation, and for all its + coarseness remains tolerably chaste. + </p> + <p> + But Sylvestre was worried, because a mate called Jean (which Bretons + pronounce “Yann”) did not come down below. Where could Yann be, by the + way? was he lashed to his work on deck? Why did he not come below to take + his share in their feast? + </p> + <p> + “It's close on midnight, hows'ever,” observed the captain; and drawing + himself up he raised the scuttle with his head, so as to call Yann that + way. + </p> + <p> + Then a weird glimmer fell from above. + </p> + <p> + “Yann! Yann! Look alive, matey!” + </p> + <p> + “Matey” answered roughly from outside while through the half-opened + hatchway the faint light kept entering like that of dawn. Nearly midnight, + yet it looked like a peep of day, or the light of the starry gloaming, + sent from afar through mystic lenses of magicians. + </p> + <p> + When the aperture closed, night reigned again, save for the small lamp, + “sended” now and again aside, which shed its yellow light. A man in clogs + was heard coming down the wooden steps. + </p> + <p> + He entered bent in two like a big bear, for he was a giant. At first he + made a wry face, holding his nose, because of the acrid smell of the + souse. + </p> + <p> + He exceeded a little too much the ordinary proportions of man, especially + in breadth, though he was straight as a poplar. When he faced you the + muscles of his shoulders, moulded under his blue jersey, stood out like + great globes at the tops of his arms. His large brown eyes were very + mobile, with a grand, wild expression. + </p> + <p> + Sylvestre threw his arms round Yann, and drew him towards him tenderly, + after the fashion of children. Sylvestre was betrothed to Yann's sister, + and he treated him as an elder brother, of course. And Yann allowed + himself to be pulled about like a young lion, answering by a kind smile + that showed his white teeth. These were somewhat far apart, and appeared + quite small. His fair moustache was rather short, although never cut. It + was tightly curled in small rolls above his lips, which were most + exquisitely and delicately modelled, and then frizzed off at the ends on + either side of the deep corners of his mouth. The remainder of his beard + was shaven, and his highly coloured cheeks retained a fresh bloom like + that of fruit never yet handled. + </p> + <p> + When Yann was seated, the mugs were filled up anew. + </p> + <p> + The lighting of all the pipes was an excuse for the cabin boy to smoke a + few wiffs himself. He was a robust little fellow, with round cheeks—a + kind of little brother to them all, more or less related to one another as + they were; otherwise his work had been hard enough for the darling of the + crew. Yann let him drink out of his own glass before he was sent to bed. + Thereupon the important topic of marriage was revived. + </p> + <p> + “But I say, Yann,” asked Sylvestre, “when are we going to celebrate your + wedding?” + </p> + <p> + “You ought to be ashamed,” said the master; “a hulking chap like you, + twenty-seven years old and not yet spliced; ho, ho! What must the lasses + think of you when they see you roll by?” + </p> + <p> + Yann answered by snapping his thick fingers with a contemptuous look for + the women folk. He had just worked off his five years' government naval + service; and it was as master-gunner of the fleet that he had learned to + speak good French and hold sceptical opinions. He hemmed and hawed and + then rattled off his latest love adventure, which had lasted a fortnight. + </p> + <p> + It happened in Nantes, a Free-and-Easy singer for the heroine. One + evening, returning from the waterside, being slightly tipsy, he had + entered the music hall. At the door stood a woman selling big bouquets at + twenty francs apiece. He had bought one without quite knowing what he + should do with it, and before he was much more than in had thrown it with + great force at the vocalist upon the stage, striking her full in the face, + partly as a rough declaration of love, partly through disgust for the + painted doll that was too pink for his taste. The blow had felled the + woman to the boards, and—she worshipped him during the three + following weeks. + </p> + <p> + “Why, bless ye, lads, when I left she made me this here present of a real + gold watch.” + </p> + <p> + The better to show it them he threw it upon the table like a worthless + toy. + </p> + <p> + This was told with coarse words and oratorical flourishes of his own. Yet + this commonplace of civilized life jarred sadly among such simple men, + with the grand solemnity of the ocean around them; in the glimmering of + midnight, falling from above, was an impression of the fleeting summers of + the far north country. + </p> + <p> + These ways of Yann greatly pained and surprised Sylvestre. He was a + girlish boy, brought up in respect for holy things, by an old grandmother, + the widow of a fisherman in the village of Ploubazlanec. As a tiny child + he used to go every day with her to kneel and tell his beads over his + mother's grave. From the churchyard on the cliff the grey waters of the + Channel, wherein his father had disappeared in a shipwreck, could be seen + in the far distance. + </p> + <p> + As his grandmother and himself were poor he had to take to fishing in his + early youth, and his childhood had been spent out on the open water. Every + night he said his prayers, and his eyes still wore their religious purity. + He was captivating though, and next to Yann the finest-built lad of the + crew. His voice was very soft, and its boyish tones contrasted markedly + with his tall height and black beard; as he had shot up very rapidly he + was almost puzzled to find himself grown suddenly so tall and big. He + expected to marry Yann's sister soon, but never yet had answered any + girl's love advances. + </p> + <p> + There were only three sleeping bunks aboard, one being double-berthed, so + they “turned in” alternately. + </p> + <p> + When they had finished their feast, celebrating the Assumption of their + patron saint, it was a little past midnight. Three of them crept away to + bed in the small dark recesses that resembled coffin-shelves; and the + three others went up on deck to get on with their often interrupted, heavy + labour of fish-catching; the latter were Yann, Sylvestre, and one of their + fellow-villagers known as Guillaume. + </p> + <p> + It was daylight, the everlasting day of those regions—a pale, dim + light, resembling no other—bathing all things, like the gleams of a + setting sun. Around them stretched an immense colourless waste, and + excepting the planks of their ship, all seemed transparent, ethereal, and + fairy-like. The eye could not distinguish what the scene might be: first + it appeared as a quivering mirror that had no objects to reflect; and in + the distance it became a desert of vapour; and beyond that a void, having + neither horizon nor limits. + </p> + <p> + The damp freshness of the air was more intensely penetrating than dry + frost; and when breathing it, one tasted the flavour of brine. All was + calm, and the rain had ceased; overhead the clouds, without form or + colour, seemed to conceal that latent light that could not be explained; + the eye could see clearly, yet one was still conscious of the night; this + dimness was all of an indefinable hue. + </p> + <p> + The three men on deck had lived since their childhood upon the frigid + seas, in the very midst of their mists, which are vague and troubled as + the background of dreams. They were accustomed to see this varying + infinitude play about their paltry ark of planks, and their eyes were as + used to it as those of the great free ocean-birds. + </p> + <p> + The boat rolled gently with its everlasting wail, as monotonous as a + Breton song moaned by a sleeper. Yann and Sylvestre had got their bait and + lines ready, while their mate opened a barrel of salt, and whetting his + long knife went and sat behind them, waiting. + </p> + <p> + He did not have long to wait, or they either. They scarcely had thrown + their lines into the calm, cold water in fact, before they drew in huge + heavy fish, of a steel-grey sheen. And time after time the codfish let + themselves be hooked in a rapid and unceasing silent series. The third man + ripped them open with his long knife, spread them flat, salted and counted + them, and piled up the lot—which upon their return would constitute + their fortune—behind them, all still redly streaming and still sweet + and fresh. + </p> + <p> + The hours passed monotonously, while in the immeasurably empty regions + beyond the light slowly changed till it grew less unreal. What at first + had appeared a livid gloaming, like a northern summer's eve, became now, + without any intervening “dark hour before dawn,” something like a smiling + morn, reflected by all the facets of the oceans in fading, roseate-edged + streaks. + </p> + <p> + “You really ought to marry, Yann,” said Sylvestre, suddenly and very + seriously this time, still looking into the water. (He seemed to know + somebody in Brittany, who had allowed herself to be captivated by the + brown eyes of his “big brother,” but he felt shy upon so solemn a + subject.) + </p> + <p> + “Me! Lor', yes, some day I will marry.” He smiled, did the always + contemptuous Yann, rolling his passionate eyes. “But I'll have none of the + lasses at home; no, I'll wed the sea, and I invite ye all in the barkey + now, to the ball I'll give at my wedding.” + </p> + <p> + They kept on hauling in, for their time could not be lost in chatting; + they had an immense quantity of fish in a traveling shoal, which had not + ceased passing for the last two days. + </p> + <p> + They had been up all night, and in thirty hours had caught more than a + thousand prime cods; so that even their strong arms were tired and they + were half asleep. But their bodies remained active and they continued + their toil, though occasionally their minds floated off into regions of + profound sleep. But the free air they breathed was as pure as that of the + first young days of the world, and so bracing, that notwithstanding their + weariness they felt their chests expand and their cheeks glow as at + arising. + </p> + <p> + Morning, the true morning light, at length came; as in the days of + Genesis, it had “divided from the darkness,” which had settled upon the + horizon and rested there in great heavy masses; and by the clearness of + vision now, it was seen night had passed, and that that first vague + strange glimmer was only a forerunner. In the thickly-veiled heavens, + broke out rents here and there, like side skylights in a dome, through + which pierced glorious rays of light, silver and rosy. The lower-lying + clouds were grouped round in a belt of intense shadow, encircling the + waters and screening the far-off distance in darkness. They hinted as of a + space in a boundary; they were as curtains veiling the infinite, or as + draperies drawn to hide the too majestic mysteries, which would have + perturbed the imagination of mortals. + </p> + <p> + On this special morning, around the small plank platform occupied by Yann + and Sylvestre, the shifting outer world had an appearance of deep + meditation, as though this were an altar recently raised; and the sheaves + of sun-rays, which darted like arrows under the sacred arch, spread in a + long glimmering stream over the motionless waves, as over a marble floor. + Then, slowly and more slowly yet loomed still another wonder; a high, + majestic, pink profile—it was a promontory of gloomy Iceland. + </p> + <p> + Yann's wedding with the sea? Sylvestre was still thinking of it—after + resuming his fishing without daring to say anything more. He had felt + quite sad when his big brother had so turned the holy sacrament of + marriage into ridicule; and it particularly had frightened him, as he was + superstitious. + </p> + <p> + For so long, too, he had mused on Yann's marriage! He had thought that it + might take place with Gaud Mevel, a blonde lass from Paimpol; and that he + would have the happiness of being present at the marriage-feast before + starting for the navy, that long five years' exile, with its dubious + return, the thought of which already plucked at his heart-strings. + </p> + <p> + Four o'clock in the morning now. The watch below came up, all three, to + relieve the others. Still rather sleepy, drinking in chestfuls of the + fresh, chill air, they stepped up, drawing their long sea-boots higher, + and having to shut their eyes, dazzled at first by a light so pale, yet in + such abundance. + </p> + <p> + Yann and Sylvestre took their breakfast of biscuits, which they had to + break with a mallet, and began to munch noisily, laughing at their being + so very hard. They had become quite merry again at the idea of going down + to sleep, snugly and warmly in their berths; and clasping each other round + the waist they danced up to the hatchway to an old song-tune. + </p> + <p> + Before disappearing through the aperture they stopped to play with Turc, + the ship's dog, a young Newfoundland with great clumsy paws. They sparred + at him, and he pretended to bite them like a young wolf, until he bit too + hard and hurt them, whereupon Yann, with a frown and anger in his + quick-changing eyes, pushed him aside with an impatient blow that sent him + flying and made him howl. Yann had a kind heart enough, but his nature + remained rather untamed, and when his physical being was touched, a tender + caress was often more like a manifestation of brutal violence. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER II—ICELANDERS + </h2> + <p> + Their smack was named <i>La Marie</i>, and her master was Captain + Guermeur. Every year she set sail for the big dangerous fisheries, in the + frigid regions where the summers have no night. She was a very old ship, + as old as the statuette of her patron saint itself. Her heavy, oaken + planks were rough and worn, impregnated with ooze and brine, but still + strong and stout, and smelling strongly of tar. At anchor she looked an + old unwieldy tub from her so massive build, but when blew the mighty + western gales, her lightness returned, like a sea-gull awakened by the + wind. Then she had her own style of tumbling over the rollers, and + rebounding more lightly than many newer ones, launched with all your new + fangles. + </p> + <p> + As for the crew of six men and the boy, they were “Icelanders,” the + valiant race of seafarers whose homes are at Paimpol and Treguier, and who + from father to son are destined for the cod fisheries. + </p> + <p> + They hardly ever had seen a summer in France. At the end of each winter + they, with other fishers, received the parting blessing in the harbour of + Paimpol. And for that fete-day an altar, always the same, and imitating a + rocky grotto, was erected on the quay; and over it, in the midst of + anchors, oars and nets, was enthroned the Virgin Mary, calm, and beaming + with affection, the patroness of sailors; she would be brought from her + chapel for the occasion, and had looked upon generation after generation + with her same lifeless eyes, blessing the happy for whom the season would + be lucky, and the others who never more would return. + </p> + <p> + The Host, followed by a slow procession of wives, mothers, sweethearts, + and sisters, was borne round the harbour, where the boats bound for + Iceland, bedecked in all colours, saluted it on its way. The priest halted + before each, giving them his holy blessing; and then the fleet started, + leaving the country desolate of husbands, lovers, and sons; and as the + shores faded from their view, the crews sang together in low, full voices, + the hymns sacred to “the Star of the Ocean.” And every year saw the same + ceremonies, and heard the same good-byes. + </p> + <p> + Then began the life out upon the open sea, in the solitude of three or + four rough companions, on the moving thin planks in the midst of the + seething waters of the northern seas. + </p> + <p> + Until now <i>La Marie</i> followed the custom of many Icelanders, which is + merely to touch at Paimpol, and then to sail down to the Gulf of Gascony, + where fish fetches high prices, or farther on to the Sandy Isles, with + their salty swamps, where they buy the salt for the next expedition. The + crews of lusty fellows stay a few days in the southern, sun-kissed + harbour-towns, intoxicated by the last rays of summer, by the sweetness of + the balmy air, and by the downright jollity of youth. + </p> + <p> + With the mists of autumn they return home to Paimpol, or to the scattered + huts of the land of Goelo, to remain some time in their families, in the + midst of love, marriages, and births. Very often they find unseen babies + upon their return, waiting for godfathers ere they can be baptized, for + many children are needed to keep up this race of fishermen, which the + Icelandic Moloch devours. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER III—THE WOMEN AT HOME + </h2> + <p> + At Paimpol, one fine evening of this same year, upon a Sunday in June, two + women were deeply busy in writing a letter. This took place before a large + open window, with a row of flowerpots on its heavy old granite sill. + </p> + <p> + As well as could be seen from their bending over the table, both were + young. Once wore a very large old-fashioned cap; the other quite a small + one, in the new style adopted by the women of Paimpol. They might have + been taken for two loving lasses writing a tender missive to some handsome + Icelander. + </p> + <p> + The one who dictated—the one with the large head-dress—drew up + her head, wool-gathering. Oh, she was old, very old, notwithstanding her + look from behind, in her small brown shawl—we mean downright old. A + sweet old granny, seventy at least. Very pretty, though, and still + fresh-coloured, with the rosy cheeks some old people have. Her <i>coiffe</i> + was drawn low upon the forehead and upon the top of the head, was composed + of two or three large rolls of muslin that seemed to telescope out of one + another, and fell on to the nape. Her venerable face, framed in the pure + white pleats, had almost a man's look, while her soft, tender eyes wore a + kindly expression. She had not the vestige of a tooth left, and when she + laughed she showed her round gums, which had still the freshness of youth. + </p> + <p> + Although her chin had become as pointed “as the toe of a <i>sabot</i>” (as + she was in the habit of saying), her profile was not spoiled by time; and + it was easily imagined that in her youth it had been regular and pure, + like the saints' adorning a church. + </p> + <p> + She looked through the window, trying to think of news that might amuse + her grandson at sea. There existed not in the whole country of Paimpol + another dear old body like her, to invent such funny stories upon + everybody, and even upon nothing. Already in this letter there were three + or four merry tales, but without the slightest mischief, for she had + nothing ill-natured about her. + </p> + <p> + The other woman, finding that the ideas were getting scarce, began to + write the address carefully: + </p> + <p> + “TO MONSIEUR MOAN, SYLVESTRE, ABOARD THE <i>MARIE</i>, co CAPTAIN + GUERMEUR, IN THE SEA OF ICELAND, NEAR RYKAWYK.” + </p> + <p> + Here she lifted her head to ask: “Is that all, Granny Moan?” + </p> + <p> + The querist was young, adorably young, a girl of twenty in fact; very fair—a + rare complexion in this corner of Brittany, where the race runs swarthy—very + fair, we say, with great grey eyes between almost black lashes; her brows, + as fair as the hair, seemed as if they had a darker streak in their midst, + which gave a wonderful expression of strength and will to the beautiful + face. The rather short profile was very dignified, the nose continuing the + line of the brow with absolute rectitude, as in a Greek statue. A deep + dimple under the lower lip foiled it up delightfully; and from time to + time, when she was absorbed by a particular idea, she bit this lower lip + with her white upper teeth, making the blood run in tiny red veins under + the delicate skin. In her supple form there was no little pride, with + gravity also, which she inherited from the bold Icelandic sailors, her + ancestors. The expression of her eyes was both steady and gentle. + </p> + <p> + Her cap was in the shape of a cockle-shell, worn low on the brow, and + drawn back on either side, showing thick tresses of hair about the ears, a + head-dress that has remained from remote times and gives quite an olden + look to the women of Paimpol. + </p> + <p> + One felt instinctively that she had been reared differently than the poor + old woman to whom she gave the name of grandmother, but who is reality was + but a distant great-aunt. + </p> + <p> + She was the daughter of M. Mevel, a former Icelander, a bit of a + freebooter, who had made a fortune by bold undertakings out at sea. + </p> + <p> + The fine room where the letter had been just written was hers; a new bed, + such as townspeople have, with muslin lace-edged curtains, and on the + stone walls a light-coloured paper, toning down the irregularities of the + granite; overhead a coating of whitewash covered the great beams that + revealed the antiquity of the abode; it was the home of well-to-do folk, + and the windows looked out upon the old gray market-place of Paimpol, + where the <i>pardons</i> are held. + </p> + <p> + “Is it done, Granny Yvonne? Have you nothing else to tell him?” + </p> + <p> + “No, my lass, only I would like you to add a word of greeting to young + Gaos.” + </p> + <p> + “Young Gaos” was otherwise called Yann. The proud beautiful girl had + blushed very red when she wrote those words. And as soon as they were + added at the bottom of the page, in a running hand, she rose and turned + her head aside as if to look at some very interesting object out on the + market-place. + </p> + <p> + Standing, she was rather tall; her waist was modelled in a clinging + bodice, as perfectly fitting as that of a fashionable dame. In spite of + her cap, she looked like a real lady. Even her hands, without being + conventionally small, were white and delicate, never having touched rough + work. + </p> + <p> + True, she had been at first little <i>Gaud</i> (Daisy), paddling + bare-footed in the water, motherless, almost wholly neglected during the + season of the fisheries, which her father spent in Iceland; a pretty, + untidy, obstinate girl, but growing vigorous and strong in the bracing + sea-breeze. In those days she had been sheltered, during the fine summers, + by poor Granny Moan, who used to give her Sylvestre to mind during her + days of hard work in Paimpol. Gaud felt the adoration of a young mother + for the child confided to her tender care. She was his elder by about + eighteen months. He was as dark as she was fair, as obedient and caressing + as she was hasty and capricious. She well remembered that part of her + life; neither wealth nor town life had altered it; and like a far-off + dream of wild freedom it came back to her, or as the remembrance of an + undefined and mysterious previous existence, where the sandy shores seemed + longer, and the cliffs higher and nobler. + </p> + <p> + Towards the age of five or six, which seemed long ago to her, wealth had + befallen her father, who began to buy and sell the cargoes of ships. She + had been taken to Saint-Brieuc, and later to Paris. And from <i>la petite + Gaud</i> she had become Mademoiselle Marguerite, tall and serious, with + earnest eyes. Always left to herself, in another kind of solitude than + that of the Breton coast, she still retained the obstinate nature of her + childhood. + </p> + <p> + Living in large towns, her dress had become more modified than herself. + Although she still wore the <i>coiffe</i> that Breton women discard so + seldom, she had learned to dress herself in another way. + </p> + <p> + Every year she had returned to Brittany with her father—in the + summer only, like a fashionable, coming to bathe in the sea—and + lived again in the midst of old memories, delighted to hear herself called + Gaud, rather curious to see the Icelanders of whom so much was said, who + were never at home, and of whom, each year, some were missing; on all + sides she heard the name of Iceland, which appeared to her as a distant + insatiable abyss. And there, now, was the man she loved! + </p> + <p> + One fine day she had returned to live in the midst of these fishers, + through a whim of her father, who had wished to end his days there, and + live like a landsman in the market-place of Paimpol. + </p> + <p> + The good old dame, poor but tidy, left Gaud with cordial thanks as soon as + the letter had been read again and the envelope closed. She lived rather + far away, at the other end of Ploubazlanec, in a hamlet on the coast, in + the same cottage where she first had seen the light of day, and where her + sons and grandsons had been born. In the town, as she passed along, she + answered many friendly nods; she was one of the oldest inhabitants of the + country, the last of a worthy and highly esteemed family. + </p> + <p> + With great care and good management she managed to appear pretty well + dressed, although her gowns were much darned, and hardly held together. + She always wore the tiny brown Paimpol shawl, which was for best, and upon + which the long muslin rolls of her white caps had fallen for past sixty + years; her own marriage shawl, formerly blue, had been dyed for the + wedding of her son Pierre, and since then worn only on Sundays, looked + quite nice. + </p> + <p> + She still carried herself very straight, not at all like an old woman; + and, in spite of her pointed chin, her soft eyes and delicate profile made + all think her still very charming. She was held in great respect—one + could see that if only by the nods that people gave her. + </p> + <p> + On her way she passed before the house of her gallant, the sweetheart of + former days, a carpenter by trade; now an octogenarian, who sat outside + his door all the livelong day, while the young ones, his sons, worked in + the shop. It was said that he never had consoled himself for her loss, for + neither in first or second marriage would she have him; but with old age + his feeling for her had become a sort of comical spite, half friendly and + half mischievous, and he always called out to her: + </p> + <p> + “Aha, <i>la belle</i>, when must I call to take your measure?” + </p> + <p> + But she declined with thanks; she had not yet quite decided to have that + dress made. The truth is, that the old man, with rather questionable + taste, spoke of the suit in deal planks, which is the last of all our + terrestrial garments. + </p> + <p> + “Well, whenever you like; but don't be shy in asking for it, you know, old + lady.” + </p> + <p> + He had made this joke several times; but, to-day, she could scarcely take + it good-naturedly. She felt more tired than ever of her hard-working life, + and her thoughts flew back to her dear grandson—the last of them + all, who, upon his return from Iceland, was to enter the navy for five + years! Perhaps he might have to go to China, to the war! Would she still + be about, upon his return? The thought alone was agony to her. No, she was + surely not so happy as she looked, poor old granny! + </p> + <p> + And was it really possible and true, that her last darling was to be torn + from her? She, perhaps, might die alone, without seeing him again! + Certainly, some gentlemen of the town, whom she knew, had done all they + could to keep him from having to start, urging that he was the sole + support of an old and almost destitute grandmother, who could no longer + work. But they had not succeeded—because of Jean Moan, the deserter, + an elder brother of Sylvestre's, whom no one in the family ever mentioned + now, but who still lived somewhere over in America, thus depriving his + younger brother of the military exemption. Moreover, it had been objected + that she had her small pension, allowed to the widows of sailors, and the + Admiralty could not deem her poor enough. + </p> + <p> + When she returned home, she said her prayers at length for all her dead + ones, sons and grandsons; then she prayed again with renewed strength and + confidence for her Sylvestre, and tried to sleep—thinking of the + “suit of wood,” her heart sadly aching at the thought of being so old, + when this new parting was imminent. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile, the other victim of separation, the girl, had remained seated + at her window, gazing upon the golden rays of the setting sun, reflected + on the granite walls, and the black swallows wheeling across the sky + above. Paimpol was always quiet on these long May evenings, even on + Sundays; the lasses, who had not a single lad to make love to them, + sauntered along, in couples or three together, brooding of their lovers in + Iceland. + </p> + <p> + “A word of greeting to young Gaos!” She had been greatly affected in + writing that sentence, and that name, which now she could not forget. She + often spent her evenings here at the window, like a grand lady. Her father + did not approve of her walking with the other girls of her age, who had + been her early playmates. And as he left the cafe, and walked up and down, + smoking his pipe with old seamen like himself, he was happy to look up at + his daughter among her flowers, in his grand house. + </p> + <p> + “Young Gaos!” Against her will she gazed seaward; it could not be seen, + but she felt it was nigh, at the end of the tiny street crowded with + fishermen. And her thoughts travelled through a fascinating and delightful + infinite, far, far away to the northern seas, where “<i>La Marie</i>, + Captain Guermeur,” was sailing. A strange man was young Gaos! retiring and + almost incomprehensible now, after having come forward so audaciously, yet + so lovingly. + </p> + <p> + In her long reverie, she remembered her return to Brittany, which had + taken place the year before. One December morning after a night of + travelling, the train from Paris had deposited her father and herself at + Guingamp. It was a damp, foggy morning, cold and almost dark. She had been + seized with a previously unknown feeling; she could scarcely recognise the + quaint little town, which she had only seen during the summer—oh, + that glad old time, the dear old times of the past! This silence, after + Paris! This quiet life of people, who seemed of another world, going about + their simple business in the misty morning. But the sombre granite houses, + with their dark, damp walls, and the Breton charm upon all things, which + fascinated her now that she loved Yann, had seemed particularly saddening + upon that morning. Early housewives were already opening their doors, and + as she passed she could glance into the old-fashioned houses, with their + tall chimney-pieces, where sat the old grandmothers, in their white caps, + quiet and dignified. As soon as daylight had begun to appear, she had + entered the church to say her prayers, and the grand old aisle had + appeared immense and shadowy to her—quite different from all the + Parisian churches—with its rough pillars worn at the base by the + chafing of centuries, and its damp, earthy smell of age and saltpetre. + </p> + <p> + In a damp recess, behind the columns, a taper was burning, before which + knelt a woman, making a vow; the dim flame seemed lost in the vagueness of + the arches. Gaud experienced there the feeling of a long-forgotten + impression: that kind of sadness and fear that she had felt when quite + young at being taken to mass at Paimpol Church on raw, wintry mornings. + </p> + <p> + But she hardly regretted Paris, although there were many splendid and + amusing sights there. In the first place she felt almost cramped from + having the blood of the vikings in her veins. And then, in Paris, she felt + like a stranger and an intruder. The <i>Parisiennes</i> were tight-laced, + artificial women, who had a peculiar way of walking; and Gaud was too + intelligent even to have attempted to imitate them. In her head-dress, + ordered every year from the maker in Paimpol, she felt out of her element + in the capital; and did not understand that if the wayfarers turned round + to look at her, it was only because she made a very charming picture. + </p> + <p> + Some of these Parisian ladies quite won her by their high-bred and + distinguished manners, but she knew them to be inaccessible to her, while + from others of a lower caste who would have been glad to make friends with + her, she kept proudly aloof, judging them unworthy of her attention. Thus + she had lived almost without friends, without other society than her + father's, who was engaged in business and often away. So she did not + regret that life of estrangement and solitude. + </p> + <p> + But, none the less, on that day of arrival she had been painfully + surprised by the bitterness of this Brittany, seen in full winter. And her + heart sickened at the thought of having to travel another five or six + hours in a jolting car—to penetrate still farther into the blank, + desolate country to reach Paimpol. + </p> + <p> + All through the afternoon of that same grisly day, her father and herself + had journeyed in a little old ramshackle vehicle, open to all the winds; + passing, with the falling night, through dull villages, under ghostly + trees, black-pearled with mist in drops. And ere long lanterns had to be + lit, and she could perceive nothing else but what seemed two trails of + green Bengal lights, running on each side before the horses, and which + were merely the beams that the two lanterns projected on the never-ending + hedges of the roadway. But how was it that trees were so green in the + month of December? Astonished at first, she bent to look out, and then she + remembered how the gorse, the evergreen gorse of the paths and the cliffs, + never fades in the country of Paimpol. At the same time a warmer breeze + began to blow, which she knew again and which smelt of the sea. + </p> + <p> + Towards the end of the journey she had been quite awakened and amused by + the new notion that struck her, namely: “As this is winter, I shall see + the famous fishermen of Iceland.” + </p> + <p> + For in December they were to return, the brothers, cousins, and lovers of + whom all her friends, great and small, had spoken to her during the long + summer evening walks in her holiday trips. And the thought had haunted + her, though she felt chilled in the slow-going vehicle. + </p> + <p> + Now she had seen them, and her heart had been captured by one of them too. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IV—FIRST LOVE + </h2> + <p> + The first day she had seen him, this Yann, was the day after his arrival, + at the “<i>Pardon des Islandais</i>,” which is on the eighth of December, + the fete-day of Our Lady of Bonne-Nouvelle, the patroness of fishers—a + little before the procession, with the gray streets, still draped in white + sheets, on which were strewn ivy and holly and wintry blossoms with their + leaves. + </p> + <p> + At this <i>Pardon</i> the rejoicing was heavy and wild under the sad sky. + Joy without merriment, composed chiefly of insouciance and contempt; of + physical strength and alcohol; above which floated, less disguised than + elsewhere, the universal warning of death. + </p> + <p> + A great clamour in Paimpol; sounds of bells mingled with the chants of the + priests. Rough and monotonous songs in the taverns—old sailor + lullabies—songs of woe, arisen from the sea, drawn from the deep + night of bygone ages. Groups of sailors, arm-in-arm, zigzagging through + the streets, from their habit of rolling, and because they were + half-drunk. Groups of girls in their nun-like white caps. Old granite + houses sheltering these seething crowds; antiquated roofs telling of their + struggles, through many centuries, against the western winds, the mist, + and the rain; and relating, too, many stories of love and adventure that + had passed under their protection. + </p> + <p> + And floating over all was a deep religious sentiment, a feeling of bygone + days, with respect for ancient veneration and the symbols that protect it, + and for the white, immaculate Virgin. Side by side with the taverns rose + the church, its deep sombre portals thrown open, and steps strewn with + flowers, with its perfume of incense, its lighted tapers, and the votive + offerings of sailors hung all over the sacred arch. And side by side also + with the happy girls were the sweethearts of dead sailors, and the widows + of the shipwrecked fishers, quitting the chapel of the dead in their long + mourning shawls and their smooth tiny <i>coiffes</i>; with eyes downward + bent, noiselessly they passed through the midst of this clamouring life, + like a sombre warning. And close to all was the everlasting sea, the huge + nurse and devourer of these vigorous generations, become fierce and + agitated as if to take part in the fete. + </p> + <p> + Gaud had but a confused impression of all these things together. Excited + and merry, yet with her heart aching, she felt a sort of anguish seize her + at the idea that this country had now become her own again. On the + market-place, where there were games and acrobats, she walked up and down + with her friends, who named and pointed out to her from time to time the + young men of Paimpol or Ploubazlanec. A group of these “Icelanders” were + standing before the singers of “<i>complaintes</i>,” (songs of woe) with + their backs turned towards them. And directly Gaud was struck with one of + them, tall as a giant, with huge shoulders almost too broad; but she had + simply said, perhaps with a touch of mockery: “There is one who is tall, + to say the least!” And the sentence implied beneath this was: “What an + incumbrance he'll be to the woman he marries, a husband of that size!” + </p> + <p> + He had turned round as if he had heard her, and had given her a quick + glance from top to toe, seeming to say: “Who is this girl who wears the <i>coiffe</i> + of Paimpol, who is so elegant, and whom I never have seen before?” + </p> + <p> + And he quickly bent his eyes to the ground for politeness' sake, and had + appeared to take a renewed interest in the singers, only showing the back + of his head and his black hair that fell in rather long curls upon his + neck. And although she had asked the names of several others, she had not + dared ask his. The fine profile, the grand half-savage look, the brown, + almost tawny pupils moving rapidly on the bluish opal of the eyes; all + this had impressed her and made her timid. + </p> + <p> + And it just happened to be that “Fils Gaos,” of whom she had heard the + Moans speak as a great friend of Sylvestre's. On the evening of this same + <i>Pardon</i>, Sylvestre and he, walking arm-in-arm, had crossed her + father and herself, and had stopped to wish them good-day. + </p> + <p> + And young Sylvestre had become again to her as a sort of brother. As they + were cousins they had continued to <i>tutoyer</i> (using thou for you, a + sign of familiarity) each other; true, she had at first hesitated doing so + to this great boy of seventeen, who already wore a black beard, but as his + kind, soft, childish eyes had hardly changed at all, she recognized him + soon enough to imagine that she had never lost sight of him. + </p> + <p> + When he used to come into Paimpol, she kept him to dinner of an evening; + it was without consequence to her, and he always had a very good appetite, + being on rather short rations at home. + </p> + <p> + To speak truly, Yann had not been very polite to her at this first + meeting, which took place at the corner of a tiny gray street, strewn with + green branches. He had raised his hat to her, with a noble though timid + gesture; and after having given her an ever-rapid glance, turned his eyes + away, as if he were vexed with this meeting and in a hurry to go. A strong + western breeze that had arisen during the procession, had scattered + branches of box everywhere and loaded the sky with dark gray draperies. + </p> + <p> + Gaud, in her dreamland of remembrances, saw all this clearly again; the + sad gloaming falling upon the remains of the <i>Pardon</i>; the sheets + strewn with white flowers floating in the wind along the walls; the noisy + groups of Icelanders, other waifs of the gales and tempests flocking into + the taverns, singing to cheer themselves under the gloom of the coming + rain; and above all, Gaud remembered the giant standing in front of her, + turning aside as if annoyed, and troubled at having met her. + </p> + <p> + What a wonderful change had come over her since then; and what a + difference there was between that hubbub and the present tranquility! How + quiet and empty Paimpol seemed to-night in the warm long twilight of May, + which kept her still at her window alone, lulled in her love's young + dream! + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER V—THE SECOND MEETING + </h2> + <p> + Their second meeting was at a wedding-feast. Young Gaos had been chosen to + offer her his arm. At first she had been rather vexed, not liking the idea + of strolling through the streets with this tall fellow, whom everybody + would stare at, on account of his excessive height, and who, most + probably, would not know what to speak to her about. Besides, he really + frightened her with his wild, lofty look. + </p> + <p> + At the appointed hour all were assembled for the wedding procession save + Yann, who had not appeared. Time passed, yet he did not come, and they + talked of giving up any further waiting for him. Then it was she + discovered that it was for his pleasure, and his alone, that she had + donned her best dress; with any other of the young men present at the + ball, the evening's enjoyment would be spoiled. + </p> + <p> + At last he arrived, in his best clothes also, apologizing, without any + embarrassment, to the bride's party. The excuse was, that some important + shoals of fish, not at all expected, had been telegraphed from England, as + bound to pass that night a little off Aurigny; and so all the boats of + Ploubazlanec hastily had set sail. There was great excitement in the + villages, women rushing about to find their husbands and urging them to + put off quickly, and struggling hard themselves to hoist the sails and + help in the launching; in fact, a regular “turnout” throughout the places, + though in the midst of the company Yann related this very simply; he had + been obliged to look out for a substitute and warrant him to the owner of + the boat to which he belonged for the winter season. It was this that had + caused him to be late, and in order not to miss the wedding, he had + “turned up” (abandoned) his share in the profits of the catch. His plea + was perfectly well understood by his hearers, no one thinking of blaming + him; for well all know that, in this coast life, all are more or less + dependent upon the unforeseen events at sea, and the mysterious migrations + of the fishy regions. The other Icelandes present were disappointed at not + having been warned in time, like the fishers of Ploubazlanec, of the + fortune that was skirting their very shores. + </p> + <p> + But it was too late now, worse luck! So they gave their arms to the + lasses, the violins began to play, and joyously they all tramped out. + </p> + <p> + At first Yann had only paid her a few innocent compliments, such as fall + to a chance partner met at a wedding, and of whom one knows but little. + Amidst all the couples in the procession, they formed the only one of + strangers, the others were all relatives or sweethearts. + </p> + <p> + But during the evening while the dancing was going on, the talk between + them had again turned to the subject of the fish, and looking her straight + in the eyes, he roughly said to her: + </p> + <p> + “You are the only person about Paimpol, and even in the world, for whom I + would have missed a windfall; truly, for nobody else would I have come + back from my fishing, Mademoiselle Gaud.” + </p> + <p> + At first she was rather astonished that this fisherman should dare so to + address her who had come to this ball rather like a young queen, but then + delighted, she had ended by answering: + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, Monsieur Yann; and I, too, would rather be with you than with + anybody else.” + </p> + <p> + That was all. But from that moment until the end of the dancing, they kept + on chatting in a different tone than before, low and soft-voiced. + </p> + <p> + The dancing was to the sound of a hurdy-gurdy and violin, the same couples + almost always together. When Yann returned to invite her again, after + having danced with another girl for politeness' sake, they exchanged a + smile, like friends meeting anew, and continued their interrupted + conversation, which had become very close. Simply enough, Yann spoke of + his fisher life, its hardships, its wage, and of his parents' difficulties + in former years, when they had fourteen little Gaoses to bring up, he + being the eldest. Now, the old folks were out of the reach of need, + because of a wreck that their father had found in the Channel, the sale of + which had brought in 10,000 francs, omitting the share claimed by the + Treasury. With the money they built an upper story to their house, which + was situated at the point of Ploubazlanec, at the very land's end, in the + hamlet of Pors-Even, overlooking the sea, and having a grand outlook. + </p> + <p> + “It is mighty tough, though,” said he, “this here life of an Icelander, + having to start in February for such a country, where it is awful cold and + bleak, with a raging, foaming sea.” + </p> + <p> + Gaud remembered every phrase of their conversation at the ball, as if it + had all happened yesterday, and details came regularly back to her mind, + as she looked upon the night falling over Paimpol. If Yann had had no idea + of marriage, why had he told her all the items of his existence, to which + she had listened, as only an engaged sweetheart would have done; he did + not seem a commonplace young man, prone to babbling his business to + everybody who came along. + </p> + <p> + “The occupation is pretty good, nevertheless,” he said, “and I shall never + change my career. Some years we make eight hundred francs, and others + twelve hundred, which I get upon my return, and hand over to the old + lady.” + </p> + <p> + “To your mother, Monsieur Yann, eh?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, every penny of it, always. It's the custom with us Icelanders, + Mademoiselle Gaud.” He spoke of this as a quite ordinary and natural + course. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps you'll hardly believe it, but I scarcely ever have any + pocket-money. Of a Sunday mother gives me a little when I come into + Paimpol. And so it goes all the time. Why, look 'ee here, this year my + father had these clothes made for me, without which treat I never could + have come to the wedding; certain sure, for I never should have dared + offer you my arm in my old duds of last year.” + </p> + <p> + For one like her, accustomed to seeing Parisians, Yann's habiliments were, + perhaps, not very stylish; a short jacket open over the old-fashioned + waistcoat; but the build of their wearer was irreproachably handsome, so + that he had a noble look withal. + </p> + <p> + Smiling, he looked at her straight in the depths of her eyes each time he + spoke to her, so as to divine her opinion. And how good and honest was his + look, as he told her all these short-comings, so that she might well + understand that he was not rich! + </p> + <p> + And she smiled also, as she gazed at him full in the face; answering + seldom, but listening with her whole soul, more and more astonished and + more and more drawn towards him. What a mixture of untamed roughness and + caressing childishness he was! His earnest voice, short and blunt towards + others, became softer and more and more tender as he spoke to her; and for + her alone he knew how to make it trill with extreme sweetness, like the + music of a stringed instrument with the mute upon it. + </p> + <p> + What a singular and astonishing fact it was to see this man of brawn, with + his free air and forbidding aspect, always treated by his family like a + child, and deeming it quite natural; having travelled over all the earth, + met with all sorts of adventures, incurred all dangers, and yet showing + the same respectful and absolute obedience to his parents. + </p> + <p> + She compared him to others, two or three dandies in Paris, clerks, + quill-drivers, or what not, who had pestered her with their attentions, + for the sake of her money. He seemed to be the best, as well as the most + handsome, man she had ever met. + </p> + <p> + To put herself more on an equality with him she related how, in her own + home, she had not always been so well-off as at present; that her father + had begun life as a fisherman off Iceland, and always held the Icelanders + in great esteem; and that she herself could clearly remember as a little + child, having run barefooted upon the beach, after her poor mother's + death. + </p> + <p> + Oh! the exquisite night of that ball, unique in her life! It seemed far + away now, for it dated back to December, and May had already returned. All + the sturdy partners of that evening were out fishing yonder now, scattered + over the far northern seas, in the clear pale sun, in intense loneliness, + while the dust thickened silently on the land of Brittany. + </p> + <p> + Still Gaud remained at her window. The market-place of Paimpol, hedged in + on all sides by the old-fashioned houses, became sadder and sadder with + the darkling; everywhere reigned silence. Above the housetops the still + brilliant space of the heavens seemed to grow more hollow, to raise itself + up and finally separate itself from all terrestrial things: these, in the + last hour of day, were entirely blended into the single dark outline of + the gables of olden roofs. + </p> + <p> + From time to time a window or door would be suddenly closed; some old + sailor, shaky upon his legs, would blunder out of the tavern and plunge + into the small dark streets; or girls passed by, returning home late after + their walk and carrying nosegays of May-flowers. One of them who knew + Gaud, calling out good-evening to her, held up a branch of hawthorn high + towards her as if to offer it her to smell; in the transparent darkness + she could distinguish the airy tufts of its white blossoms. From the + gardens and courts floated another soft perfume, that of the flowering + honeysuckle along the granite walls, mingled with a vague smell of seaweed + in the harbour. + </p> + <p> + Bats flew silently through the air above, like hideous creatures in a + dream. + </p> + <p> + Many and many an evening had Gaud passed at her window, gazing upon the + melancholy market-place, thinking of the Icelanders who were far away, and + always of that same ball. + </p> + <p> + Yann was a capital waltzer, as straight as a young oak, moving with a + graceful yet dignified bearing, his head thrown well back, his brown, + curled locks falling upon his brow, and floating with the motion of the + dance. Gaud, who was rather tall herself, felt their contact upon her cap, + as he bent towards her to grasp her more tightly during the swift + movements. + </p> + <p> + Now and then he pointed out to her his little sister Marie, dancing with + Sylvestre, who was her <i>fiance</i>. He smiled with a very tender look at + seeing them both so young and yet so reserved towards one another, bowing + gravely, and putting on very timid airs as they communed lowly, on most + amiable subjects, no doubt. + </p> + <p> + Of course, Yann would never have allowed it to be otherwise; yet it amused + him, venturesome and bold as he was, to find them so coy; and he and Gaud + exchanged one of their confidential smiles, seeming to say: “How pretty, + but how funny <i>our</i> little brother is!” + </p> + <p> + Towards the close of the evening, all the girls received the breaking-up + kiss; cousins, betrothed, and lovers, all, in a good frank, honest way, + before everybody. But, of course, Yann had not kissed Gaud; none might + take that liberty with the daughter of M. Mevel; but he seemed to strain + her a little more tightly to him during the last waltzes, and she, + trusting him, did not resist, but yielded closer still, giving up her + whole soul, in the sudden, deep, and joyous attraction that bound her to + him. + </p> + <p> + “Did you see the saucy minx, what eyes she made at him?” queried two or + three girls, with their own eyes timidly bent under their golden or black + brows, though they had among the dancers one or two lovers, to say the + least. And truly Gaud did look at Yann very hard, only she had the excuse + that he was the first and only young man whom she ever had noticed in her + life. + </p> + <p> + At dawn, when the party broke up and left in confusion, they had taken + leave of one another, like betrothed ones, who are sure to meet the + following day. To return home, she had crossed this same market-place with + her father, little fatigued, feeling light and gay, happy to breathe the + frosty fog, and loving the sad dawn itself, so sweet and enjoyable seemed + bare life. + </p> + <p> + The May night had long since fallen; nearly all the windows had closed + with a grating of their iron fittings, but Gaud remained at her place, + leaving hers open. The last passers-by, who could distinguish the white + cap in the darkness, might say to themselves, “That's surely some girl, + dreaming of her sweetheart.” It was true, for she was dreaming of hers, + with a wild desire to weep; her tiny teeth bit her lips and continually + opened and pursed up the deep dimple that outlined the under lip of her + fresh, pure mouth. Her eyes remained fixed on the darkness, seeing nothing + of tangible things. + </p> + <p> + But, after the ball, why had he not returned? What change had come over + him? Meeting him by chance, he seemed to avoid her, turning aside his + look, which was always fleeting, by the way. She had often debated this + with Sylvestre, who could not understand either. + </p> + <p> + “But still, he's the lad for you to marry, Gaud,” said Sylvestre, “if your + father allowed ye. In the whole country round you'd not find his like. + First, let me tell 'ee, he's a rare good one, though he mayn't look it. He + seldom gets tipsy. He sometimes is stubborn, but is very pliable for all + that. No, I can't tell 'ee how good he is! And such an A.B. seaman! Every + new fishing season the skippers regularly fight to have him.” + </p> + <p> + She was quite sure of her father's permission, for she never had been + thwarted in any of her whims. And it mattered little to her whether Yann + were rich or not. To begin with, a sailor like him would need but a little + money in advance to attend the classes of the coast navigation school, and + might shortly become a captain whom all shipowners would gladly intrust + with their vessels. It also mattered little to her that he was such a + giant; great strength may become a defect in a woman, but in a man is not + prejudicial to good looks. + </p> + <p> + Without seeming to care much, she had questioned the girls of the country + round about, who knew all the love stories going; but he had no recognized + engagement with any one, he paid no more attention to one than another, + but roved from right to left, to Lezardrieux as well as to Paimpol, to all + the beauties who cared to receive his address. + </p> + <p> + One Sunday evening, very late, she had seen him pass under her windows, in + company with one Jeannie Caroff, whom he tucked under his wing very + closely; she was pretty, certainly, but had a very bad reputation. This + had pained Gaud very much indeed. She had been told that he was very + quick-tempered: one night being rather tipsy in a tavern of Paimpol, where + the Icelanders held their revels, he had thrown a great marble table + through a door that they would not open to him. But she forgave him all + that; we all know what sailors are sometimes when the fit takes them. But + if his heart were good, why had he sought one out who never had thought of + him, to leave her afterward; what reason had he had to look at her for a + whole evening with his fair, open smile, and to use his softest, tenderest + voice to speak to her of his affairs as to a betrothed? Now, it was + impossible for her to become attached to another, or to change. In this + same country, when quite a child, she was used to being scolded when + naughty and called more stubborn than any other child in her ideas; and + she had not altered. Fine lady as she was now, rather serious and proud in + her ways, none had refashioned her, and she remained always the same. + </p> + <p> + After this ball, the past winter had been spent in waiting to see him + again, but he had not even come to say good-bye before his departure for + Iceland. Since he was no longer by, nothing else existed in her eyes; + slowly time seemed to drag until the return in autumn, when she had made + up her mind to put an end to her doubts. + </p> + <p> + The town-hall clock struck eleven, with that peculiar resonance that bells + have during the quiet spring nights. At Paimpol eleven o'clock is very + late; so Gaud closed her window and lit her lamp, to go to bed. + </p> + <p> + Perhaps it was only shyness in Yann, after all, or was it because, being + proud also, he was afraid of a refusal, as she was so rich? She wanted to + ask him this herself straightforwardly, but Sylvestre thought that it + would not be the right thing, and it would not look well for her to appear + so bold. In Paimpol already her manners and dress were sufficiently + criticised. + </p> + <p> + She undressed slowly as if in a dream; first her muslin cap, then her + town-cut dress, which she threw carelessly on a chair. The little lamp, + alone to burn at this late hour, bathed her shoulders and bosom in its + mysterious light, her perfect form, which no eye ever had contemplated, + and never could contemplate if Yann did not marry her. She knew her face + was beautiful, but she was unconscious of the beauty of her figure. In + this remote land, among daughters of fishers, beauty of shape is almost + part of the race; it is scarcely ever noticed, and even the least + respectable women are ashamed to parade it. + </p> + <p> + Gaud began to unbraid her tresses, coiled in the shape of a snail-shell + and rolled round her ears, and two plaits fell upon her shoulders like + weighty serpents. She drew them up into a crown on the top of her head—this + was comfortable for sleeping—so that, by reason of her straight + profile, she looked like a Roman vestal. + </p> + <p> + She still held up her arms, and biting her lip, she slowly ran her fingers + through the golden mass, like a child playing with a toy, while thinking + of something else; and again letting it fall, she quickly unplaited it to + spread it out; soon she was covered with her own locks, which fell to her + knees, looking like some Druidess. + </p> + <p> + And sleep having come, notwithstanding love and an impulse to weep, she + threw herself roughly in her bed, hiding her face in the silken masses + floating round her outspread like a veil. + </p> + <p> + In her hut in Ploubazlanec, Granny Moan, who was on the other and darker + side of her life, had also fallen to sleep—the frozen sleep of old + age—dreaming of her grandson and of death. + </p> + <p> + And at this same hour, on board the <i>Marie</i>, on the Northern Sea, + which was very heavy on this particular evening, Yann and Sylvestre—the + two longed-for rovers—sang ditties to one another, and went on gaily + with their fishing in the everlasting daylight. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VI—NEWS FROM HOME + </h2> + <p> + About a month later, around Iceland, the weather was of that rare kind + that the sailors call a dead calm; in other words, in the air nothing + moved, as if all the breezes were exhausted and their task done. + </p> + <p> + The sky was covered with a white veil, which darkened towards its lower + border near the horizon, and gradually passed into dull gray leaden tints; + over this the still waters threw a pale light, which fatigued the eyes and + chilled the gazer through and through. All at once, liquid designs played + over the surface, such light evanescent rings as one forms by breathing on + a mirror. The sheen of the waters seemed covered with a net of faint + patterns, which intermingled and reformed, rapidly disappearing. + Everlasting night or everlasting day, one could scarcely say what it was; + the sun, which pointed to no special hour, remained fixed, as if presiding + over the fading glory of dead things; it appeared but as a mere ring, + being almost without substance, and magnified enormously by a shifting + halo. + </p> + <p> + Yann and Sylvestre, leaning against one another, sang “Jean-Francois de + Nantes,” the song without an end; amused by its very monotony, looking at + one another from the corner of their eyes as if laughing at the childish + fun, with which they began the verses over and over again, trying to put + fresh spirit into them each time. Their cheeks were rosy under the sharp + freshness of the morning: the pure air they breathed was strengthening, + and they inhaled it deep down in their chests, the very fountain of all + vigorous existence. And yet, around them, was a semblance of + non-existence, of a world either finished or not yet created; the light + itself had no warmth; all things seemed without motion, and as if chilled + for eternity under the great ghostly eye that represented the sun. + </p> + <p> + The <i>Marie</i> projected over the sea a shadow long and black as night, + or rather appearing deep green in the midst of the polished surface, which + reflected all the purity of the heavens; in this shadowed part, which had + no glitter, could be plainly distinguished through the transparency, + myriads upon myriads of fish, all alike, gliding slowly in the same + direction, as if bent towards the goal of their perpetual travels. They + were cod, performing their evolutions all as parts of a single body, + stretched full length in the same direction, exactly parallel, offering + the effect of gray streaks, unceasingly agitated by a quick motion that + gave a look of fluidity to the mass of dumb lives. Sometimes, with a + sudden quick movement of the tail, all turned round at the same time, + showing the sheen of their silvered sides; and the same movement was + repeated throughout the entire shoal by slow undulations, as if a thousand + metal blades had each thrown a tiny flash of lightning from under the + surface. + </p> + <p> + The sun, already very low, lowered further; so night had decidedly come. + As the great ball of flame descended into the leaden-coloured zones that + surrounded the sea, it grew yellow, and its outer rim became more clear + and solid. Now it could be looked straight at, as if it were but the moon. + Yet it still gave out light and looked quite near in the immensity; it + seemed that by going in a ship, only so far as the edge of the horizon, + one might collide with the great mournful globe, floating in the air just + a few yards above the water. + </p> + <p> + Fishing was going on well; looking into the calm water, one could see + exactly what took place; how the cod came to bite, with a greedy spring; + then, feeling themselves hooked, wriggled about, as if to hook themselves + still firmer. And every moment, with rapid action, the fishermen hauled in + their lines, hand overhand, throwing the fish to the man who was to clean + them and flatten them out. + </p> + <p> + The Paimpol fleet were scattered over the quiet mirror, animating the + desert. Here and there appeared distant sails, unfurled for mere form's + sake, considering there was no breeze. They were like clear white outlines + upon the greys of the horizon. In this dead calm, fishing off Iceland + seemed so easy and tranquil a trade that ladies' yachting was no name for + it. + </p> + <p> + “Jean Francois de Nantes; Jean Francois, Jean Francois!” + </p> + <p> + So they sang, like a couple of children. + </p> + <p> + Yann little troubled whether or no he was handsome and good-looking. He + was boyish only with Sylvestre, it is true, and sang and joked with no + other; on the contrary, he was rather distant with the others and proud + and disdainful—very willing though, when his help was required, and + always kind and obliging when not irritated. + </p> + <p> + So the twain went on singing their song, with two others, a few steps off, + singing another, a dirge—a clashing of sleepiness, health, and vague + melancholy. But they did not feel dull, and the hours flew by. + </p> + <p> + Down in the cabin a fire still smouldered in the iron range, and the hatch + was kept shut, so as to give the appearance of night there for those who + needed sleep. They required but little air to sleep; indeed, less robust + fellows, brought up in towns, would have wanted more. They used to go to + bed after the watch at irregular times, just when they felt inclined, + hours counting for little in this never-fading light. And they always + slept soundly and peacefully without restlessness or bad dreams. + </p> + <p> + “Jean Francois de Nantes; Jean Francois, Jean Francois!” + </p> + <p> + They looked attentively at some almost imperceptible object, far off on + the horizon, some faint smoke rising from the waters like a tiny jot of + another gray tint slightly darker than the sky's. Their eyes were used to + plumbing depths, and they had seen it. + </p> + <p> + “A sail, a sail, thereaway!” + </p> + <p> + “I have an idea,” said the skipper, staring attentively, “that it's a + government cruiser coming on her inspection-round.” + </p> + <p> + This faint smoke brought news of home to the sailors, and among others, a + letter we wrote of, from an old grandam, written by the hand of a + beautiful girl. Slowly the steamer approached till they perceived her + black hull. Yes, it was the cruiser, making the inspection in these + western fjords. + </p> + <p> + At the same time, a slight breeze sprang up, fresher yet to inhale, and + began to tarnish the surface of the still waters in patches; it traced + designs in a bluish green tint over the shining mirror, and scattering in + trails, these fanned out or branched off like a coral tree; all very + rapidly with a low murmur; it was like a signal of awakening foretelling + the end of this intense torpor. The sky, its veil being rent asunder, grew + clear; the vapours fell down on the horizon, massing in heaps like + slate-coloured wadding, as if to form a soft bank to the sea. The two + ever-during mirrors between which the fishermen lived, the one on high and + the one beneath, recovered their deep lucidity, as if the mists tarnishing + them had been brushed away. + </p> + <p> + The weather was changing in a rapid way that foretold no good. Smacks + began to arrive from all points of the immense plane; first, all the + French smacks in the vicinity, from Brittany, Normandy, Boulogne, or + Dunkirk. Like birds flocking to a call, they assembled round the cruiser; + from the apparently empty corners of the horizon, others appeared on every + side; their tiny gray wings were seen till they peopled the pallid waste. + </p> + <p> + No longer slowly drifting, for they had spread out their sails to the new + and cool breeze, and cracked on all to approach. + </p> + <p> + Far-off Iceland also reappeared, as if she would fain come near them also; + showing her great mountains of bare stones more distinctly than ever. + </p> + <p> + And there arose a new Iceland of similar colour, which little by little + took a more definite form, and none the less was purely illusive, its + gigantic mountains merely a condensation of mists. The sun, sinking low, + seemed incapable of ever rising over all things, though glowing through + this phantom island so tangible that it seemed placed in front of it. + Incomprehensible sight! no longer was it surrounded by a halo, but its + disc had become firmly spread, rather like some faded yellow planet slowly + decaying and suddenly checked there in the heart of chaos. + </p> + <p> + The cruiser, which had stopped, was fully surrounded by the fleet of + Icelanders. From all boats were lowered, like so many nut-shells, and + conveyed their strong, long-bearded men, in barbaric-looking dresses, to + the steamer. + </p> + <p> + Like children, all had something to beg for; remedies for petty ailments, + materials for repairs, change of diet, and home letters. Others came, sent + by their captains, to be clapped in irons, to expiate some fault; as they + had all been in the navy, they took this as a matter of course. When the + narrow deck of the cruiser was blocked-up by four or five of these hulking + fellows, stretched out with the bilboes round their feet, the old sailor + who had just chained them up called out to them, “Roll o' one side, my + lads, to let us work, d'ye hear?” which they obediently did with a grin. + </p> + <p> + There were a great many letters this time for the Iceland fleet. Among the + rest, two for “<i>La Marie</i>, Captain Guermeur”; one addressed to + “Monsieur Gaos, Yann,” the other to “Monsieur Moan, Sylvestre.” The latter + had come by way of Rykavyk, where the cruiser had taken it on. + </p> + <p> + The purser, diving into his post-bags of sailcloth, distributed them all + round, often finding it hard to read the addresses, which were not always + written very skilfully, while the captain kept on saying: “Look alive + there, look alive! the barometer is falling.” + </p> + <p> + He was rather anxious to see all the tiny yawls afloat, and so many + vessels assembled in that dangerous region. + </p> + <p> + Yann and Sylvestre used to read their letters together. This time they + read them by the light of the midnight sun, shining above the horizon, + still like a dead luminary. Sitting together, a little to one side, in a + retired nook of the deck, their arms about each other's shoulders, they + very slowly read, as if to enjoy more thoroughly the news sent them from + home. + </p> + <p> + In Yann's letter Sylvestre got news of Marie Gaos, his little sweetheart; + in Sylvestre's, Yann read all Granny Moan's funny stories, for she had not + her like for amusing the absent ones you will remember; and the last + paragraph concerning him came up: the “word of greeting to young Gaos.” + </p> + <p> + When the letters were got through, Sylvestre timidly showed his to his big + friend, to try and make him admire the writing of it. + </p> + <p> + “Look, is it not pretty writing, Yann?” + </p> + <p> + But Yann, who knew very well whose hand had traced it, turned aside, + shrugging his shoulders, as much as to say that he was worried too often + about this Gaud girl. + </p> + <p> + So Sylvestre carefully folded up the poor, rejected paper, put it into its + envelope and all in his jersey, next his breast, saying to himself sadly: + “For sure, they'll never marry. But what on earth can he have to say + against her?” + </p> + <p> + Midnight was struck on the cruiser's bell. And yet our couple remained + sitting there, thinking of home, the absent ones, a thousand things in + reverie. At this same moment the everlasting sun, which had dipped its + lower edge into the waters, began slowly to reascend, and lo! this was + morning. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_PART2" id="link2H_PART2"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + PART II — IN THE BRETON LAND + </h2> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER I—THE PLAYTHING OF THE STORM + </h2> + <p> + The Northern sun had taken another aspect and changed its colour, opening + the new day by a sinister morn. Completely free from its veil, it gave + forth its grand rays, crossing the sky in fitful flashes, foretelling + nasty weather. During the past few days it had been too fine to last. The + winds blew upon that swarm of boats, as if to clear the sea of them; and + they began to disperse and flee, like an army put to rout, before the + warning written in the air, beyond possibility to misread. Harder and + harder it blew, making men and ships quake alike. + </p> + <p> + And the still tiny waves began to run one after another and to melt + together; at first they were frosted over with white foam spread out in + patches; and then, with a whizzing sound, arose smoke as though they + burned and scorched, and the whistling grew louder every moment. + Fish-catching was no longer thought of; it was their work on deck. The + fishing lines had been drawn in, and all hurried to make sail and some to + seek for shelter in the fjords, while yet others preferred to round the + southern point of Iceland, finding it safer to stand for the open sea, + with the free space about them, and run before the stern wind. They could + still see each other a while: here and there, above the trough of the sea, + sails wagged as poor wearied birds fleeing; the masts tipped, but ever and + anon righted, like the weighted pith figures that similarly resume an + erect attitude when released after being blown down. + </p> + <p> + The illimitable cloudy roof, erstwhile compacted towards the western + horizon, in an island form, began to break up on high and send its + fragments over the surface. It seemed indestructible, for vainly did the + winds stretch it, pull and toss it asunder, continually tearing away dark + strips, which they waved over the pale yellow sky, gradually becoming + intensely and icily livid. Ever more strongly grew the wind that threw all + things in turmoil. + </p> + <p> + The cruiser had departed for shelter at Iceland; some fishers alone + remained upon the seething sea, which now took an ill-boding look and a + dreadful colour. All hastily made preparations for bad weather. Between + one and another the distance grew greater, till some were lost sight of. + </p> + <p> + The waves, curling up in scrolls, continued to run after each other, to + reassemble and climb on one another, and between them the hollows + deepened. + </p> + <p> + In a few hours, everything was belaboured and overthrown in these regions + that had been so calm the day before, and instead of the past silence, the + uproar was deafening. The present agitation was a dissolving view, + unconscientious and useless, and quickly accomplished. What was the object + of it all? What a mystery of blind destruction it was! + </p> + <p> + The clouds continued to stream out on high, out of the west continually, + racing and darkening all. A few yellow clefts remained, through which the + sun shot its rays in volleys. And the now greenish water was striped more + thickly with snowy froth. + </p> + <p> + By midday the <i>Marie</i> was made completely snug for dirty weather: her + hatches battened down, and her sails storm-reefed; she bounded lightly and + elastic; for all the horrid confusion, she seemed to be playing like the + porpoises, also amused in storms. With her foresail taken in, she simply + scudded before the wind. + </p> + <p> + It had become quite dark overhead, where stretched the heavily crushing + vault. Studded with shapeless gloomy spots, it appeared a set dome, unless + a steadier gaze ascertained that everything was in the full rush of + motion; endless gray veils were drawn along, unceasingly followed by + others, from the profundities of the sky-line—draperies of darkness, + pulled from a never-ending roll. + </p> + <p> + The <i>Marie</i> fled faster and faster before the wind; and time fled + also—before some invisible and mysterious power. The gale, the sea, + the <i>Marie</i>, and the clouds were all lashed into one great madness of + hasty flight towards the same point. The fastest of all was the wind; then + the huge seething billows, heavier and slower, toiling after; and, lastly, + the smack, dragged into the general whirl. The waves tracked her down with + their white crests, tumbling onward in continual motion, and she—though + always being caught up to and outrun—still managed to elude them by + means of the eddying waters she spurned in her wake, upon which they + vented their fury. In this similitude of flight the sensation particularly + experienced was of buoyancy, the delight of being carried along without + effort or trouble, in a springy sort of way. The <i>Marie</i> mounted over + the waves without any shaking, as if the wind had lifted her clean up; and + her subsequent descent was a slide. She almost slid backward, though, at + times, the mountains lowering before her as if continuing to run, and then + she suddenly found herself dropped into one of the measureless hollows + that evaded her also; without injury she sounded its horrible depths, amid + a loud splashing of water, which did not even sprinkle her decks, but was + blown on and on like everything else, evaporating in finer and finer spray + until it was thinned away to nothing. In the trough it was darker, and + when each wave had passed the men looked behind them to see if the next to + appear were higher; it came upon them with furious contortions, and + curling crests, over its transparent emerald body, seeming to shriek: + “Only let me catch you, and I'll swallow you whole!” + </p> + <p> + But this never came to pass, for, as a feather, the billows softly bore + them up and then down so gently; they felt it pass under them, with all + its boiling surf and thunderous roar. And so on continually, but the sea + getting heavier and heavier. One after another rushed the waves, more and + more gigantic, like a long chain of mountains, with yawning valleys. And + the madness of all this movement, under the ever-darkening sky, + accelerated the height of the intolerable clamour. + </p> + <p> + Yann and Sylvestre stood at the helm, still singing, “Jean Francois de + Nantes”; intoxicated with the quiver of speed, they sang out loudly, + laughing at their inability to hear themselves in this prodigious wrath of + the wind. + </p> + <p> + “I say, lads, does it smell musty up here too?” called out Guermeur to + them, passing his bearded face up through the half-open hatchway, like + Jack-in-the-box. + </p> + <p> + Oh, no! it certainly did not smell musty on deck. They were not at all + frightened, being quite conscious of what men can cope with, having faith + in the strength of their barkey and their arms. And they furthermore + relied upon the protection of that china Virgin, which had voyaged forty + years to Iceland, and so often had danced the dance of this day, smiling + perpetually between her branches of artificial flowers. + </p> + <p> + Generally speaking, they could not see far around them; a few hundred + yards off, all seemed entombed in the fearfully big billows, with their + frothing crests shutting out the view. They felt as if in an enclosure, + continually altering shape; and, besides, all things seemed drowned in the + aqueous smoke, which fled before them like a cloud with the greatest + rapidity over the heaving surface. But from time to time a gleam of + sunlight pierced through the north-west sky, through which a squall + threatened; a shuddering light would appear from above, a rather spun-out + dimness, making the dome of the heavens denser than before, and feebly + lighting up the surge. This new light was sad to behold; far-off glimpses + as they were, that gave too strong an understanding that the same chaos + and the same fury lay on all sides, even far, far behind the seemingly + void horizon; there was no limit to its expanse of storm, and they stood + alone in its midst! + </p> + <p> + A tremendous tumult arose all about, like the prelude of an apocalypse, + spreading the terror of the ultimate end of the earth. And amidst it + thousands of voices could be heard above, shrieking, bellowing, calling, + as from a great distance. It was only the wind, the great motive breath of + all this disorder, the voice of the invisible power ruling all. Then came + other voices, nearer and less indefinite, threatening destruction, and + making the water shudder and hiss as if on burning coals; the disturbance + increased in terror. + </p> + <p> + Notwithstanding their flight, the sea began to gain on them, to “bury them + up,” as they phrased it: first the spray fell down on them from behind, + and masses of water thrown with such violence as to break everything in + their course. The waves were ever increasing, and the tempest tore off + their ridges and hurled them, too, upon the poop, like a demon's game of + snowballing, till dashed to atoms on the bulwarks. Heavier masses fell on + the planks with a hammering sound, till the <i>Marie</i> shivered + throughout, as if in pain. Nothing could be distinguished over the side, + because of the screen of creamy foam; and when the winds soughed more + loudly, this foam formed into whirling spouts, like the dust of the way in + summer time. At length a heavy rain fell crossways, and soon straight up + and down, and how all these elements of destruction yelled together, + clashed and interlocked, no tongue can tell. + </p> + <p> + Yann and Sylvestre stuck staunchly to the helm, covered with their + waterproofs, hard and shiny as sharkskin; they had firmly secured them at + the throat by tarred strings, and likewise at wrists and ankles to prevent + the water from running in, and the rain only poured off them; when it fell + too heavily, they arched their backs, and held all the more stoutly, not + to be thrown over the board. Their cheeks burned, and every minute their + breath was beaten out or stopped. + </p> + <p> + After each sea was shipped and rushed over, they exchanged glances, + grinning at the crust of salt settled in their beards. + </p> + <p> + In the long run though, this became tiresome, an unceasing fury, which + always promised a worse visitation. The fury of men and beasts soon falls + and dies away; but the fury of lifeless things, without cause or object, + is as mysterious as life and death, and has to be borne for very long. + </p> + <p> + “Jean Francois de Nantes; + </p> + <p> + Jean Francois, + </p> + <p> + Jean Francois!” + </p> + <p> + Through their pale lips still came the refrain of the old song, but as + from a speaking automaton, unconsciously taken up from time to time. The + excess of motion and uproar had made them dumb, and despite their youth + their smiles were insincere, and their teeth chattered with cold; their + eyes, half-closed under their raw, throbbing eyelids, remained glazed in + terror. Lashed to the helm, like marble caryatides, they only moved their + numbed blue hands, almost without thinking, by sheer muscular habit. With + their hair streaming and mouths contracted, they had become changed, all + the primitive wildness in man appearing again. They could not see one + another truly, but still were aware of being companioned. In the instants + of greatest danger, each time that a fresh mountain of water rose behind + them, came to overtower them, and crash horribly against their boat, one + of their hands would move as if involuntarily, to form the sign of the + cross. They no more thought of Gaud than of any other woman, or any + marrying. The travail was lasting too long, and they had no thoughts left. + The intoxication of noise, cold, and fatigue drowned all in their brain. + They were merely two pillars of stiffened human flesh, held up by the + helm; two strong beasts, cowering, but determined they would not be + overwhelmed. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER II—A PARDONABLE RUSE + </h2> + <p> + In Brittany, towards the end of September, on an already chilly day, Gaud + was walking alone across the common of Ploubazlanec, in the direction of + Pors-Even. + </p> + <p> + The Icelanders had returned a month back, except two, which had perished + in that June gale. But the <i>Marie</i> had held her own, and Yann and all + her crew were peacefully at home. + </p> + <p> + Gaud felt very troubled at the idea of going to Yann's house. She had seen + him once since the return from Iceland, when they had all gone together to + see poor little Sylvestre off to the navy. They accompanied him to the + coaching-house, he blubbering a little and his grandmother weeping, and he + had started to join the fleet at Brest. + </p> + <p> + Yann, who had come also to bid good-bye to his little friend, had feigned + to look aside when Gaud looked at him, and as there were many people round + the coach to see the other sailors off, and parents assembled to say + good-bye, the pair had not a chance to speak. So, at last, she had formed + a strong resolution, and rather timidly wended her way towards the Gaos's + home. + </p> + <p> + Her father had formerly had mutual interests with Yann's father + (complicated business, which, with peasants and fishers alike, seems to be + endless), and owed him a hundred francs for the sale of a boat, which had + just taken place in a raffle. + </p> + <p> + “You ought to let me carry the money to him, father,” she had said. “I + shall be pleased to see Marie Gaos. I never have been so far in + Ploubazlanec, either, and I shall enjoy the long walk.” + </p> + <p> + To speak the truth, she was curiously anxious to know Yann's family, which + she might some day enter; and she also wanted to see the house and + village. + </p> + <p> + In one of their last chats, before his departure, Sylvestre had explained + to her, in his own way, his friend's shyness. + </p> + <p> + “D'ye see, Gaud, he's like this, he won't marry anybody, that's his idea; + he only loves the sea, and one day even, in fun, he said he had promised + to be wedded to it.” + </p> + <p> + Whereupon, she forgave him all his peculiar ways, and remembered only his + beautiful open smile on the night of the ball, and she hoped on and on. + </p> + <p> + If she were to meet him in his home, of course she would say nothing; she + had no intention of being so bold. But if he saw her closely again, + perhaps he might speak. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER III—OF SINISTER PORTENT + </h2> + <p> + She had been walking for the last hour, lightly yet oppressed, inhaling + the healthy open breeze whistling up the roads to where they crossed and + <i>Calvaires</i> were erected, ghastly highway ornaments of our Saviour on + His cross, to which Bretons are given. + </p> + <p> + From time to time she passed through small fishing villages, which are + beaten about by the winds the whole year through till of the colour of the + rocks. In one of these hamlets, where the path narrows suddenly between + dark walls, and between the whitewashed roofs, high and pointed like + Celtic huts, a tavern sign-board made her smile. It was “The Chinese Cider + Cellars.” On it were painted two grotesque figures, dressed in green and + pink robes, with pigtails, drinking cider. No doubt the whim of some old + sailor who had been in China. She saw all on her way; people who are + greatly engrossed in the object of a journey always find more amusement + than others in its thousand details. + </p> + <p> + The tiny village was far behind her now, and as she advanced in this last + promontory of the Breton land, the trees around her became more scarce, + and the country more mournful. + </p> + <p> + The ground was undulating and rocky, and from all the heights the open sea + could be seen. No more trees now; nothing but the shorn heaths with their + green reeds, and here and there the consecrated crosses rose, their + outstretched arms outlined against the sky, giving the whole country the + aspect of a cemetery. + </p> + <p> + At one of the cross-ways, guarded by a colossal image of Christ, she + hesitated between two roads running among thorny slopes. + </p> + <p> + A child happening to pass, came to her rescue: “Good-day, Mademoiselle + Gaud!” + </p> + <p> + It was one of the little Gaoses, one of Yann's wee sisters. Gaud kissed + her and asked her if her parents were at home. + </p> + <p> + “Father and mother are, yes. But brother Yann,” said the little one, + without intent, of course, “has gone to Loguivy; but I don't think he'll + be very late home again.” + </p> + <p> + So he was not there? Again destiny was between them, everywhere and + always. She thought at first of putting off her visit to another day. But + the little lass who had met her might mention the fact. What would they + think at Pors-Even? So she decided to go on, but loitering so as to give + Yann time to return. + </p> + <p> + As she neared his village, in this lost country, all things seemed rougher + and more desolate. Sea breezes that made men stronger, made shorter and + more stubbly plants. Seaweeds of all kinds were scattered over the paths, + leaves from growths in another element, proving the existence of a + neighbouring world; their briny odour mingled with the perfume of the + heather. + </p> + <p> + Now and again Gaud met passers-by, sea-folk, who could be seen a long way + off, over the bare country, outlined and magnified against the high + sea-line. Pilots or fishers, seeming to watch the great sea, in passing + her wished her good-day. Broad sun-burnt faces were theirs, manly and + determined under their easy caps. + </p> + <p> + Time did not go quickly enough, and she really did not know what to do to + lengthen the way; these people seemed surprised at seeing her walk so + slowly. + </p> + <p> + What could Yann be doing at Loguivy? Courting the girls, perhaps. + </p> + <p> + Ah! if she only had known how little he troubled his head about them! He + had simply gone to Loguivy to give an order to a basket-maker, who was the + only one in the country knowing how to weave lobster pots. His mind was + very free from love just now. + </p> + <p> + She passed a chapel, at such a height it could be seen remotely. It was a + little gray old chapel in the midst of the barren. A clump of trees, gray + too, and almost leafless, seemed like hair to it, pushed by some invisible + hand all on one side. + </p> + <p> + It was that same hand that had wrecked the fishers' boats, the eternal + hand of the western winds, and had twisted all the branches of the coast + trees in the direction of the waves and of the off-sea breezes. The old + trees had grown awry and dishevelled, bending their backs under the + time-honoured strength of that hand. + </p> + <p> + Gaud was almost at the end of her walk, as the chapel in sight was that of + Pors-Even; so she stopped there to win a little more time. + </p> + <p> + A petty mouldering wall ran round an enclosure containing tombstones. + Everything was of the same colour, chapel, trees, and graves; the whole + spot seemed faded and eaten into by the sea-wind; the stones, the knotty + branches, and the granite saints, placed in the wall niches, were covered + by the same grayish lichen, splashed pale yellow. + </p> + <p> + On one of the wooden crosses this name was written in large letters: + </p> + <p> + “GAOS.—GAOS, JOEL, 80 years.” + </p> + <p> + Yes, this was the old grandfather—she knew that—for the sea + had not wanted this old sailor. And many of Yann's relatives, besides, + slept here; it was only natural, and she might have expected it; + nevertheless, the name upon the tomb had made a sad impression. + </p> + <p> + To waste a little more time, she entered to say a prayer under the old + cramped porch, worn away and daubed over with whitewash. But she stopped + again with a sharp pain at her heart. “Gaos”—again that name, + engraved upon one of the slabs erected in memory of those who die at sea. + </p> + <p> + She read this inscription: + </p> + <p> + “To the Memory of GAOS, JEAN-LOUIS, Aged 24 years; seaman on board the <i>Marguerite</i>. + Disappeared off Iceland, August 3d, 1877. May he rest in peace!” + </p> + <p> + Iceland—always Iceland! All over the porch were wooden slabs bearing + the names of dead sailors. It was the place reserved for the shipwrecked + of Pors-Even. Filled with a dark foreboding she was sorry to have gone + there. + </p> + <p> + In Paimpol church she had seen many such inscriptions; but in this village + the empty tomb of the Iceland fishers seemed more sad because so lone and + humble. On each side of the doorway was a granite seat for the widows and + mothers; and this shady spot, irregularly shaped like a grotto, was + guarded by an old image of the Virgin, coloured red, with large staring + eyes, looking most like Cybele—the first goddess of the earth. + </p> + <p> + “Gaos!” Again! + </p> + <p> + “To the Memory of GAOS, FRANCOIS, Husband of Anne-Marie le Goaster, + Captain on board the <i>Paimpolais</i>, Lost off Iceland, between the 1st + and 3d of May, 1877, With the twenty-three men of his crew. May they rest + in peace!” + </p> + <p> + And, lower down, were two cross-bones under a black skull with green eyes, + a simple but ghastly emblem, reminding one of all the barbarism of a + bygone age. + </p> + <p> + “Gaos, Gaos!” The name was everywhere. As she read, thrills of sweet + tenderness came over her for this Yann of her choice, damped by a feeling + of hopelessness. Nay, he would never be hers! How could she tear him from + the sea where so many other Gaoses had gone down, ancestors and brothers, + who must have loved the sea like he! She entered the chapel. It was almost + dark, badly lit by low windows with heavy frames. And there, her heart + full of tears that would better have fallen, she knelt to pray before the + colossal saints, surrounded by common flowers, touching the vaulted roof + with their massive heads. Outside, the rising wind began to sob as if it + brought the death-gasps of the drowned men back to their Fatherland. + </p> + <p> + Night drew near; she rose and went on her way. After having asked in the + village, she found the home of the Gaos family, which was built up against + a high cliff. A dozen granite steps led up to it. Trembling a little at + the thought that Yann might have returned, she crossed the small garden + where chrysanthemums and veronicas grew. + </p> + <p> + When she was indoors, she explained she had come to bring the money for + the boat, and they very politely asked her to sit down, to await the + father's return, as he was the one to sign the receipt for her. Amidst + all, her eyes searched for Yann—but did not see him. + </p> + <p> + They were very busy in the home. Already they were cutting out the new + waterproof cloth on the clean white table, and getting it ready for the + approaching Iceland season. + </p> + <p> + “You see, Mademoiselle Gaud, it's like this: every man wants two new + suits.” + </p> + <p> + They explained to her how they set to work to make them, and to render + their seams waterproof with tar, for they were for wet weather wear. And + while they worked, Gaud looked attentively around the home of these + Gaoses. + </p> + <p> + It was furnished after the traditional manner of all Breton cottages; an + immense chimney-place took up one whole end, and on the sides of the walls + the Breton beds, bunks, as on shipboard, were placed one above another. + But it was not so sombre and sad as the cabins of other peasants, which + are generally half-hidden by the wayside; it was all fresh and clean, as + the homes of seamen usually are. Several little Gaoses were there, girls + and boys, all sisters and brothers of Yann; without counting two big ones, + who were already out at sea. And, besides, there was a little fair girl, + neat, but sad, unlike the others. + </p> + <p> + “We adopted her last year,” explained the mother; “we had enough children + as it was, of course, but what else could we do, Mademoiselle Gaud, for + her daddy belonged to the <i>Maria-Dieu-t'aime</i>, lost last season off + Iceland, as you know; so the neighbours divided the little ones between + them, and this one fell to our lot.” + </p> + <p> + Hearing herself spoken of, the adopted child hung her pretty head and + smiled, hiding herself behind little Laumec Gaos, her favourite. + </p> + <p> + There was a look of comfort all over the place, and radiant health bloomed + on all the children's rosy cheeks. + </p> + <p> + They received Gaud very profusely, like a great lady whose visit was an + honour to the family. She was taken upstairs, up a newly-built wooden + staircase, to see the room above, which was the glory of the home. She + remembered the history of its construction; it was after the finding of a + derelict vessel in the channel, which luck had befallen Yann's father and + his cousin the pilot. + </p> + <p> + The room was very gay and pretty in its whiteness; there were two town + beds in it, with pink chintz curtains, and a large table in the middle. + Through the window the whole of Paimpol could be seen, with the Icelanders + at anchor off shore, and the channel through which they passed. + </p> + <p> + She did not dare question, but she would have liked to have known where + Yann slept; probably as a child he had slept downstairs in one of the + antique cupboard-beds. But perhaps now he slept under those pink + draperies. She would have loved to have known all the details of his life, + especially what he did in the long winter evenings. + </p> + <p> + A heavy footstep on the stairs made her tremble. But it was not Yann, + though a man much like him; notwithstanding his white hair, as tall and as + straight. It was old father Gaos returning from fishing. + </p> + <p> + After he had saluted her and asked her the object of her visit, he signed + her receipt for her which was rather a long operation, as his hand was not + very steady, he explained. + </p> + <p> + But he would not accept the hundred francs as a final payment, but only as + an instalment; he would speak to M. Mevel again about it. Whereupon Gaud, + to whom money was nothing, smiled imperceptibly; she had fancied the + business was not quite terminated, and this just suited her. + </p> + <p> + They made something like excuses for Yann's absence; as if they found it + more orthodox for the whole family to assemble to receive her. Perhaps the + father had guessed, with the shrewdness of an old salt, that his son was + not indifferent to this beautiful heiress; for he rather insisted upon + talking about him. + </p> + <p> + “It's very queer,” said he, “the boy's never so late out. He went over to + Loguivy, Mademoiselle Gaud, to buy some lobster baskets; as you know, + lobster-catching is our main winter fishery.” + </p> + <p> + She dreamily lengthened out her call, although conscious that it was too + long already, and feeling a tug at her heart at the idea that she would + not see him after all. + </p> + <p> + “A well-conducted young man like Yann—what can he be doing? Surely + he's not at the inn. We don't fear that for our lad. I don't say that now + and then, of a Sunday, with his mates——You know, Mademoiselle + Gaud, what them sailors are. Eh! ye know, he's but a young chap, and must + have some liberty now and again. But it's very rare with him to break out, + for he's a straight-goer; we can say that.” + </p> + <p> + But night was falling, and the work had been folded up. The little ones on + the benches around drew closer to one another, saddened by the grey dismal + gloaming, and eyed Gaud hard, seeming to say— + </p> + <p> + “Why doesn't she go now?” + </p> + <p> + On the hearth, the flames burned redder in the midst of the falling + shadows. + </p> + <p> + “You ought to stay and have a bit o' supper with us, Mademoiselle Gaud.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no! I couldn't think of it!” The blood rushed to her face at the idea + of having remained so late. She got up and took her leave. + </p> + <p> + Yann's father also rose to accompany her part of the way, anyhow as far as + a lonely nook where the old trees make a dark lane. + </p> + <p> + As they walked along together, she felt a sudden sympathy of respect and + tenderness towards him; she would have liked to have spoken as to a father + in the sudden gushes of feeling that came over her; but the words were + stifled in her throat, and she said not a word. + </p> + <p> + And so they went their way, in the cold evening wind, full of the odour of + the sea, passing here and there, on the barren heath, some poor hovels, + where beach-combers dwelt and had already sealed themselves up for the + night; dark and neglected they looked under the weather-beaten roofs; + these crosses, clumps of reeds, and boulders they left behind. + </p> + <p> + What a great way off Pors-Even was, and what a time she had remained! + </p> + <p> + Now and then they met folks returning from Paimpol or Loguivy; and as she + watched the shadows approach, each time she thought it was Yann; but it + was easy to recognise him at a good distance off, and so she was quickly + undeceived. Every moment her feet caught in the brown trailing plants, + tangled like hair, which were sea-weeds littering the pathway. + </p> + <p> + At the Cross of Plouezoc'h she bade good-bye to the old man, and begged + him to return. The lights of Paimpol were already in view, and there was + no more occasion to be afraid. + </p> + <p> + So hope was over for this time. Who could tell her when she might see Yann + again? + </p> + <p> + An excuse to return to Pors-Even would have been easy; but it would really + look too bad to begin her quest all over again. She would have to be + braver and prouder than that. If only her little confidant Sylvestre had + been there, she might have asked him to go and fetch Yann, so that there + could be some explanation. But he was gone now, and for how many years? + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IV—HIS RELUCTANCE + </h2> + <p> + “Me get married?” said Yann to his parents that same evening. “Me get + married? Good heavens, why should I? Shall I ever be as happy as here with + ye? no troubles, no tiffs with any one, and warm soup ready for me every + night when I come home from sea. Oh! I quite understand that you mean the + girl that came here to-day, but what's such a rich girl to do with us? + 'Tisn't clear to my thinking. And it'll be neither her, nor any other. + It's all settled, I won't marry—it ain't to my liking.” + </p> + <p> + The two old Gaoses looked at one another in silence, deeply disappointed, + for, after having talked it over together, they were pretty well sure that + this young lady would not refuse their handsome Yann. But they did not try + to argue, knowing how useless that would be. The mother lowered her head, + and said no more; she respected the will of her son, her eldest born, who + was all but the head of the family; although he was always tender and + gentle with her, more obedient than a child in the petty things of life, + he long ago had been her absolute master for the great ones, eluding all + restraint with a quiet though savage independence. He never sat up late, + being in the habit, like other fishermen, of rising before break of day. + And after supper at eight o'clock, he had given another satisfactory look + to his baskets and new nets from Loguivy, and began to undress—calm + to all appearances, and went up to sleep in the pink-curtained bed, which + he shared with his little brother Laumec. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER V—SAILORS AT THE PLAY + </h2> + <p> + For the last fortnight Gaud's little confidant, Sylvestre, had been + quartered in Brest; very much out of his element, but very quiet and + obedient to discipline. He wore his open blue sailor-collar and + red-balled, flat, woollen cap, with a frank, fearless look, and was noble + and dignified in his sailor garb, with his free step and tall figure, but + at the bottom of his heart he was still the same innocent boy as ever, and + thinking of his dear old grandam. + </p> + <p> + One evening he had got tipsy together with some lads from his parts, + simply because it is the custom; and they had all returned to the barracks + together arm-in-arm, singing out as lustily as they could. + </p> + <p> + And one Sunday, too, they had all gone to the theatre, in the upper + galleries. A melodrama was being played, and the sailors, exasperated + against the villain, greeted him with a howl, which they all roared + together, like a blast of the Atlantic cyclones. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VI—ORDERED ON FOREIGN SERVICE + </h2> + <p> + One day Sylvestre was summoned before the officer of his company; and they + told him he was among those ordered out to China—in the squadron for + Formosa. He had been pretty well expecting it for some time, as he had + heard those who read the papers say that out there the war seemed + never-ending. + </p> + <p> + And because of the urgency of the departure, he was informed at the same + time that he would not be able to have the customary leave for his home + farewells; in five days' time he would have to pack up and be off. + </p> + <p> + Then a bitter pain came over him; though charmed at the idea of far-off + travels amid the unknown and of the war. There also was agony at the + thought of leaving all he knew and loved, with the vague apprehension that + he might never more return. + </p> + <p> + A thousand noises rang in his head. Around was the bustle of the + barrack-rooms, where hundreds of others were called up, like himself, + chosen for the Chinese squadron. And rapidly he wrote to his old + grandmother, with a stump of pencil, crouching on the floor, alone in his + own feverish dream, though in the thick of the continual hurry and hubbub + amidst all the young sailors hurried away like himself. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0013" id="link2HCH0013"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VII—MOAN'S SWEETHEART + </h2> + <p> + “His sweetheart's a trifle old!” said the others, a couple of days later, + as they laughed after Sylvestre and his grandmother, “but they seem to get + on fine together all the same.” + </p> + <p> + It amused them to see the boy, for the first time, walk through the + streets of Recouvrance, with a woman at his side, like the rest of them; + and, bending towards her with a tender look, whisper what seemed to be + very soft nothings. + </p> + <p> + She was a very quick, diminutive person seen from behind, with rather + short skirts for the fashion of the day; and a scanty brown shawl, and a + high Paimpol <i>coiffe</i>. She, too, hanging on his arm, turned towards + him with an affectionate glance. + </p> + <p> + “A trifle old was his sweetheart!” + </p> + <p> + That's what the others called after him, we say, but without spite, for + any one could see that she was his old granny, come up from the country. + She had come, too, in a hurry, suddenly terrified at the news of his + sudden departure; for this Chinese war had already cost Paimpol many + sailors. So she had scraped together all her poor little savings, put her + best Sunday dress and a fresh clean <i>coiffe</i> in a box, and had set + out to kiss him once again. + </p> + <p> + She had gone straight to the barracks to ask for him; at first his + adjutant had refused to let him go out. + </p> + <p> + “If you've anything to say, my good woman, go and speak to the captain + yourself. There he is, passing.” + </p> + <p> + So she calmly walked up to him, and he allowed himself to be won over. + </p> + <p> + “Send Moan to change his clothes, to go out,” said he. + </p> + <p> + All in hot haste Moan had gone to rig up in his best attire, while the + good old lady, to make him laugh, of course, made a most inimitably droll + face and a mock curtsey at the adjutant behind his back. + </p> + <p> + But when the grandson appeared in his full uniform, with the inevitable + turned-down collar, leaving his throat bare, she was quite struck with his + beauty; his black beard was cut into a seamanly fashionable point by the + barber, and his cap was decked out with long floating ribbons, with a + golden anchor at each end. For the moment she almost saw in him her son + Pierre, who, twenty years before, had also been a sailor in the navy, and + the remembrance of the far past, with all its dead, stealthily shadowed + the present hour. + </p> + <p> + But the sadness soon passed away. Arm-in-arm they strolled on, happy to be + together; and it was then that the others had pretended to see in her his + sweetheart, and voted her “a trifle old.” + </p> + <p> + She had taken him, for a treat, to dine in an inn kept by some people from + Paimpol, which had been recommended to her as rather cheap. And then, + still arm-in-arm, they had sauntered through Brest, looking at the + shop-windows. There never were such funny stories told as those she told + her grandson to make him laugh; of course all in Paimpol Breton, so that + the passers-by might not understand. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0014" id="link2HCH0014"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VIII—OLD AND YOUNG + </h2> + <p> + She stayed three days with him, three happy days, though over them hung a + dark and ominous forecast; one might as well call them three days of + respite. + </p> + <p> + At last she was forced to return to Ploubazlanec, for she had come to the + end of her little savings, and Sylvestre was to embark the day afterward. + The sailors are always inexorably kept in barracks the day before foreign + cruises (a custom that seems rather barbarous at first, but which is a + necessary precaution against the “flings” they would have before leaving + definitely). + </p> + <p> + Oh that last day! She had done her very best to hatch up some more funny + stories in her head, to tell her boy just at the parting; but she had + remembered nothing—no; only tears had welled up, and at every moment + sobs choked her. Hanging on his arm, she reminded him of a thousand things + he was not to forget to do, and he also tried hard to repress his tears. + They had ended by going into a church to say their prayers together. + </p> + <p> + It was by the night train that she went. To save a few pence, they had + gone on foot to the station; he carrying her box, and holding her on his + strong arm, upon which she weighed heavily. + </p> + <p> + She was so very, very tired—poor old lady! She had scarcely any + strength left after the exertion of the last three or four days. Her + shoulders were bent under her brown shawl, and she had no force to bear + herself up; her youngish look was gone, and she felt the weight of her + seventy-six years. + </p> + <p> + Oh! how her heart ached at the thought that it was all over, and that in a + few moments she must leave him! Was he really to go out so far, to China, + perhaps to slaughter. She still had him there with her, quite close, her + poor hands could yet grasp him—and yet he must go; all the strength + of her will, all her tears, and all her great heartrending despair—all! + would nothing be of avail to keep him back? + </p> + <p> + With her ticket, and her lunch-basket, and her mittens in her grasp, + agitated, she gave him her last blessing and advice, and he answered her + with an obedient “Ay, ay,” bending his head tenderly towards her and + gazing lovingly at her, in his soft childish way. + </p> + <p> + “Now then, old lady, you must make up your mind plaguey quick if you want + to go by this train!” + </p> + <p> + The engine whistled. Suddenly terrified at the idea of losing the train, + she bore her box from Sylvestre's grasp, and flinging it down, threw her + arms round his neck in a last and supreme embrace. + </p> + <p> + Many people on the platform stared at them, but not one smiled. Hustled + about by the porters, worn out and full of pain, she pressed into the + first carriage near; the door was banged quickly upon her, while + Sylvestre, with all the speed of a young sailor, rushed out of the station + to the rails beside the line to see the train pass. + </p> + <p> + A shrill screeching whistle, a noisy grinding of the wheels, and his + grandmother passed away, leaving him leaning against the gate and swinging + up his cap with its flying ribbons, while she, hanging out of the window + of her third-class carriage, made an answering signal with her + handkerchief; and for as long as she could see the dark blue-clad figure, + that was her child, followed him with her eyes, throwing her whole soul + into that “good-bye!” kept back to the last, and always uncertain of + realization when sailors are concerned. + </p> + <p> + Look long at your little Sylvestre, poor old woman; until the very latest + moment, do not lose sight of his fleeting shadow, which is fading away for + ever. + </p> + <p> + When she could see him no longer, she fell back, completely crushing her + still clean unrumpled cap, weeping and sobbing in the agony of death + itself. + </p> + <p> + He had turned away slowly, with his head bent, and big tears falling down + his cheeks. The autumn night had closed in; everywhere the gas was + flaring, and the sailors' riotous feasts had begun anew. Paying no heed to + anything about him, he passed through Brest and over the Recouvrance + Bridge, to the barracks. + </p> + <p> + “Whist! here, you darling boy!” called out some nocturnal prowlers to him; + but he passed on, and entering the barracks, flung himself down in his + hammock, weeping, all alone, and hardly sleeping until dawn. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0015" id="link2HCH0015"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IX—THE EASTERN VOYAGE + </h2> + <p> + Sylvestre was soon out on the ocean, rapidly whisked away over the unknown + seas, far more blue than Iceland's. The ship that carried him off to the + confines of Asia was ordered to go at full speed and stop nowhere. Ere + long he felt that he was far away, for the speed was unceasing, and even + without a care for the sea or the wind. As he was a topman, he lived + perched aloft, like a bird, avoiding the soldiers crowded upon the deck. + </p> + <p> + Twice they stopped, however, on the coast of Tunis, to take up more + Zouaves and mules; from afar he had perceived the white cities amid sands + and arid hills. He had even come down from his top to look at the + dark-brown men draped in their white robes who came off in small boats to + peddle fruit; his mates told him that these were Bedouins. + </p> + <p> + The heat and the sun, which were unlessened by the autumn season, made him + feel out of his element. + </p> + <p> + One day they touched at Port Said. All the flags of Europe waved overhead + from long staves, which gave it an aspect of Babel on a feast-day, and the + glistening sands surrounded the town like a moving sea. + </p> + <p> + They had stopped there, touching the quays, almost in the midst of the + long streets full of wooden shanties. Since his departure, Sylvestre never + had seen the outside world so closely, and the movement and numbers of + boats excited and amused him. + </p> + <p> + With never-ending screeching from their escape-pipes, all these boats + crowded up in the long canal, as narrow as a ditch, which wound itself in + a silvery line through the infinite sands. From his post on high he could + see them as in a procession under a window, till disappearing in the + plain. + </p> + <p> + On the canal all kinds of costumes could be seen; men in many-coloured + attire, busy and shouting like thunder. And at night the clamour of + confused bands of music mingled with the diabolical screams of the + locomotives, playing noisy tunes, as if to drown the heart-breaking sorrow + of the exiles who for ever passed onward. + </p> + <p> + The next day, at sunrise, they, too, glided into the narrow ribbon of + water between the sands. For two days the steaming in the long file + through the desert lasted, then another sea opened before them, and they + were once again upon the open. They still ran at full speed through this + warmer expanse, stained like red marble, with their boiling wake like + blood. Sylvestre remained all the time up in his top, where he would hum + his old song of “Jean-Francois de Nantes,” to remind him of his dear + brother Yann, of Iceland, and the good old bygone days. + </p> + <p> + Sometimes, in the depths of the shadowy distance, some wonderfully tinted + mountain would arise. Notwithstanding the distance and the dimness around, + the names of those projected capes of countries appeared as the eternal + landmarks on the great roadways of the earth to the steersmen of this + vessel; but a topman is carried on like an inanimate thing, knowing + nothing, and unconscious of the distance over the everlasting, endless + waves. + </p> + <p> + All he felt was a terrible estrangement from the things of this world, + which grew greater and greater; and the feeling was very defined and exact + as he looked upon the seething foam behind, and tried to remember how long + had lasted this pace that never slackened night or day. Down on deck, the + crowd of men, huddled together in the shadow of the awnings, panted with + weariness. The water and the air, even the very light above, had a dull, + crushing splendour; and the fadeless glory of those elements were as a + very mockery of the human beings whose physical lives are so ephemeral. + </p> + <p> + Once, up in his crow's nest, he was gladdened by the sight of flocks of + tiny birds, of an unknown species, which fell upon the ship like a + whirlwind of coal dust. They allowed themselves to be taken and stroked, + being worn out with fatigue. All the sailors had them as pets upon their + shoulders. But soon the most exhausted among them began to die, and before + long they died by thousands on the rigging, yards, ports, and sails—poor + little things!—under the blasting sun of the Red Sea. They had come + to destruction, off the Great Desert, fleeing before a sandstorm. And + through fear of falling into the blue waters that stretched on all sides, + they had ended their last feeble flight upon the passing ship. Over + yonder, in some distant region of Libya, they had been fledged in masses. + Indeed, there were so many of them, that their blind and unkind mother, + Nature, had driven away before her this surplus, as unmoved as if they had + been superabundant men. On the scorching funnels and ironwork of the ship + they died away; the deck was strewn with their puny forms, only yesterday + so full of life, songs, and love. Now, poor little black dots, Sylvestre + and the others picked them up, spreading out their delicate blue wings, + with a look of pity, and swept them overboard into the abysmal sea. + </p> + <p> + Next came hosts of locusts, the spawn of those conjured up by Moses, and + the ship was covered with them. At length, though, it surged on a lifeless + blue sea, where they saw no things around them, except from time to time + the flying fish skimming along the level water. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0016" id="link2HCH0016"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER X—THE ORIENT + </h2> + <p> + Rain in torrents, under a heavy black sky. This was India. Sylvestre had + just set foot upon land, chance selecting him to complete the crew of a + whale boat. He felt the warm shower upon him through the thick foliage, + and looked around, surprised at the novel sight. All was magnificently + green; the leaves of the trees waved like gigantic feathers, and the + people walking beneath them had large velvety eyes, which seemed to close + under the weight of their lashes. The very wind that brought the rain had + the odour of musk and flowers. + </p> + <p> + At a distance, dusky girls beckoned him to come to them. Some happy strain + they sang, like the “Whist! here, you darling boy!” so often heard at + Brest. But seductive as was their country, their call was imperious and + exasperating, making his very flesh shudder. Their perfect bosoms rose and + fell under transparent muslin, in which they were solely draped; they were + glowing and polished as in bronze statues. Hesitating, fascinated by them, + he wavered about, following them; but the boatswain's sharp shrill whistle + rent the air with bird-like trills, summoning him hurriedly back to his + boat, about to push off. + </p> + <p> + He took his flight, and bade farewell to India's beauties. + </p> + <p> + After a second week of the blue sea, they paused off another land of dewy + verdure. A crowd of yellow men appeared, yelling out and pressing on deck, + bringing coal in baskets. + </p> + <p> + “Already in China?” asked Sylvestre, at the sight of those grotesque + figures in pigtails. + </p> + <p> + “Bless you, no, not yet,” they told him; “have a little more patience.” + </p> + <p> + It was only Singapore. He went up into his mast-top again, to avoid the + black dust tossed about by the breeze, while the coal was feverishly + heaped up in the bunkers from little baskets. + </p> + <p> + One day, at length, they arrived off a land called Tourane, where the <i>Circe</i> + was anchored, to blockade the port. This was the ship to which Sylvestre + had been long ago assigned, and he was left there with his bag. + </p> + <p> + On board he met with two mates from home, Icelanders, who were captains of + guns for the time being. Through the long, hot, still evenings, when there + was no work to be done, they clustered on deck apart from the others, to + form together a little Brittany of remembrances. + </p> + <p> + Five months he passed there in inaction and exile, locked up in the + cheerless bay, with the feverish desire to go out and fight and slay, for + change's sake. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0017" id="link2HCH0017"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XI—A CURIOUS RENCONTRE + </h2> + <p> + In Paimpol again, on the last day of February, before the setting-out for + Iceland. Gaud was standing up against her room door, pale and still. For + Yann was below, chatting to her father. She had seen him come in, and + indistinctly heard his voice. + </p> + <p> + All through the winter they never had met, as if some invincible fate + always had kept them apart. + </p> + <p> + After the failure to find him in her walk to Pors-Even, she had placed + some hope on the <i>Pardon des Islandais</i> where there would be many + chances for them to see and talk to one another, in the market-place at + dusk, among the crowd. + </p> + <p> + But on the very morning of the holiday, though the streets were already + draped in white and strewn with green garlands, a hard rain had fallen in + torrents, brought from the west by a soughing wind; never had so black a + sky shadowed Paimpol. “What a pity! the boys won't come over from + Ploubazlanec now,” had moaned the lasses, whose sweethearts dwelt there. + And they did not come, or else had gone straight into the taverns to drink + together. + </p> + <p> + There had been no processions or strolls, and she, with her heart aching + more than ever, had remained at her window the whole evening listening to + the water streaming over the roofs, and the fishers' noisy songs rising + and falling out of the depths of the taverns. + </p> + <p> + For the last few days she had been expecting this visit, surmising truly + that old Gaos would send his son to terminate the business concerning the + sale of the boat, as he did not care to come into Paimpol himself. She + determined then that she would go straight to him, and, unlike other + girls, speak out frankly, to have her conscience clear on the subject. She + would reproach him with having sought her out and having abandoned her + like a man without honour. If it were only stubbornness, timidity, his + great love for his sailor-life, or simply the fear of a refusal, as + Sylvestre had hinted, why, all these objections would disappear, after a + frank, fair understanding between them. His fond smile might return, which + had charmed and won her the winter before, and all would be settled. This + hope gave her strength and courage, and sweetened her impatience. From + afar, things always appear so easy and simple to say and to do. + </p> + <p> + This visit of Yann's fell by chance at a convenient hour. She was sure + that her father, who was sitting and smoking, would not get up to walk + part of the way with him; so in the empty passage she might have her + explanation out with him. + </p> + <p> + But now that the time had come, such boldness seemed extreme. The bare + idea of looking him face to face at the foot of those stairs, made her + tremble; and her heart beat as if it would break. At any moment the door + below might open, with the squeak she knew so well, to let him out! + </p> + <p> + “No, no, she never would dare; rather would she die of longing and sorrow, + than attempt such an act.” She already made a few return steps towards the + back of her room, to regain her seat and work. But she stopped again, + hesitating and afraid, remembering that to-morrow was the sailing day for + Iceland, and that this occasion stood alone. If she let it slip by, she + would have to wait through months upon months of solitude and despair, + languishing for his return—losing another whole summer of her life. + </p> + <p> + Below, the door opened—Yann was coming out! + </p> + <p> + Suddenly resolute, she rushed downstairs, and tremblingly stood before + him. + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur Yann, I—I wish to speak to you, please.” + </p> + <p> + “To me, Mademoiselle Gaud?” queried he, lowering his voice and snatching + off his hat. + </p> + <p> + He looked at her fiercely, with a hard expression in his flashing eyes, + and his head thrown back, seeming even to wonder if he ought to stop for + her at all. With one foot ready to start away, he stood straight up + against the wall, as if to be as far apart from her as possible, in the + narrow passage, where he felt imprisoned. + </p> + <p> + Paralyzed, she could remember nothing of what she had wished to say; she + had not thought he would try and pass on without listening to her. What an + affront! + </p> + <p> + “Does our house frighten you, Monsieur Yann?” she asked, in a dry, odd + tone—not at all the one she wished to use. + </p> + <p> + He turned his eyes away, looking outside; his cheeks blazed red, a rush of + blood burned all his face, and his quivering nostrils dilated with every + breath, keeping time with the heavings of his chest, like a young bull's. + </p> + <p> + “The night of the ball,” she tried to continue, “when we were together, + you bade me good-bye, not as a man speaks to an indifferent person. + Monsieur Yann, have you no memory? What have I done to vex you?” + </p> + <p> + The nasty western breeze blowing in from the street ruffled his hair and + the frills of Gaud's <i>coiffe</i>, and behind them a door was banged + furiously. The passage was not meet for talking of serious matters in. + After these first phrases, choking, Gaud remained speechless, feeling her + head spin, and without ideas. They still advanced towards the street door; + he seemed so anxious to get away, and she was so determined not to be + shaken off. + </p> + <p> + Outside the wind blew noisily and the sky was black. A sad livid light + fell upon their faces through the open door. And an opposite neighbour + looked at them: what could the pair be saying to one another in that + passage together, looking so troubled? What was wrong over at the Mevel's? + </p> + <p> + “Nay, Mademoiselle Gaud,” he answered at last, turning away with the + powerful grace of a young lion, “I've heard folks talk about us quite + enough already! Nay, Mademoiselle Gaud, for, you see, you are rich, and we + are not people of the same class. I am not the fellow to come after a + 'swell' lady.” + </p> + <p> + He went forth on his way. So now all was over for ever and ever. She had + not even said what she wished in that interview, which had only made her + seem a very bold girl in his sight. What kind of a fellow was this Yann, + with his contempt for women, his scorn for money, and all desirable + things? + </p> + <p> + At first she remained fixed to the spot, sick with giddiness, as things + swam around her. One intolerably painful thought suddenly struck her like + a flash of lightning—Yann's comrades, the Icelanders, were waiting + for him below in the market-place. What if he were to tell them this as a + good joke—what a still more odious affront upon her! She quickly + returned to her room to watch them through her window-curtains. + </p> + <p> + Before the house, indeed, she saw the men assembled, but they were simply + contemplating the weather, which was becoming worse and worse, and + discussed the threatening rain. + </p> + <p> + “It'll only be a shower. Let's go in and drink away the time, till it + passes.” + </p> + <p> + They poked jokes and laughed loudly over Jeannie Caroff and other + beauties; but not even one of them looked up at <i>her</i> window. They + were all joyful, except Yann, who said nothing, and remained grave and + sad. He did not go in to drink with them; and without noticing either them + or the rain, which had begun to fall, he slowly walked away under the + shower, as if absorbed in his thoughts, crossing the market-place towards + Ploubazlanec. + </p> + <p> + Then she forgave him all, and a feeling of hopeless tenderness for him + came, instead of the bitter disappointment that previously had filled her + heart. She sat down and held her head between her hands. What could she do + now? + </p> + <p> + Oh! if he had listened only a moment to her, or if he could come into that + room, where they might speak together alone, perhaps all might yet be + arranged. She loved him enough to tell him so to his face. She would say + to him: “You sought me out when I asked you for nothing; now I am yours + with my whole soul, if you will have me. I don't mind a bit being the wife + of a fisherman, and yet, if I liked, I need but choose among all the young + men of Paimpol; but I do love you, because, notwithstanding all, I believe + you to be better than others. I'm tolerably well-to-do, and I know I am + pretty; although I have lived in towns, I am sure that I am not a spoiled + girl, as I never have done anything wrong; then, if I love you so, why + shouldn't you take me?” + </p> + <p> + But all this never would be said except in dreams; it was too late! Yann + would not hear her. Try and talk to him a second time? Oh, no! what kind + of a creature would he take her then to be? She would rather die. + </p> + <p> + Yet to-morrow they would all start for Iceland. The whitish February + daylight streamed into her fine room. Chill and lonely she fell upon one + of the chairs along the wall. It seemed to her as if the whole world were + crashing and falling in around her. All things past and present were as if + buried in a fearful abyss, which yawned on all sides of her. She wished + her life would end, and that she were lying calm beneath some cold + tombstone, where no more pain might touch her. + </p> + <p> + But she had sincerely forgiven him, and no hatred mingled with her + desperate love. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0018" id="link2HCH0018"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XII—STRIKING THE ROCK UNKNOWN + </h2> + <p> + The sea, the gray sea once more, where Yann was gently gliding along its + broad, trackless road, that leads the fishermen every year to the Land of + Ice. + </p> + <p> + The day before, when they all had set off to the music of the old hymns, + there blew a brisk breeze from the south, and all the ships with their + outspread sails had dispersed like so many gulls; but that breeze had + suddenly subsided, and speed had diminished; great fog-banks covered the + watery surface. + </p> + <p> + Yann was perhaps quieter than usual. He said that the weather was too + calm, and appeared to excite himself, as if he would drive away some care + that weighed upon him. But he had nothing to do but be carried serenely in + the midst of serene things; only to breathe and let himself live. On + looking out, only the deep gray masses around could be seen; on listening, + only silence. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly there was an almost imperceptible rumbling, which came from + below, accompanied by a grinding sensation, as when a brake comes hard + down on carriage wheels. The <i>Marie</i> ceased all movement. They had + struck. Where, and on what? Some bank off the English coast probably. For + since overnight they had been able to see nothing, with those curtains of + mist. + </p> + <p> + The men ran and rushed about, their bustle contrasting strongly with the + sudden rigidity of their ship. How had the <i>Marie</i> come to a stop in + that spot? In the midst of that immensity of fluid in this dull weather, + seeming to be almost without consistence, she had been seized by some + resistless immovable power hidden beneath the waves; she was tight in its + grasp, and might perish there. + </p> + <p> + Who has not seen poor birds caught by their feet in the lime? At first + they can scarcely believe they are caught; it changes nothing in their + aspect; but they soon are sure that they are held fast, and in danger of + never getting free again. And when they struggle to get free, and the + sticky stuff soils their wings and heads, they gradually assume that + pitiful look of a dumb creature in distress, about to die. Such was the + case with the <i>Marie</i>. At first it did not seem much to be concerned + about; she certainly was careened a little on one side, but it was broad + morning, and the weather was fair and calm; one had to know such things by + experience to become uneasy, and understand that it was a serious matter. + </p> + <p> + The captain was to be pitied. It was his fault, as he had not understood + exactly where they were. He wrung his hands, saying: “God help us! God + help us!” in a voice of despair. + </p> + <p> + Close to them, during a lifting of the fog, they could distinguish a + headland, but not recognize it. But the mists covered it anew, and they + saw it no longer. + </p> + <p> + There was no sail or smoke in sight. They all jostled about, hurrying and + knocking the deck lumber over. Their dog Turc, who did not usually mind + the movement of the sea, was greatly affected too by this incident, these + sounds from down below, these heavy wallowings when the low swell passed + under, and the sudden calm that afterwards followed; he understood that + all this was unusual, and hid himself away in corners, with his tail + between his legs. They got out the boats to carry the kedges and set them + firm, and tried to row her out of it by uniting all their forces together + upon the tow-lines—a heavy piece of work this, which lasted ten + successive hours. So, when evening came, the poor bark, which had only + that morning been so fresh and light, looked almost swamped, fouled, and + good for nothing. She had fought hard, floundered about on all sides, but + still remained there, fixed as in a dock. + </p> + <p> + Night was overtaking them; the wind and the waves were rising; things were + growing worse, when, all of a sudden, towards six o'clock, they were let + go clear, and could be off again, tearing asunder the tow-lines, which + they had left to keep her head steady. The men wept, rushing about like + madmen, cheering from stem to stern—“We're afloat, boys!” + </p> + <p> + They were afloat, with a joy that cannot be described; what it was to feel + themselves going forwards on a buoyant craft again, instead of on the + semi-wreck it was before, none but a seaman feels, and few of them can + tell. + </p> + <p> + Yann's sadness had disappeared too. Like his ship, he became lively once + more, cured by the healthy manual labour; he had found his reckless look + again, and had thrown off his glum thoughts. + </p> + <p> + Next morning, when the kedges were fished up, the <i>Marie</i> went on her + way to Iceland, and Yann's heart, to all appearance, was as free as in his + early years. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0019" id="link2HCH0019"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIII—HOME NEWS + </h2> + <p> + The home letters were being distributed on board the <i>Circe</i>, at + anchor at Ha-Long, over on the other side of the earth. In the midst of a + group of sailors, the purser called out, in a loud voice, the names of the + fortunate men who had letters to receive. This went on at evening, on the + ship's side, all crushing round a funnel. + </p> + <p> + “Moan, Sylvestre!” There was one for him, postmarked “Paimpol,” but it was + not Gaud's writing. What did that mean? from whom did it come else? + </p> + <p> + After having turned and flourished it about, he opened it fearingly, and + read: + </p> + <p> + “PLOUBAZLANEC, March 5th, 1884. + </p> + <p> + “MY DEAR GRANDSON:” + </p> + <p> + So, it was from his dear old granny. He breathed free again. At the bottom + of the letter she even had placed her signature, learned by heart, but + trembling like a school-girl's scribble: “Widow Moan.” + </p> + <p> + “Widow Moan!” With a quick spontaneous movement he carried the paper to + his lips and kissed the poor name, as a sacred relic. For this letter + arrived at a critical moment of his life; to-morrow at dawn, he was to set + out for the battlefield. + </p> + <p> + It was in the middle of April; Bac-Ninh and Hong-Hoa had just been taken. + There was no great warfare going on in Tonquin, yet the reinforcements + arriving were not sufficient; sailors were taken from all the ships to + make up the deficit in the corps already disembarked. Sylvestre, who had + languished so long in the midst of cruises and blockades, had just been + selected with some others to fill up the vacancies. + </p> + <p> + It is true that now peace was spoken of, but something told them that they + yet would disembarck in good time to fight a bit. They packed their bags, + made all their other preparations, and said good-bye, and all the evening + through they strolled about with their unfortunate mates who had to + remain, feeling much grander and prouder than they. Each in his own way + showed his impression at this departure—some were grave and serious, + others exuberant and talkative. + </p> + <p> + Sylvestre was very quiet and thoughtful, though impatient; only, when they + looked at him, his smile seemed to say, “Yes, I'm one of the fighting + party, and huzza! the action is for to-morrow morning!” + </p> + <p> + Of gunshots and battle he formed but an incomplete idea as yet; but they + fascinated him, for he came of a valiant race. + </p> + <p> + The strange writing of his letter made him anxious about Gaud, and he drew + near a porthole to read the epistle through. It was difficult amid all + those half-naked men pressing round, in the unbearable heat of the + gundeck. + </p> + <p> + As he thought she would do, in the beginning of her letter Granny Moan + explained why she had had to take recourse to the inexperienced hand of an + old neighbour: + </p> + <p> + “My dear child, I don't ask your cousin to write for me to-day, as she is + in great trouble. Her father died suddenly two days ago. It appears that + his whole fortune has been lost through unlucky gambling last winter in + Paris. So his house and furniture will have to be sold. Nobody in the + place was expecting this. I think, dear child, that this will pain you as + much as it does me. + </p> + <p> + “Gaos, the son, sends you his kind remembrance; he has renewed his + articles with Captain Guermeur of the <i>Marie</i>, and the departure for + Iceland was rather early this year, for they set sail on the first of the + month, two days before our poor Gaud's trouble, and he don't know of it + yet. + </p> + <p> + “But you can easily imagine that we shall not get them wed now, for she + will be obliged to work for her daily bread.” + </p> + <p> + Sylvestre dwelt stupor-stricken; this bad news quite spoiled his glee at + going out to fight. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_PART3" id="link2H_PART3"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + PART III — IN THE SHADOW + </h2> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0020" id="link2HCH0020"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER I—THE SKIRMISH + </h2> + <h3> + Hark! a bullet hurtles through the air! + </h3> + <p> + Sylvestre stops short to listen! + </p> + <p> + He is upon an infinite meadow, green with the soft velvet carpet of + spring. The sky is gray, lowering, as if to weigh upon one's very + shoulders. + </p> + <p> + They are six sailors reconnoitring among the fresh rice-fields, in a muddy + pathway. + </p> + <p> + Hist! again the whizz, breaking the silence of the air—a shrill, + continuous sound, a kind of prolonged <i>zing</i>, giving one a strong + impression that the pellets buzzing by might have stung fatally. + </p> + <p> + For the first time in his life Sylvestre hears that music. The bullets + coming towards a man have a different sound from those fired by himself: + the far-off report is attenuated, or not heard at all, so it is easier to + distinguish the sharp rush of metal as it swiftly passes by, almost + grazing one's ears. + </p> + <p> + Crack! whizz! ping! again and yet again! The balls fall in regular showers + now. Close by the sailors they stop short, and are buried in the flooded + soil of the rice-fields, accompanied by a faint splash, like hail falling + sharp and swift in a puddle of water. + </p> + <p> + The marines looked at one another as if it was all a piece of odd fun, and + said: + </p> + <p> + “Only John Chinaman! pish!” + </p> + <p> + To the sailors, Annamites, Tonquinese, or “Black Flags” are all of the + same Chinese family. It is difficult to show their contempt and mocking + rancour, as well as eagerness for “bowling over the beggars,” when they + speak of “the Chinese.” + </p> + <p> + Two or three bullets are still flying about, more closely grazing; they + can be seen bouncing like grasshoppers in the green. The slight shower of + lead did not last long. + </p> + <p> + Perfect silence returns to the broad verdant plain, and nowhere can + anything be seen moving. The same six are still there, standing on the + watch, scenting the breeze, and trying to discover whence the volley came. + Surely from over yonder, by that clump of bamboos, which looks like an + island of feathers in the plain; behind it several pointed roofs appear + half hidden. So they all made for it, their feet slipping or sinking into + the soaked soil. Sylvestre runs foremost, on his longer, more nimble legs. + </p> + <p> + No more buzz of bullets; they might have thought they were dreaming. + </p> + <p> + As in all the countries of the world, some features are the same; the + cloudy gray skies and the fresh tints of fields in spring-time, for + example; one could imagine this upon French meadows, and these young + fellows, running merrily over them, playing a very different sport from + this game of death. + </p> + <p> + But as they approach, the bamboos show the exotic delicacy of their + foliage, and the village roofs grow sharper in the singularity of their + curves, and yellow men hidden behind advance to reconnoitre; their flat + faces are contracted by fear and spitefulness. Then suddenly they rush out + screaming, and deploy into a long line, trembling, but decided and + dangerous. + </p> + <p> + “The Chinese!” shout the sailors again, with their same brave smile. + </p> + <p> + But this time they find that there are a good many—too many; and one + of them turning round perceives other Chinese coming from behind, + springing up from the long tall grass. + </p> + <p> + At this moment, young Sylvestre came out grand; his old granny would have + been proud to see him such a warrior. Since the last few days he had + altered. His face was bronzed, and his voice strengthened. He was in his + own element here. + </p> + <p> + In a moment of supreme indecision the sailors hit by the bullets almost + yielded to an impulse of retreat, which would certainly have been death to + them all; but Sylvestre continued to advance, clubbing his rifle, and + fighting a whole band, knocking them down right and left with smashing + blows from the butt-end. Thanks to him the situation was reversed; that + panic or madness that blindly deceives all in these leaderless skirmishes + had now passed over to the Chinese side, and it was they who began to + retreat. + </p> + <p> + It was soon all over; they were fairly taking to their heels. The six + sailors, reloading their repeating rifles, shot them down easily; upon the + grass lay dead bodies by red pools, and skulls were emptying their brains + into the river. + </p> + <p> + They fled, cowering like leopards. Sylvestre ran after them, although he + had two wounds—a lance-thrust in the thigh and a deep gash in his + arm; but feeling nothing save the intoxication of battle, that unreasoning + fever that comes of vigorous blood, gives lofty courage to simple souls, + and made the heroes of antiquity. + </p> + <p> + One whom he was pursuing turned round, and with a spasm of desperate + terror took a deliberate aim at him. Sylvestre stopped short, smiling + scornfully, sublime, to let him fire, and seeing the direction of the aim, + only shifted a little to the left. But with the pressure upon the trigger + the barrel of the Chinese jingal deviated slightly in the same direction. + He suddenly felt a smart rap upon his breast, and in a flash of thought + understood what it was, even before feeling any pain; he turned towards + the others following, and tried to cry out to them the traditional phrase + of the old soldier, “I think it's all up with me!” In the great breath + that he inhaled after having run, to refill his lungs with air, he felt + the air rush in also by a hole in his right breast, with a horrible + gurgling, like the blast in a broken bellows. In that same time his mouth + filled with blood, and a sharp pain shot through his side, which rapidly + grew worse, until it became atrocious and unspeakable. He whirled round + two or three times, his brain swimming too; and gasping for breath through + the rising red tide that choked him, fell heavily in the mud. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0021" id="link2HCH0021"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER II—“OUT, BRIEF CANDLE!” + </h2> + <p> + About a fortnight later, as the sky was darkening at the approach of the + rains, and the heat more heavily weighed over yellow Tonquin, Sylvestre + brought to Hanoi, was sent to Ha-Long, and placed on board a hospital-ship + about to return to France. + </p> + <p> + He had been carried about for some time on different stretchers, with + intervals of rest at the ambulances. They had done all they could for him; + but under the insufficient conditions, his chest had filled with water on + the pierced side, and the gurgling air entered through the wound, which + would not close up. + </p> + <p> + He had received the military medal, which gave him a moment's joy. But he + was no longer the warrior of old—resolute of gait, and steady in his + resounding voice. All that had vanished before the long-suffering and + weakening fever. He had become a home-sick boy again; he hardly spoke + except in answering occasional questions, in a feeble and almost inaudible + voice. To feel oneself so sick and so far away; to think that it wanted so + many days before he could reach home! Would he ever live until then, with + his strength ebbing away? Such a terrifying feeling of distance + continually haunted him and weighed at every wakening; and when, after a + few hours' stupor, he awoke from the sickening pain of his wounds, with + feverish heat and the whistling sound in his pierced bosom, he implored + them to put him on board, in spite of everything. He was very heavy to + carry into his ward, and without intending it, they gave him some cruel + jolts on the way. + </p> + <p> + They laid him on one of the iron camp bedsteads placed in rows, hospital + fashion, and then he set out in an inverse direction, on his long journey + through the seas. Instead of living like a bird in the full wind of the + tops, he remained below deck, in the midst of the bad air of medicines, + wounds, and misery. + </p> + <p> + During the first days the joy of being homeward bound made him feel a + little better. He could even bear being propped up in bed with pillows, + and at times he asked for his box. His seaman's chest was a deal box, + bought in Paimpol, to keep all his loved treasures in; inside were letters + from Granny Yvonne, and also from Yann and Gaud, a copy-book into which he + had copied some sea-songs, and one of the works of Confucius in Chinese, + caught up at random during pillage; on the blank sides of its leaves he + had written the simple account of his campaign. + </p> + <p> + Nevertheless he got no better, and after the first week, the doctors + decided that death was imminent. They were near the Line now, in the + stifling heat of storms. The troop-ship kept on her course, shaking her + beds, the wounded and the dying; quicker and quicker she sped over the + tossing sea, troubled still as during the sway of the monsoons. + </p> + <p> + Since leaving Ha-Long more than one patient died, and was consigned to the + deep water on the high road to France; many of the narrow beds no longer + bore their suffering burdens. + </p> + <p> + Upon this particular day it was very gloomy in the travelling hospital; on + account of the high seas it had been necessary to close the iron + port-lids, which made the stifling sick-room more unbearable. Sylvestre + was worse; the end was nigh. Lying always upon his wounded side, he + pressed upon it with both hands with all his remaining strength, to try + and allay the watery decomposition that rose in his right lung, and to + breathe with the other lung only. But by degrees the other was affected + and the ultimate agony had begun. + </p> + <p> + Dreams and visions of home haunted his brain; in the hot darkness, beloved + or horrible faces bent over him; he was in a never-ending hallucination, + through which floated apparitions of Brittany and Iceland. In the morning + was called in the priest, and the old man, who was used to seeing sailors + die, was astonished to find so pure a soul in so strong and manly a body. + </p> + <p> + He cried out for air, air! but there was none anywhere; the ventilators no + long gave any; the attendant, who was fanning him with a Chinese fan, only + moved unhealthy vapours over him of sickening staleness, which revolted + all lungs. Sometimes fierce, desperate fits came over him; he wished to + tear himself away from that bed, where he felt death would come to seize + him, and rush above into the full fresh wind and try to live again. Oh! to + be like those others, scrambling about among the rigging, and living among + the masts. But his extreme effort only ended in the feeble lifting of his + weakened head; something like the incompleted movement of a sleeper. He + could not manage it, but fell back in the hollow of his crumpled bed, + partly chained there by death; and each time, after the fatigue of a like + shock, he lost all consciousness. + </p> + <p> + To please him they opened a port at last, although it was dangerous, the + sea being very rough. It was going on for six in the evening. When the + disk was swung back, a red light entered, glorious and radiant. The dying + sun appeared upon the horizon in dazzling splendour, through a torn rift + in a gloomy sky; its blinding light glanced over the waves, and lit up the + floating hospital, like a waving torch. + </p> + <p> + But no air rushed in; the little there was outside, was powerless to enter + and drive before it the fevered atmosphere. Over all sides of that + boundless equatorial sea, floated a warm and heavy moisture, unfit for + respiration. No air on any side, not even for the poor gasping fellows on + their deathbeds. + </p> + <p> + One vision disturbed him greatly; it was of his old grandmother, walking + quickly along a road, with a heartrending look of alarm; from low-lying + funereal clouds above her, fell the drizzling rain; she was on her way to + Paimpol, summoned thither to be informed of his death. + </p> + <p> + He was struggling now, with the death-rattle in his throat. From the + corners of his mouth they sponged away the water and blood, which had + welled up in quantities from his chest in writhing agony. Still the grand, + glorious sun lit up all, like a conflagration of the whole world, with + blood-laden clouds; through the aperture of the port-hole, a wide streak + of crimson fire blazed in, and, spreading over Sylvestre's bed, formed a + halo around him. + </p> + <p> + At that very moment that same sun was to be seen in Brittany, where midday + was about to strike. It was, indeed, the same sun, beheld at the precise + moment of its never-ending round; but here it kept quite another hue. + Higher up in the bluish sky, it kept shedding a soft white light on + grandmother Yvonne, sitting out at her door, sewing. + </p> + <p> + In Iceland, too, where it was morning, it was shining at that same moment + of death. Much paler there, it seemed as if it only showed its face by + some miracle. Sadly it shed its rays over the fjord where <i>La Marie</i> + floated; and now its sky was lit up by a pure northern light, which always + gives the idea of a frozen planet's reflection, without an atmosphere. + With a cold accuracy, it outlined all the essentials of that stony chaos + that is Iceland; the whole of the country as seen from <i>La Marie</i> + seemed fixed in one same perspective and held upright. Yann was there, lit + up by a strange light, fishing, as usual, in the midst of this lunar-like + scenery. + </p> + <p> + As the beam of fiery flame that came through the port-hole faded, and the + sun disappeared completely under the gilded billows, the eyes of the + grandson rolled inward toward his brow as if to fall back into his head. + </p> + <p> + They closed his eyelids with their own long lashes, and Sylvestre became + calm and beautiful again, like a reclining marble statue of manly repose. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0022" id="link2HCH0022"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER III—THE GRAVE ABROAD + </h2> + <p> + I cannot refrain from telling you about Sylvestre's funeral, which I + conducted myself in Singapore. We had thrown enough other dead into the + Sea of China, during the early days of the home voyage; and as the Malay + land was quite near, we decided to keep his remains a few hours longer; to + bury him fittingly. + </p> + <p> + It was very early in the morning, on account of the terrible sun. In the + boat that carried him ashore, his corpse was shrouded in the national + flag. The city was in sleep as we landed. A wagonette, sent by the French + Consul, was waiting on the quay; we laid Sylvestre upon it, with a wooden + cross made on board—the paint still wet upon it, for the carpenter + had to hurry over it, and the white letters of his name ran into the black + ground. + </p> + <p> + We crossed that Babel in the rising sun. And then it was such an emotion + to find the serene calm of an European place of worship in the midst of + the distasteful turmoil of the Chinese country. Under the high white arch, + where I stood alone with my sailors, the “<i>Dies Iroe</i>,” chanted by a + missionary priest, sounded like a soft magical incantation. Through the + open doors we could see sights that resembled enchanted gardens, exquisite + verdure and immense palm-trees, the wind shook the large flowering shrubs + and their perfumed crimson petals fell like rain, almost to the church + itself. Thence we marched to the ceremony, very far off. Our little + procession of sailors was very unpretentious, but the coffin remained + conspicuously wrapped in the flag of France. We had to traverse the + Chinese quarter, through seething crowds of yellow men; and then the Malay + and Indian suburbs, where all types of Asiatic faces looked upon us with + astonishment. + </p> + <p> + Then came the open country already heated; through shady groves where + exquisite butterflies, on velvety blue wings, flitted in masses. On either + side, waved tall luxuriant palms, and quantities of flowers in splendid + profusion. At last we came to the cemetery, with mandarins' tombs and + many-coloured inscriptions, adorned with paintings of dragons and other + monsters; amid astounding foliage and plants growing everywhere. The spot + where we laid him down to rest resembled a nook in the gardens of Indra. + Into the earth we drove the little wooden cross, lettered: + </p> + <p> + SYLVESTRE MOAN, AGED 19. + </p> + <p> + And we left him, forced to go because of the hot rising sun; we turned + back once more to look at him under those marvellous trees and huge + nodding flowers. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0023" id="link2HCH0023"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IV—TO THE SURVIVORS, THE SPOILS + </h2> + <p> + The trooper continued its course through the Indian Ocean. Down below in + the floating hospital other death-scenes went on. On deck there was + carelessness of health and youth. Round about, over the sea, was a very + feast of pure sun and air. + </p> + <p> + In this fine trade-wind weather, the sailors, stretched in the shade of + the sails, were playing with little pet parrots and making them run races. + In this Singapore, which they had just left, the sailors buy all kinds of + tame animals. They had all chosen baby parrots, with childish looks upon + their hooknose faces; they had no tails yet; they were green, of a + wonderful shade. As they went running over the clean white planks, they + looked like fresh young leaves, fallen from tropical trees. + </p> + <p> + Sometimes the sailors gathered them all together in one lot, when they + inspected one another funnily; twisting about their throats, to be seen + under all aspects. They comically waddled about like so many lame people, + or suddenly started off in a great hurry for some unknown destination; and + some fell down in their excitement. And there were monkeys, learning + tricks of all kinds, another source of amusement. Some were most tenderly + loved and even kissed extravagantly, as they nestled against the callous + bosoms of their masters, gazing fondly at them with womanish eyes, + half-grotesque and half-touching. + </p> + <p> + Upon the stroke of three o'clock, the quartermasters brought on deck two + canvas bags, sealed with huge red seals, bearing Sylvestre's name; for by + order of the regulations in regard to the dead, all his clothes and + personal worldly belongings were to be sold by auction. The sailors gaily + grouped themselves around the pile; for, on board a hospital ship, too + many of these sales of effects are seen to excite any particular emotion. + Besides, Sylvestre had been but little known upon that ship. + </p> + <p> + His jackets and shirts and blue-striped jerseys were fingered and turned + over and then bought up at different prices, the buyers forcing the + bidding just to amuse themselves. + </p> + <p> + Then came the turn of the small treasure-box, which was sold for fifty + sous. The letters and military medal had been taken out of it, to be sent + back to the family; but not the book of songs and the work of Confucious, + with the needles, cotton, and buttons, and all the petty requisites placed + there by the forethought of Granny Moan for sewing and mending. + </p> + <p> + Then the quartermaster who held up the things to be sold drew out two + small buddhas, taken in some pagoda to give to Gaud, and so funny were + they that they were greeted with a general burst of laughter, when they + appeared as the last lot. But the sailors laughed, not for want of heart, + but only through thoughtlessness. + </p> + <p> + To conclude, the bags were sold, and the buyer immediately struck out the + name on them to substitute his own. + </p> + <p> + A careful sweep of the broom was afterward given to clear the scrupulously + clean deck of the dust and odds and ends, while the sailors returned + merrily to play with their parrots and monkeys. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0024" id="link2HCH0024"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER V—THE DEATH-BLOW + </h2> + <p> + One day, in the first fortnight of June, as old Yvonne was returning home, + some neighbours told her that she had been sent for by the Commissioner + from the Naval Registry Office. Of course it concerned her grandson, but + that did not frighten her in the least. The families of seafarers are used + to the Naval Registry, and she, the daughter, wife, mother, and + grandmother of seamen, had known that office for the past sixty years. + </p> + <p> + Doubtless it had to do with his “delegation”; or perhaps there was a small + prize-money account from <i>La Circe</i> to take through her proxy. As she + knew what respect was due to “<i>Monsieur le Commissaire</i>,” she put on + her best gown and a clean white cap, and set out about two o'clock. + </p> + <p> + Trotting along swiftly on the pathways of the cliff, she neared Paimpol; + and musing upon these two months without letters, she grew a bit anxious. + </p> + <p> + She met her old sweetheart sitting out at his door. He had greatly aged + since the appearance of the winter cold. + </p> + <p> + “Eh, eh! When you're ready, you know, don't make any ceremony, my beauty!” + That “suit of deal” still haunted his mind. + </p> + <p> + The joyous brightness of June smiled around her. On the rocky heights + there still grew the stunted reeds with their yellow blossoms; but passing + into the hollow nooks sheltered against the bitter sea winds, one met with + high sweet-smelling grass. But the poor old woman did not see all this, + over whose head so many rapid seasons had passed, which now seemed as + short as days. + </p> + <p> + Around the crumbling hamlet with its gloomy walls grew roses, pinks, and + stocks; and even up on the tops of the whitewashed and mossy roofs, sprang + the flowerets that attracted the first “miller” butterflies of the season. + </p> + <p> + This spring-time was almost without love in the land of Icelanders, and + the beautiful lasses of proud race, who sat out dreaming on their + doorsteps, seemed to look far beyond the visible things with their blue or + brown eyes. The young men, who were the objects of their melancholy and + desires, were remote, fishing on the northern seas. + </p> + <p> + But it was a spring-time for all that—warm, sweet, and troubling, + with its buzzing of flies and perfume of young plants. + </p> + <p> + And all this soulless freshness smiled upon the poor old grandmother, who + was quickly walking along to hear of the death of her last-born grandson. + She neared the awful moment when this event, which had taken place in the + so distant Chinese seas, was to be told to her; she was taking that + sinister walk that Sylvestre had divined at his death-hour—the sight + of that had torn his last agonized tears from him; his darling old granny + summoned to Paimpol to be told that he was dead! Clearly he had seen her + pass along that road, running straight on, with her tiny brown shawl, her + umbrella, and large head-dress. And that apparition had made him toss and + writhe in fearful anguish, while the huge, red sun of the Equator, + disappearing in its glory, peered through the port-hole of the hospital to + watch him die. But he, in his last hallucination, had seen his old granny + moving under a rain-laden sky, and on the contrary a joyous laughing + spring-time mocked her on all sides. + </p> + <p> + Nearing Paimpol, she became more and more uneasy, and improved her speed. + Now she is in the gray town with its narrow granite streets, where the sun + falls, bidding good-day to some other old women, her contemporaries, + sitting at their windows. Astonished to see her; they said: “Wherever is + she going so quickly, in her Sunday gown, on a week-day?” + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur le Commissaire” of the Naval Enlistment Office was not in just + then. One ugly little creature, about fifteen years old, who was his + clerk, sat at his desk. As he was too puny to be a fisher, he had received + some education and passed his time in that same chair, in his black linen + dust-sleeves, scratching away at paper. + </p> + <p> + With a look of importance, when she had said her name, he got up to get + the official documents from off a shelf. + </p> + <p> + There were a great many papers—what did it all mean? Parchments, + sealed papers, a sailor's record-book, grown yellow on the sea, and over + all floated an odour of death. He spread them all out before the poor old + woman, who began to tremble and feel dizzy. She had just recognized two of + the letters which Gaud used to write for her to her grandson, and which + were now returned to her never unsealed. The same thing had happened + twenty years ago at the death of her son Pierre; the letters had been sent + back from China to “Monsieur le Commissaire,” who had given them to her + thus. + </p> + <p> + Now he was reading out in a consequential voice: “Moan, + Jean-Marie-Sylvestre, registered at Paimpol, folio 213, number 2091, died + on board the <i>Bien Hoa</i>, on the 14th of ——.” + </p> + <p> + “What—what has happened to him, my good sir?” + </p> + <p> + “Discharged—dead,” he answered. + </p> + <p> + It wasn't because this clerk was unkind, but if he spoke in that brutal + way, it was through want of judgment, and from lack of intelligence in the + little incomplete being. + </p> + <p> + As he saw that she did not understand that technical expression, he said + in Breton: + </p> + <p> + “<i>Marw eo</i>!” + </p> + <p> + “<i>Marw eo</i>!” (He is dead.) + </p> + <p> + She repeated the words after him, in her aged tremulous voice, as a poor + cracked echo would send back some indifferent phrase. So what she had + partly foreseen was true; but it only made her tremble; now that it was + certain, it seemed to affect her no more. To begin with, her faculty to + suffer was slightly dulled by old age, especially since this last winter. + Pain did not strike her immediately. Something seemed to fall upside down + in her brain, and somehow or another she mixed this death up with others. + She had lost so many of them before. She needed a moment to grasp that + this was her very last one, her darling, the object of all her prayers, + life, and waiting, and of all her thoughts, already darkened by the sombre + approach of second childhood. + </p> + <p> + She felt a sort of shame at showing her despair before this little + gentleman who horrified her. Was that the way to tell a grandmother of her + darling's death? She remained standing before the desk, stiffened, and + tearing the fringes of her brown shawl with her poor aged hands, sore and + chapped with washing. + </p> + <p> + How far away she felt from home! Goodness! what a long walk back to be + gone through, and steadily, too, before nearing the whitewashed hut in + which she longed to shut herself up, like a wounded beast who hides in its + hole to die. And so she tried not to think too much and not to understand + yet, frightened above all at the long home-journey. + </p> + <p> + They gave her an order to go and take, as the heiress, the thirty francs + that came from the sale of Sylvestre's bag; and then the letters, the + certificates, and the box containing the military medal. + </p> + <p> + She took the whole parcel awkwardly with open fingers, unable to find + pockets to put them in. + </p> + <p> + She went straight through Paimpol, looking at no one, her body bent + slightly like one about to fall, with a rushing of blood in her ears; + pressing and hurrying along like some poor old machine, which could not be + wound up, at a great pressure, for the last time, without fear of breaking + its springs. + </p> + <p> + At the third mile she went along quite bent in two and exhausted; from + time to time her foot struck against the stones, giving her a painful + shock up to the very head. She hurried to bury herself in her home, for + fear of falling and having to be carried there. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0025" id="link2HCH0025"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VI—A CHARITABLE ASSUMPTION + </h2> + <h3> + “Old Yvonne's tipsy!” was the cry. + </h3> + <p> + She had fallen, and the street children ran after her. It was just at the + boundary of the parish of Ploubazlanec, where many houses straggle along + the roadside. But she had the strength to rise and hobble along on her + stick. + </p> + <p> + “Old Yvonne's tipsy!” + </p> + <p> + The bold little creatures stared her full in the face, laughing. Her <i>coiffe</i> + was all awry. Some of these little ones were not really wicked, and these, + when they scanned her closer and saw the senile grimace of bitter despair, + turned aside, surprised and saddened, daring to say nothing more. + </p> + <p> + At home, with the door tightly closed, she gave vent to the deep scream of + despair that choked her, and fell down in a corner, her head against the + wall. Her cap had fallen over her eyes; she threw off roughly what + formerly had been so well taken care of. Her Sunday dress was soiled, and + a thin mesh of yellowish white hair strayed from beneath her cap, + completing her pitiful, poverty-stricken disorder. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0026" id="link2HCH0026"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VII—THE COMFORTER + </h2> + <p> + Thus did Gaud, coming in for news in the evening, find her; her hair + dishevelled, her arms hanging down, and her head resting against the stone + wall, with a falling jaw grinning, and the plaintive whimper of a little + child; she scarcely could weep any more; these grandmothers, grown too + old, have no tears left in their dried-up eyes. + </p> + <p> + “My grandson is dead!” She threw the letters, papers, and medal into her + caller's lap. + </p> + <p> + Gaud quickly scanned the whole, saw the news was true, and fell on her + knees to pray. The two women remained there together almost dumb, through + the June gloaming, which in Brittany is long but in Iceland is + never-ending. On the hearth the cricket that brings joy was chirping his + shrill music. + </p> + <p> + The dim dusk entered through the narrow window into the dwelling of those + Moans, who had all been devoured by the sea, and whose family was now + extinguished. + </p> + <p> + At last Gaud said: “<i>I'll</i> come to you, good granny, to live with + you; I'll bring my bed that they've left me, and I'll take care of you and + nurse you—you shan't be all alone.” + </p> + <p> + She wept, too, for her little friend Sylvestre, but in her sorrow she was + led involuntarily to think of another—he who had gone back to the + deep-sea fishery. + </p> + <p> + They would have to write to Yann and tell him Sylvestre was dead; it was + just now that the fishers were starting. Would he, too, weep for him? + Mayhap he would, for he had loved him dearly. In the midst of her own + tears, Gaud thought a great deal of him; now and again waxing wroth + against the hard-hearted fellow, and then pitying him at the thought of + that pain which would strike him also, and which would be as a link + between them both—one way and another, her heart was full of him. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0027" id="link2HCH0027"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VIII—THE BROTHER'S GRIEF + </h2> + <p> + One pale August evening, the letter that announced Yann's brother's death, + at length arrived on board the <i>Marie</i>, upon the Iceland seas; it was + after a day of hard work and excessive fatigue, just as they were going + down to sup and to rest. With eyes heavy with sleep, he read it in their + dark nook below deck, lit by the yellow beam of the small lamp; at the + first moment he became stunned and giddy, like one dazed out of fair + understanding. Very proud and reticent in all things concerning the + feelings was Yann, and he hid the letter in his blue jersey, next his + breast, without saying anything, as sailors do. But he did not feel the + courage to sit down with the others to supper, and disdaining even to + explain why, he threw himself into his berth and fell asleep. Soon he + dreamed of Sylvestre dead, and of his funeral going by. + </p> + <p> + Towards midnight, being in that state of mind that is peculiar to seaman + who are conscious of the time of day in their slumber, and quite clearly + see the hour draw night when to awaken for the watch—he saw the + funeral, and said to himself: “I am dreaming; luckily the mate will come + and wake me up, and the vision will pass away.” + </p> + <p> + But when a heavy hand was laid upon him and a voice cried out: “Tumble + out, Gaos! watch, boy!” he heard the slight rustling of paper at his + breast, a fine ghastly music that affirmed the fact of the death. Yes, the + letter! It was true, then? The more cruel, heartrending impression + deepened, and he jumped up so quickly in his sudden start, that he struck + his forehead against the overhead beam. He dressed and opened the hatchway + to go up mechanically and take his place in the fishing. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0028" id="link2HCH0028"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IX—WORK CURES SORROW + </h2> + <p> + When Yann was on deck, he looked around him with sleep-laden eyes, over + the familiar circle of the sea. That night the illimitable immensity + showed itself in its most astonishingly simple aspects, in neutral tints, + giving only the impression of depth. This horizon, which indicated no + recognisable region of the earth, or even any geological age, must have + looked so many times the same since the origin of time, that, gazing upon + it, one saw nothing save the eternity of things that exist and cannot help + existing. + </p> + <p> + It was not the dead of night, for a patch of light, which seemed to ooze + from no particular point, dimly lit up the scene. The wind sobbed as usual + its aimless wail. All was gray, a fickle gray, which faded before the + fixed gaze. The sea, during its mysterious rest, hid itself under feeble + tints without a name. + </p> + <p> + Above floated scattered clouds; they had assumed various shapes, for, + without form, things cannot exist; in the darkness they had blended + together, so as to form one single vast veiling. + </p> + <p> + But in one particular spot of the sky, low down on the waters, they seemed + a dark-veined marble, the streaks clearly defined although very distant; a + tender drawing, as if traced by some dreamy hand—some chance effect, + not meant to be viewed for long, and indeed hastening to die away. Even + that alone, in the midst of this broad grandeur, appeared to mean + something; one might think that the sad, undefined thought of the + nothingness around was written there; and the sight involuntarily remained + fixed upon it. + </p> + <p> + Yann's dazzled eyes grew accustomed to the outside darkness, and gazed + more and more steadily upon that veining in the sky; it had now taken the + shape of a kneeling figure with arms outstretched. He began to look upon + it as a human shadow rendered gigantic by the distance itself. + </p> + <p> + In his mind, where his indefinite dreams and primitive beliefs still + lingered, the ominous shadow, crushed beneath the gloomy sky, slowly + coalesced with the thought of his dead brother, as if it were a last token + from him. + </p> + <p> + He was used to such strange associations of ideas, that thrive in the + minds of children. But words, vague as they may be, are still too precise + to express those feelings; one would need that uncertain language that + comes in dreams, of which upon awakening, one retains merely enigmatical, + senseless fragments. + </p> + <p> + Looking upon the cloud, he felt a deep anguish, full of unknown mystery, + that froze his very soul; he understood full well now that his poor little + brother would never more be seen; sorrow, which had been some time + penetrating the hard, rough rind of his heart, now gushed in and brimmed + it over. He beheld Sylvestre again with his soft childish eyes; at the + thought of embracing him no more, a veil fell between his eyelids and his + eyes, against his will; and, at first, he could not rightly understand + what it was—never having wept in all his manhood. But the tears + began to fall heavily and swiftly down his cheeks, and then sobs rent his + deep chest. + </p> + <p> + He went on with his fishing, losing no time and speaking to no one, and + his two mates, though hearing him in the deep silence, pretended not to do + so, for fear of irritating him, knowing him to be so haughty and reserved. + </p> + <p> + In his opinion death was the end of it all. Out of respect he often joined + in the family prayers for the dead, but he believed in no after-life of + the soul. Between themselves, in their long talks, the sailors all said + the same, in a blunt taken-for-granted way, as a well-known fact; but it + did not stop them from believing in ghosts, having a vague fear of + graveyards, and an unlimited confidence in protecting saints and images, + and above all a deep respect for the consecrated earth around the + churches. + </p> + <p> + So Yann himself feared to be swallowed up by the sea, as if it would + annihilate him, and the thought of Sylvestre, so far away on the other + side of the earth, made his sorrow more dark and desperate. With his + contempt for his fellows, he had no shame or constraint in weeping, no + more than if he were alone. + </p> + <p> + Around the boat the chaos grew whiter, although it was only two o'clock, + and at the same time it appeared to spread farther, hollowing in a fearful + manner. With that kind of rising dawn, eyes opened wider, and the awakened + mind could conceive better the immensity of distance, as the boundaries of + visible space receded and widened away. + </p> + <p> + The pale aurora increased, seeming to come in tiny jets with slight + shocks; eternal things seemed to light up by sheer transparency, as if + white-flamed lamps had slowly been raised up behind the shapeless gray + clouds, and held there with mysterious care, for fear of disturbing the + calm, even rest of the sea. Below the horizon that colossal white lamp was + the sun, which dragged itself along without strength, before taking its + leisurely ascent, which began in the dawn's eye above the ocean. + </p> + <p> + On this day, the usual rosy tints were not seen; all remained pale and + mournful. On board the gray ship, Yann wept alone. The tears of the fierce + elder brother, together with the melancholy of this surrounding waste, + were as mourning, worn in honour of the poor, obscure, young hero, upon + these seas of Iceland, where half his life had been passed. + </p> + <p> + When the full light of day appeared, Yann abruptly wiped his eyes with his + sleeve and ceased weeping. That grief was over now. He seemed completely + absorbed by the work of the fishery, and by the monotonous routine of + substantial deeds, as if he never had thought of anything else. + </p> + <p> + The catching went on apace, and there were scant hands for the work. + Around about the fishers, in the immense depths, a transformation scene + was taking place. The grand opening out of the infinitude, that great + wonder of the morning, had finished, and the distance seemed to diminish + and close in around them. How was it that before the sea had seemed so + boundless! + </p> + <p> + The horizon was quite clear now, and more space seemed necessary. The void + filled in with flecks and streamers that floated above, some vague as + mist, others with visibly jagged edges. They fell softly amid an utter + silence, like snowy gauze, but fell on all sides together, so that below + them suffocation set in swiftly; it took away the breath to see the air so + thickened. + </p> + <p> + It was the first of the August fogs that was rising. In a few moments the + winding-sheet became universally dense; all around the <i>Marie</i> a + white damp lay under the light, and in it the mast faded and disappeared. + </p> + <p> + “Here's the cursed fog now, for sure,” grumbled the men. They had long ago + made the acquaintance of that compulsory companion of the second part of + the fishing season; but it also announced its end and the time for + returning to Brittany. + </p> + <p> + It condensed into fine, sparkling drops in their beards, and shone upon + their weather-beaten faces. Looking athwart ship to one another, they + appeared dim as ghosts; and by comparison, nearer objects were seen more + clearly under the colourless light. They took care not to inhale the air + too deeply, for a feeling of chill and wet penetrated the lungs. + </p> + <p> + But the fishing was going on briskly, so that they had no time left to + chatter, and they only thought of their lines. Every moment big heavy fish + were drawn in on deck, and slapped down with a smack like a whip-crack; + there they wriggled about angrily, flapping their tails on the deck, + scattering plenty of sea-water about, and silvery scales too, in the + course of their death-struggle. The sailor who split them open with his + long knife, sometimes cut his own fingers, in his haste, so that his warm + blood mingled with the brine. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0029" id="link2HCH0029"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER X—THE WHITE FOG + </h2> + <p> + Caught in the fog, they remained ten days in succession without being able + to see anything. The fishing went on handsomely the while, and with so + much to do there was no time for weariness. At regular intervals one of + them blew a long fog-horn, whence issued a sound like the howling of a + wild beast. + </p> + <p> + Sometimes, out of the depths of white fog, another bellowing answered + their call. Then a sharper watch was kept. If the blasts were approaching, + all ears were turned in the direction of that unknown neighbour, whom they + might perhaps never see, but whose presence was nevertheless a danger. + Conjectures were made about the strange vessel; it became a subject of + conversation, a sort of company for them; all longing to see her, strained + their eyes in vain efforts to pierce those impalpable white shrouds. + </p> + <p> + Then the mysterious consort would depart, the bellowing of her trumpet + fading away in the distance, and they would remain again in the deep hush, + amid the infinity of stagnant vapour. Everything was drenched with salt + water; the cold became more penetrating; each day the sun took longer to + sink below the horizon; there were now real nights one or two hours long, + and their gray gloaming was chilly and weird. + </p> + <p> + Every morning they heaved the lead, through fear that the <i>Marie</i> + might have run too near the Icelandic coast. But all the lines on board, + fastened end to end, were paid out in vain—the bottom could not be + touched. So they knew that they were well out in blue water. + </p> + <p> + Life on board was rough and wholesome; the comfort in the snug strong + oaken cabin below was enhanced by the impression of the piercing cold + outside, when they went down to supper or for rest. + </p> + <p> + In the daytime, these men, who were as secluded as monks, spoke but little + among themselves. Each held his line, remaining for hours and hours in the + same immovable position. They were separated by some three yards of space, + but it ended in not even seeing one another. + </p> + <p> + The calm of the fog dulled the mind. Fishing so lonely, they hummed home + songs, so as not to scare the fish away. Ideas came more slowly and + seldom; they seemed to expand, filling in the space of time, without + leaving any vacuum. They dreamed of incoherent and mysterious things, as + if in slumber, and the woof of their dreams was as airy as fog itself. + </p> + <p> + This misty month of August usually terminated the Iceland season, in a + quiet, mournful way. Otherwise the full physical life was the same, + filling the sailors' lungs with rustling air and hardening their already + strong muscles. + </p> + <p> + Yann's usual manner had returned, as if his great grief had not continued; + watchful and active, quick at his fishing work, a happy-go-lucky temper, + like one who had no troubles; communicative at times, but very rarely—and + always carrying his head up high, with his old indifferent, domineering + look. + </p> + <p> + At supper in the rough retreat, when they were all seated at table, with + their knives busy on their hot plates, he occasionally laughed out as he + used to do at droll remarks of his mates. In his inner self he perhaps + thought of Gaud, to whom, doubtless, Sylvestre had plighted him in his + last hours; and she had become a poor girl now, alone in the world. And + above all, perhaps, the mourning for his beloved brother still preyed upon + his heart. But this heart of his was a virgin wilderness, difficult to + explore and little known, where many things took place unrevealed on the + exterior. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0030" id="link2HCH0030"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XI—THE SPECTRE SHIP + </h2> + <p> + One morning, going on three o'clock, while all were dreaming quietly under + their winding-sheet of fog, they heard something like a clamour of voices—voices + whose tones seemed strange and unfamiliar. Those on deck looked at each + other questioningly. + </p> + <p> + “Who's that talking?” + </p> + <p> + Nobody. Nobody had said anything. For that matter, the sounds had seemed + to come from the outer void. Then the man who had charge of the fog-horn, + but had been neglecting his duty since overnight, rushed for it, and + inflating his lungs to their utmost, sounded with all his might the long + bellow of alarm. It was enough to make a man of iron start, in such a + silence. + </p> + <p> + As if a spectre had been evoked by that thrilling, though deep-toned roar, + a huge unforeseen gray form suddenly arose very loftily and towered + threateningly right beside them; masts, spars, rigging, all like a ship + that had taken sudden shape in the air instantly, just as a single beam of + electric light evokes phantasmagoria on the screen of a magic lantern. + </p> + <p> + Men appeared, almost close enough to touch them, leaning over the + bulwarks, staring at them with eyes distended in the awakening of surprise + and dread. + </p> + <p> + The <i>Marie's</i> men rushed for oars, spars, boat-hooks, anything they + could lay their hands on for fenders, and held them out to shove off that + grisly thing and its impending visitors. Lo! these others, terrified also, + put out large beams to repel them likewise. + </p> + <p> + But there came only a very faint creaking in the topmasts, as both + standing gears momentarily entangled became disentangled without the least + damage; the shock, very gentle in such a calm had been almost wholly + deadened; indeed, it was so feeble that it really seemed as if the other + ship had no substance, that it was a mere pulp, almost without weight. + </p> + <p> + When the fright was over, the men began to laugh; they had recognised each + other. + </p> + <p> + “<i>La Marie</i>, ahoy! how are ye, lads?” + </p> + <p> + “Halloa! Gaos, Laumec, Guermeur!” + </p> + <p> + The spectre ship was the <i>Reine-Berthe</i>, also of Paimpol, and so the + sailors were from neighbouring villages; that thick, tall fellow with the + huge, black beard, showing his teeth when he laughed, was Kerjegou, one of + the Ploudaniel boys, the others were from Plounes or Plounerin. + </p> + <p> + “Why didn't you blow your fog-horn, and be blowed to you, you herd of + savages?” challenged Larvoer of the <i>Reine-Berthe</i>. + </p> + <p> + “If it comes to that, why didn't you blow yours, you crew of pirates—you + rank mess of toad-fish?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no! with us, d'ye see, the sea-law differs. <i>We're forbidden to + make any noise!</i>” + </p> + <p> + He made this reply with the air of giving a dark hint, and a queer smile, + which afterward came back to the memory of the men of the <i>Marie</i>, + and caused them a great deal of thinking. Then, as if he thought he had + said too much, he concluded with a joke: + </p> + <p> + “Our fog-horn, d'ye see, was burst by this rogue here a-blowing too hard + into it.” He pointed to a sailor with a face like a Triton, a man all + bull-neck and chest, extravagantly broad-shouldered, low-set upon his + legs, with something unspeakably grotesque and unpleasant in the deformity + of strength. + </p> + <p> + While they were looking at each other, waiting for breeze or undercurrent + to move one vessel faster than the other and separate them, a general + palaver began. Leaning over the side, but holding each other off at a + respectable distance with their long wooden props, like besieged pikemen + repelling an assault, they began to chat about home, the last letters + received, and sweethearts and wives. + </p> + <p> + “I say! my old woman,” said Kerjegou, “tells me she's had the little boy + we were looking for; that makes half-score-two now!” + </p> + <p> + Another had found himself the father of twins; and a third announced the + marriage of pretty Jenny Caroff, a girl well known to all the Icelanders, + with some rich and infirm old resident of the Commune of Plourivo. As they + were eyeing each other as if through white gauze, this also appeared to + alter the sound of the voices, which came as if muffled and from far away. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile Yann could not take his eyes off one of those brother fishermen, + a little grizzled fellow, whom he was quite sure he never had seen before, + but who had, nevertheless, straightway said to him, “How d'o, long Yann?” + with all the familiarity of bosom acquaintance. He wore the provoking + ugliness of a monkey, with an apish twinkling of mischief too in his + piercing eyes. + </p> + <p> + “As for me,” said Larvoer, of the <i>Reine-Berthe</i>, “I've been told of + the death of the grandson of old Yvonne Moan, of Ploubazlanec—who + was serving his time in the navy, you know, in the Chinese squadron—a + very great pity.” + </p> + <p> + On hearing this, all the men of <i>La Marie</i> turned towards Yann to + learn if he already knew anything of the sad news. + </p> + <p> + “Ay,” he answered in a low voice, but with an indifferent and haughty air, + “it was told me in the last letter my father sent me.” They still kept on + looking at him, curious at finding out the secret of his grief, and it + made him angry. + </p> + <p> + These questions and answers were rapidly exchanged through the pallid + mists, so the moments of this peculiar colloquy skipped swiftly by. + </p> + <p> + “My wife wrote me at the same time,” continued Larvoer, “that Monsieur + Mevel's daughter has left the town to live at Ploubazlanec and take care + of her old grand-aunt—Granny Moan. She goes out to needlework by the + day now—to earn her living. Anyhow, I always thought, I did, that + she was a good, brave girl, in spite of her fine-lady airs and her + furbelows.” + </p> + <p> + Then again they all stared at Yann, which made him still more angry; a red + flush mounted to his cheeks, under their tawny tan. + </p> + <p> + With Larvoer's expression of opinion about Gaud ended this parley with the + crew of the <i>Reine-Berthe</i>, none of whom were ever again to be seen + by human eyes. For a moment their faces became more dim, their vessel + being already farther away; and then, all at once, the men of the <i>Marie</i> + found they had nothing to push against, nothing at the end of their poles—all + spars, oars, odds and ends of deck-lumber, were groping and quivering in + emptiness, till they fell heavily, one after the other, down into the sea, + like their own arms, lopped off and inert. + </p> + <p> + They pulled all the useless defences on board. The <i>Reine-Berthe</i>, + melting away into the thick fog, had disappeared as suddenly as a painted + ship in a dissolving view. They tried to hail her, but the only response + was a sort of mocking clamour—as of many voices—ending in a + moan, that made them all stare at each other in surprise. + </p> + <p> + This <i>Reine-Berthe</i> did not come back with the other Icelandic + fishers; and as the men of the <i>Samuel-Azenide</i> afterward picked up + in some fjord an unmistakable waif (part of her taffrail with a bit of her + keel), all ceased to hope; in the month of October the names of all her + crew were inscribed upon black slabs in the church. + </p> + <p> + From the very time of that apparition—the date of which was well + remembered by the men of the <i>Marie</i>—until the time of their + return, there had been no really dangerous weather on the Icelandic seas, + but a great storm from the west had, three weeks before, swept several + sailors overboard, and swallowed up two vessels. The men remembered + Larvoer's peculiar smile, and putting things together many strange + conjectures were made. In the dead of night, Yann, more than once, dreamed + that he again saw the sailor who blinked like an ape, and some of the men + of the <i>Marie</i> wondered if, on that remembered morning, they had not + been talking with ghosts. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0031" id="link2HCH0031"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XII—THE STRANGE COUPLE + </h2> + <p> + Summer advanced, and, at the end of August, with the first autumnal mists, + the Icelanders came home. + </p> + <p> + For the last three months the two lone women had lived together at + Ploubazlanec in the Moan's cottage. Gaud filled a daughter's place in the + poor birthplace of so many dead sailors. She had sent hither all that + remained from the sale of her father's house; her grand bed in the town + fashion, and her fine, different coloured dresses. She had made herself a + plainer black dress, and like old Yvonne, wore a mourning cap, of thick + white muslin, adorned merely with simple plaits. Every day she went out + sewing at the houses of the rich people in the town, and returned every + evening without being detained on her way home by any sweetheart. She had + remained as proud as ever, and was still respected as a fine lady; and as + the lads bade her good-night, they always raised a hand to their caps. + </p> + <p> + Through the sweet evening twilight, she walked home from Paimpol, all + along the cliff road inhaling the fresh, comforting sea air. Constant + sitting at needlework had not deformed her like many others, who are + always bent in two over their work—and she drew up her beautiful + supple form perfectly erect in looking over the sea, fairly across to + where Yann was it seemed. + </p> + <p> + The same road led to his home. Had she walked on much farther, towards a + well-known rocky windswept nook, she would come to that hamlet of + Pors-Even, where the trees, covered with gray moss, grew crampedly between + the stones, and are slanted over lowly by the western gales. Perhaps she + might never more return there, although it was only a league away; but + once in her lifetime she had been there, and that was enough to cast a + charm over the whole road; and, besides, Yann would certainly often pass + that way, and she could fancy seeing him upon the bare moor, stepping + between the stumpy reeds. + </p> + <p> + She loved the whole region of Ploubazlanec, and was almost happy that fate + had driven her there; she never could have become resigned to live in any + other place. + </p> + <p> + Towards this end of August, a southern warmth, diffusing languor, rises + and spreads towards the north, with luminous afterglows and stray rays + from a distant sun, which float over the Breton seas. Often the air is + calm and pellucid, without a single cloud on high. + </p> + <p> + At the hour of Gaud's return journey, all things had already begun to fade + in the nightfall, and become fused into close, compact groups. Here and + there a clump of reeds strove to make way between stones, like a + battle-torn flag; in a hollow, a cluster of gnarled trees formed a dark + mass, or else some straw-thatched hamlet indented the moor. At the + cross-roads the images of Christ on the cross, which watch over and + protect the country, stretched out their black arms on their supports like + real men in torture; in the distance the Channel appeared fair and calm, + one vast golden mirror, under the already darkened sky and shade-laden + horizon. + </p> + <p> + In this country even the calm fine weather was a melancholy thing; + notwithstanding, a vague uneasiness seemed to hover about; a palpable + dread emanating from the sea to which so many lives are intrusted, and + whose everlasting threat only slumbered. + </p> + <p> + Gaud sauntered along as in a dream, and never found the way long enough. + The briny smell of the shore, and a sweet odour of flowerets growing along + the cliffs amid thorny bushes, perfumed the air. Had it not been for + Granny Yvonne waiting for her at home, she would have loitered along the + reed-strewn paths, like the beautiful ladies in stories, who dream away + the summer evenings in their fine parks. + </p> + <p> + Many thoughts of her early childhood came back to her as she passed + through the country; but they seemed so effaced and far away now, eclipsed + by her love looming up between. + </p> + <p> + In spite of all, she went on thinking of Yann as engaged in a degree—a + restless, scornful betrothed, whom she never would really have, but to + whom she persisted in being faithful in mind, without speaking about it to + any one. For the time, she was happy to know that he was off Iceland; for + there, at least, the sea would keep him lonely in her deep cloisters, and + he would belong to no other woman. + </p> + <p> + True, he would return one of these days, but she looked upon that return + more calmly than before. She instinctively understood that her poverty + would not be a reason for him to despise her; for he was not as other men. + Moreover, the death of poor Sylvestre would draw them closer together. + Upon his return, he could not do otherwise than come to see his friend's + old granny; and Gaud had decided to be present at that visit; for it did + not seem to her that it would be undignified. Appearing to remember + nothing, she would talk to him as to a long-known friend; she would even + speak with affection, as was due to Sylvestre's brother, and try to seem + easy and natural. And who knows? Perhaps it would not be impossible to be + as a sister to him, now that she was so lonely in the world; to rely upon + his friendship, even to ask it as a support, with enough preliminary + explanation for him not to accuse her of any after-thought of marriage. + </p> + <p> + She judged him to be untamed and stubborn in his independent ideas, yet + tender and loyal, and capable of understanding the goodness that comes + straight from the heart. + </p> + <p> + How would he feel when he met her again, in her poor ruined home? Very, + very poor she was—for Granny Moan was not strong enough now to go + out washing, and only had her small widow's pension left; granted, she ate + but little, and the two could still manage to live, not dependent upon + others. + </p> + <p> + Night was always fallen when she arrived home; before she could enter she + had to go down a little over the worn rocks, for the cottage was placed on + an incline towards the beach, below the level of the Ploubazlanec + roadside. It was almost hidden under its thick brown straw thatch, and + looked like the back of some huge beast, shrunk down under its bristling + fur. Its walls were sombre and rough like the rocks, but with tiny tufts + of green moss and lichens over them. There were three uneven steps before + the threshold, and the inside latch was opened by a length of rope-yarn + run through a hole. Upon entering, the first thing to be seen was the + window, hollowed out through the wall as in the substance of a rampart, + and giving view of the sea, whence inflowed a dying yellow light. On the + hearth burned brightly the sweet-scented branches of pine and beechwood + that old Yvonne used to pick up along the way, and she herself was sitting + there, seeing to their bit of supper; indoors she wore a kerchief over her + head to save her cap. Her still beautiful profile was outlined in the red + flame of her fire. She looked up at Gaud. Her eyes, which formerly were + brown, had taken a faded look, and almost appeared blue; they seemed no + longer to see, and were troubled and uncertain with old age. Each day she + greeted Gaud with the same words: + </p> + <p> + “Oh, dear me! my good lass, how late you are to-night!” + </p> + <p> + “No, Granny,” answered Gaud, who was used to it. “This is the same time as + other days.” + </p> + <p> + “Eh? It seemed to me, dear, later than usual.” + </p> + <p> + They sat down to supper at their table, which had almost become shapeless + from constant use, but was still as thick as the generous slice of a huge + oak. The cricket began its silver-toned music again. + </p> + <p> + One of the sides of the cottage was filled up by roughly sculptured, + worm-eaten woodwork, which had an opening wherein were set the sleeping + bunks, where generations of fishers had been born, and where their aged + mothers had died. + </p> + <p> + Quaint old kitchen utensils hung from the black beams, as well as bunches + of sweet herbs, wooden spoons, and smoked bacon; fishing-nets, which had + been left there since the shipwreck of the last Moans, their meshes + nightly bitten by the rats. + </p> + <p> + Gaud's bed stood in an angle under its white muslin draperies; it seemed + like a very fresh and elegant modern invention brought into the hut of a + Celt. + </p> + <p> + On the granite wall hung a photograph of Sylvestre in his sailor clothes. + His grandmother had fixed his military medal to it, with his own pair of + those red cloth anchors that French men-of-wars-men wear on their right + sleeve; Gaud had also brought one of those funereal crowns, of black and + white beads, placed round the portraits of the dead in Brittany. This + represented Sylvestre's mausoleum, and was all that remained to consecrate + his memory in his own land. + </p> + <p> + On summer evenings they did not sit up late, to save the lights; when the + weather was fine, they sat out a while on a stone bench before the door, + and looked at passers-by in the road, a little over their heads. Then old + Yvonne would lie down on her cupboard shelf; and Gaud on her fine bed, + would fall asleep pretty soon, being tired out with her day's work, and + walking, and dreaming of the return of the Icelanders. Like a wise, + resolute girl, she was not too greatly apprehensive. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0032" id="link2HCH0032"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIII—RENEWED DISAPPOINTMENT + </h2> + <p> + But one day in Paimpol, hearing that <i>La Marie</i> had just got in, Gaud + felt possessed with a kind of fever. All her quiet composure disappeared; + she abruptly finished up her work, without quite knowing why, and set off + home sooner than usual. + </p> + <p> + Upon the road, as she hurried on, she recognised <i>him</i>, at some + distance off, coming towards her. She trembled and felt her strength + giving way. He was now quite close, only about twenty steps off, his head + erect and his hair curling out from beneath his fisher's cap. She was so + taken by surprise at this meeting, that she was afraid she might fall, and + then he would understand all; she would die of very shame at it. She + thought, too, she was not looking well, but wearied by the hurried work. + She would have done anything to be hidden away under the reeds or in one + of the ferret-holes. + </p> + <p> + He also had taken a backward step, as if to turn in another direction. But + it was too late now. Both met in the narrow path. Not to touch her, he + drew up against the bank, with a side swerve like a skittish horse, + looking at her in a wild, stealthy way. + </p> + <p> + She, too, for one half second looked up, and in spite of herself mutely + implored him, with an agonized prayer. In that involuntary meeting of + their eyes, swift as the firing of a gun, these gray pupils of hers had + appeared to dilate and light up with some grand noble thought, which + flashed forth in a blue flame, while the blood rushed crimson even to her + temples beneath her golden tresses. + </p> + <p> + As he touched his cap he faltered. “Wish you good-day, Mademoiselle Gaud.” + </p> + <p> + “Good-day, Monsieur Yann,” she answered. + </p> + <p> + That was all. He passed on. She went on her way, still quivering, but + feeling, as he disappeared, that her blood was slowly circulating again + and her strength returning. + </p> + <p> + At home, she found Granny Moan crouching in a corner with her head held + between her hands, sobbing with her childish “he, he!” her hair + dishevelled and falling from beneath her cap like thin skeins of gray + hemp. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, my kind Gaud! I've just met young Gaos down by Plouherzel as I came + back from my wood-gathering; we spoke of our poor lad, of course. They + arrived this morning from Iceland, and in the afternoon he came over to + see me while I was out. Poor lad, he had tears in his eyes, too. He came + right up to my door, my kind Gaud, to carry my little fagot.” + </p> + <p> + She listened, standing, while her heart seemed almost to break; so this + visit of Yann's, upon which she had so much relied for saying so many + things, was already over, and would doubtless not occur again. It was all + done. Her poor heart seemed more lonely than ever. Her misery harder, and + the world more empty; and she hung her head with a wild desire to die. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0033" id="link2HCH0033"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIV—THE GRANDAM BREAKING UP + </h2> + <p> + Slowly the winter drew nigh, and spread over all like a shroud leisurely + drawn. Gray days followed one another, but Yann appeared no more, and the + two women lived on in their loneliness. With the cold, their daily + existence became harder and more expensive. + </p> + <p> + Old Yvonne was difficult to tend, too; her poor mind was going. She got + into fits of temper now, and spoke wicked, insulting speeches once or + twice every week; it took her so, like a child, about mere nothings. + </p> + <p> + Poor old granny! She was still so sweet in her lucid days, that Gaud did + not cease to respect and cherish her. To have always been so good and to + end by being bad, and show towards the close a depth of malice and + spitefulness that had slumbered during her whole life, to use a whole + vocabulary of coarse words that she had hidden; what mockery of the soul! + what a derisive mystery! She began to sing, too, which was still more + painful to hear than her angry words, for she mixed everything up together—the + <i>oremus</i> of a mass with refrains of loose songs heard in the harbour + from wandering sailors. Sometimes she sang “<i>Les Fillettes de Paimpol</i>” + (The Lasses of Paimpol), or, nodding her head and beating time with her + foot, she would mutter: + </p> + <p> + “Mon mari vient de partir; Pour la peche d'Islande, mon mari vient de + partir, Il m'a laissee sans le sou, Mais—trala, trala la lou, J'en + gagne, j'en gagne.” + </p> + <p> + (My husband went off sailing Upon the Iceland cruise, But never left me + money, Not e'en a couple sous. But—ri too loo! ri tooral loo! I know + what to do!) + </p> + <p> + She always stopped short, while her eyes opened wide with a lifeless + expression, like those dying flames that suddenly flash out before fading + away. She hung her head and remained speechless for a great length of + time, her lower jaw dropping as in the dead. + </p> + <p> + One day she could remember nothing of her grandson. “Sylvestre? + Sylvestre?” repeated she, wondering whom Gaud meant; “oh! my dear, d'ye + see, I've so many of them, that now I can't remember their names!” + </p> + <p> + So saying she threw up her poor wrinkled hands, with a careless, almost + contemptuous toss. But the next day she remembered him quite well; + mentioning several things he had said or done, and that whole day long she + wept. + </p> + <p> + Oh! those long winter evenings when there was not enough wood for their + fire; to work in the bitter cold for one's daily bread, sewing hard to + finish the clothes brought over from Paimpol. + </p> + <p> + Granny Yvonne, sitting by the hearth, remained quiet enough, her feet + stuck in among the smouldering embers, and her hands clasped beneath her + apron. But at the beginning of the evening, Gaud always had to talk to her + to cheer her a little. + </p> + <p> + “Why don't ye speak to me, my good girl? In my time I've known many girls + who had plenty to say for themselves. I don't think it 'ud seem so + lonesome, if ye'd only talk a bit.” + </p> + <p> + So Gaud would tell her chit-chat she had heard in town, or spoke of the + people she had met on her way home, talking of things that were quite + indifferent to her, as indeed all things were now; and stopping in the + midst of her stories when she saw the poor old woman was falling asleep. + </p> + <p> + There seemed nothing lively or youthful around her, whose fresh youth + yearned for youth. Her beauty would fade away, lonely and barren. The wind + from the sea came in from all sides, blowing her lamp about, and the roar + of the waves could be heard as in a ship. Listening, the ever-present sad + memory of Yann came to her, the man whose dominion was these battling + elements; through the long terrible nights, when all things were unbridled + and howling in the outer darkness, she thought of him with agony. + </p> + <p> + Always alone as she was, with the sleeping old granny, she sometimes grew + frightened and looked in all dark corners, thinking of the sailors, her + ancestors, who had lived in these nooks, but perished in the sea on such + nights as these. Their spirits might possibly return; and she did not feel + assured against the visit of the dead by the presence of the poor old + woman, who was almost as one of them herself. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly she shivered from head to foot, as she heard a thin, cracked + voice, as if stifled under the earth, proceed from the chimney corner. + </p> + <p> + In a chirping tone, which chilled her very soul, the voice sang: + </p> + <p> + “Pour la peche d'Islande, mon mari vient de partir, Il m'a laissee sans le + sou, Mais—trala, trala la lou!” + </p> + <p> + Then she was seized with that peculiar terror that one has of mad people. + </p> + <p> + The rain fell with an unceasing, fountain-like gush, and streamed down the + walls outside. There were oozings of water from the old moss-grown roof, + which continued dropping on the self-same spots with a monotonous sad + splash. They even soaked through into the floor inside, which was of + hardened earth studded with pebbles and shells. + </p> + <p> + Dampness was felt on all sides, wrapping them up in its chill masses; an + uneven, buffeting dampness, misty and dark, and seeming to isolate the + scattered huts of Ploubazlanec still more. + </p> + <p> + But the Sunday evenings were the saddest of all, because of the relative + gaiety in other homes on that day, for there are joyful evenings even + among those forgotten hamlets of the coast; here and there, from some + closed-up hut, beaten about by the inky rains, ponderous songs issued. + Within, tables were spread for drinkers; sailors sat before the smoking + fire, the old ones drinking brandy and the young ones flirting with the + girls; all more or less intoxicated and singing to deaden thought. Close + to them, the great sea, their tomb on the morrow, sang also, filling the + vacant night with its immense profound voice. + </p> + <p> + On some Sundays, parties of young fellows who came out of the taverns or + back from Paimpol, passed along the road, near the door of the Moans; they + were such as lived at the land's end of Pors-Even way. They passed very + late, caring little for the cold and wet, accustomed as they were to frost + and tempests. Gaud lent her ear to the medley of their songs and shouts—soon + lost in the uproar of the squalls or the breakers—trying to + distinguish Yann's voice, and then feeling strangely perplexed if she + thought she had heard it. + </p> + <p> + It really was too unkind of Yann not to have returned to see them again, + and to lead so gay a life so soon after the death of Sylvestre; all this + was unlike him. No, she really could not understand him now, but in spite + of all she could not forget him or believe him to be without heart. + </p> + <p> + The fact was that since his return he had been leading a most dissipated + life indeed. Three or four times, on the Ploubazlanec road, she had seen + him coming towards her, but she was always quick enough to shun him; and + he, too, in those cases, took the opposite direction over the heath. As if + by mutual understanding, now, they fled from each other. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0034" id="link2HCH0034"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XV—THE NEW SHIP + </h2> + <p> + At Paimpol lives a large, stout woman named Madame Tressoleur. In one of + the streets that lead to the harbour she keeps a tavern, well known to all + the Icelanders, where captains and ship-owners come to engage their + sailors, and choose the strongest among them, men and masters all drinking + together. + </p> + <p> + At one time she had been beautiful, and was still jolly with the fishers; + she has a mustache, is as broad built as a Dutchman, and as bold and ready + of speech as a Levantine. There is a look of the daughter of the regiment + about her, notwithstanding her ample nun-like muslin headgear; for all + that, a religious halo of its sort floats around her, for the simple + reason that she is a Breton born. + </p> + <p> + The names of all the sailors of the country are written in her head as in + a register; she knows them all, good or bad, and knows exactly, too, what + they earn and what they are worth. + </p> + <p> + One January day, Gaud, who had been called in to make a dress, sat down to + work in a room behind the tap-room. + </p> + <p> + To go into the abode of our Madame Tressoleur, you enter by a broad, + massive-pillared door, which recedes in the olden style under the first + floor. When you go to open this door, there is always some obliging gust + of wind from the street that pushes it in, and the new-comers make an + abrupt entrance, as if carried in by a beach roller. The hall is adorned + by gilt frames, containing pictures of ships and wrecks. In an angle a + china statuette of the Virgin is placed on a bracket, between two bunches + of artificial flowers. + </p> + <p> + These olden walls must have listened to many powerful songs of sailors, + and witnessed many wild gay scenes, since the first far-off days of + Paimpol—all through the lively times of the privateers, up to these + of the present Icelanders, so very little different from their ancestors. + Many lives of men have been angled for and hooked there, on the oaken + tables, between two drunken bouts. + </p> + <p> + While she was sewing the dress, Gaud lent her ear to the conversation + going on about Iceland, behind the partition, between Madame Tressoleur + and two old sailors, drinking. They were discussing a new craft that was + being rigged in the harbour. She never would be ready for the next season, + so they said of this <i>Leopoldine</i>. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, to be sure she will!” answered the hostess. “I tell 'ee the crew + was all made up yesterday—the whole of 'em out of the old <i>Marie</i> + of Guermeur's, that's to be sold for breaking up; five young fellows + signed their engagement here before me, at this here table, and with my + own pen—so ye see, I'm right! And fine fellows, too, I can tell 'ee; + Laumec, Tugdual Caroff, Yvon Duff, young Keraez from Treguier, and long + Yann Gaos from Pors-Even, who's worth any three on 'em!” + </p> + <p> + The <i>Leopoldine</i>! The half-heard name of the ship that was to carry + Yann away became suddenly fixed in her brain, as if it had been hammered + in to remain more ineffaceably there. + </p> + <p> + At night back again at Ploubazlanec, and finishing off her work by the + light of her pitiful lamp, that name came back to her mind, and its very + sound impressed her as a sad thing. The names of vessels, as of things, + have a significance in themselves—almost a particular meaning of + their own. The new and unusual word haunted her with an unnatural + persistency, like some ghastly and clinging warning. She had expected to + see Yann start off again on the <i>Marie</i>, which she knew so well and + had formerly visited, and whose Virgin had so long protected its dangerous + voyages; and the change to the <i>Leopoldine</i> increased her anguish. + </p> + <p> + But she told herself that that was not her concern, and nothing about him + ought ever to affect her. After all, what could it matter to her whether + he were here or there, on this ship or another, ashore or not? Would she + feel less miserable with him back in Iceland, when the summer would return + over the deserted cottages, and lonely anxious women—or when a new + autumn came again, bringing home the fishers once more? All that was alike + indifferent to her, equally without joy or hope. There was no link between + them now, nothing ever to bring them together, for was he not forgetting + even poor little Sylvestre? So, she had plainly to understand that this + sole dream of her life was over for ever; she had to forget Yann, and all + things appertaining to his existence, even the very name of Iceland, which + still vibrated in her with so painful a charm—because of him all + such thoughts must be swept away. All was indeed over, for ever and ever. + </p> + <p> + She tenderly looked over at the poor old woman asleep, who still required + all her attention, but who would soon die. Then, what would be the good of + living and working after that; of what use would she be? + </p> + <p> + Out of doors, the western wind had again risen; and, notwithstanding its + deep distant soughing, the soft regular patter of the eaves-droppings + could be heard as they dripped from the roof. And so the tears of the + forsaken one began to flow—tears running even to her lips to impart + their briny taste, and dropping silently on her work, like summer showers + brought by no breeze, but suddenly falling, hurried and heavy, from the + over-laden clouds; as she could no longer see to work, and she felt worked + out and discouraged before this great hollowness of her life, she folded + up the extra-sized body of Madame Tressoleur and went to bed. + </p> + <p> + She shivered upon that fine, grand bed, for, like all things in the + cottage, it seemed also to be getting colder and damper. But as she was + very young, although she still continued weeping, it ended by her growing + warm and falling asleep. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0035" id="link2HCH0035"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVI—LONE AND LORN + </h2> + <p> + Other sad weeks followed on, till it was early February, fine, temperate + weather. Yann had just come from his shipowner's where he had received his + wages for the last summer's fishery, fifteen hundred francs, which, + according to the custom of the family, he carried to his mother. The catch + had been a good one, and he returned well pleased. + </p> + <p> + Nearing Ploubazlanec, he spied a crowd by the side of the road. An old + woman was gesticulating with her stick, while the street boys mocked and + laughed around her. It was Granny Moan. The good old granny whom Sylvestre + had so tenderly loved—her dress torn and bedraggled—had now + become one of those poor old women, almost fallen back in second + childhood, who are followed and ridiculed along their roads. The sight + hurt him cruelly. + </p> + <p> + The boys of Ploubazlanec had killed her cat, and she angrily and + despairingly threatened them with her stick. “Ah, if my poor lad had only + been here! for sure, you'd never dared do it, you young rascals!” + </p> + <p> + It appeared that as she ran after them to beat them, she had fallen down; + her cap was awry, and her dress covered with mud; they called out that she + was tipsy (as often happens to those poor old “grizzling” people in the + country who have met misfortune). + </p> + <p> + But Yann clearly knew that that was not true, and that she was a very + respectable old woman, who only drank water. + </p> + <p> + “Aren't you ashamed?” roared he to the boys. + </p> + <p> + He was very angry, and his voice and tone frightened them, so that in the + twinkling of an eye they all took flight, frightened and confused before + “Long Gaos.” + </p> + <p> + Gaud, who was just returning from Paimpol, bringing home her work for the + evening, had seen all this from afar, and had recognised Granny in the + group. She eagerly rushed forward to learn what the matter was, and what + they had done to her; seeing the cat, she understood it all. She lifted up + her frank eyes to Yann, who did not look aside; neither thought of + avoiding each other now; but they both blushed deeply and they gazed + rather startled at being so near one another; but without hatred, almost + with affection, united as they were in this common impulse of pity and + protection. + </p> + <p> + The school-children had owed a grudge to the poor dead grimalkin for some + time, because he had a black, satanic look; though he was really a very + good cat, and when one looked closely at him, he was soft and + caress-inviting of coat. They had stoned him to death, and one of his eyes + hung out. The poor old woman went on grumbling, shaking with emotion, and + carrying her dead cat by the tail, like a dead rabbit. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, dear, oh, dear! my poor boy, my poor lad, if he were only here; for + sure, they'd never dared a-do it.” + </p> + <p> + Tears were falling down in her poor wrinkles; and her rough blue-veined + hands trembled. + </p> + <p> + Gaud had put her cap straight again, and tried to comfort her with + soothing words. Yann was quite indignant to think that little children + could be so cruel as to do such a thing to a poor aged woman and her pet. + Tears almost came into his eyes, and his heart ached for the poor old dame + as he thought of Sylvestre, who had loved her so dearly, and the terrible + pain it would have been to him to see her thus, under derision and in + misery. + </p> + <p> + Gaud excused herself as if she were responsible for her state. “She must + have fallen down,” she said in a low voice; “'tis true her dress isn't + new, for we're not very rich, Monsieur Yann; but I mended it again only + yesterday, and this morning when I left home I'm sure she was neat and + tidy.” + </p> + <p> + He looked at her steadfastly, more deeply touched by that simple excuse + than by clever phrases or self-reproaches and tears. Side by side they + walked on to the Moans' cottage. He always had acknowledged her to be + lovelier than any other girl, but it seemed to him that she was even more + beautiful now in her poverty and mourning. She wore a graver look, and her + gray eyes had a more reserved expression, and nevertheless seemed to + penetrate to the inner depth of the soul. Her figure, too, was thoroughly + formed. She was twenty-three now, in the full bloom of her loveliness. She + looked like a genuine fisher's daughter, too, in her plain black gown and + cap; yet one could not precisely tell what gave her that unmistakable + token of the lady; it was involuntary and concealed within herself, and + she could not be blamed for it; only perhaps her bodice was a trifle nicer + fitting than the others, though from sheer inborn taste, and showed to + advantage her rounded bust and perfect arms. But, no! the mystery was + revealed in her quiet voice and look. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0036" id="link2HCH0036"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVII—THE ESPOUSAL + </h2> + <p> + It was manifest that Yann meant to accompany them; perhaps all the way + home. They walked on, all three together, as if following the cat's + funeral procession; it was almost comical to watch them pass; and the old + folks on the doorsteps grinned at the sight. Old Yvonne, in the middle, + carried the dead pet; Gaud walked on her right, trembling and blushing, + and tall Yann on the left, grave and haughty. + </p> + <p> + The aged woman had become quiet now; she had tidied her hair up herself + and walked silently, looking alternately at them both from the tail of her + eyes, which had become clear again. + </p> + <p> + Gaud said nothing for fear of giving Yann the opportunity of taking his + leave; she would have liked to feel his kind, tender eyes eternally on + her, and to walk along with her own closed so as to think of nothing else; + to wander along thus by his side in the dream she was weaving, instead of + arriving so soon at their lonely, dark cottage, where all must fade away. + </p> + <p> + At the door occurred one of those moments of indecision when the heart + seems to stop beating. The grandam went in without turning round, then + Gaud, hesitating, and Yann, behind, entered, too. + </p> + <p> + He was in their house for the first time in his life—probably + without any reason. What could he want? As he passed over the threshold he + touched his hat, and then his eyes fell and dwelt upon Sylvestre's + portrait in its small black-beaded frame. He went slowly up to it, as to a + tomb. + </p> + <p> + Gaud remained standing with her hands resting on the table. He looked + around him; she watched him take a silent inspection of their poverty. + Very poor looked this cottage of the two forsaken women. At least he might + feel some pity for her, seeing her reduced to this misery inside its plain + granite and whitewash. Only the fine white bed remained of all past + splendour, and involuntarily Yann's eyes rested there. + </p> + <p> + He said nothing. Why did he not go? The old grandmother, although still so + sharp in her lucid intervals, appeared not to notice him. How odd! So they + remained over against one another, seeming respectively to question with a + yearning desire. But the moments were flitting, and each second seemed to + emphasize the silence between them. They gazed at one another more and + more searchingly, as if in solemn expectation of some wonderful, exquisite + event, which was too long in coming. + </p> + <p> + “Gaud,” he began, in a low grave voice, “if you're still of a mind now——” + </p> + <p> + What was he going to say? She felt instinctively that he had suddenly + taken a mighty resolution—rapidly as he always did, but hardly dared + word it. + </p> + <p> + “If you be still of a mind—d'ye see, the fish has sold well this + year, and I've a little money ahead——” + </p> + <p> + “If she were still of a mind!” What was he asking of her? Had she heard + aright? She felt almost crushed under the immensity of what she thought + she premised. + </p> + <p> + All the while, old Yvonne, in her corner, pricked up her ears, feeling + happiness approach. + </p> + <p> + “We could make a splice on it—a marriage, right off, Mademoiselle + Gaud, if you are still of the same mind?” + </p> + <p> + He listened here for her answer, which did not come. What could stop her + from pronouncing that “yes?” He looked astonished and frightened, she + could see that. Her hands clutched the table edge. She had turned quite + white and her eyes were misty; she was voiceless, and looked like some + maid dying in her flower. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Gaud, why don't you answer?” said Granny Yvonne, who had risen and + come towards them. “Don't you see, it rather surprises her, Monsieur Yann. + You must excuse her. She'll think it over and answer you later on. Sit you + down a bit, Monsieur Yann, and take a glass of cider with us.” + </p> + <p> + It was not the surprise, but ecstasy that prevented Gaud from answering; + no words at all came to her relief. So it really was true that he was good + and kind-hearted. She knew him aright—the same true Yann, her own, + such as she never had ceased to see him, notwithstanding his sternness and + his rough refusal. For a long time he had disdained her, but now he + accepted her, although she was poor. No doubt it had been his wish all + through; he may have had a motive for so acting, which she would know + hereafter; but, for the present, she had no intention of asking him his + meaning, or of reproaching him for her two years of pining. Besides, all + that was past, ay, and forgotten now; in one single moment everything + seemed carried away before the delightful whirlwind that swept over her + life! + </p> + <p> + Still speechless, she told him of her great love and adoration for him by + her sweet brimming eyes alone; she looked deeply and steadily at him, + while the copious shower of happy tears poured adown her roseate cheeks. + </p> + <p> + “Well done! and God bless you, my children,” said Granny Moan. “It's + thankful I be to Him, too, for I'm glad to have been let grow so old to + see this happy thing afore I go.” + </p> + <p> + Still there they remained, standing before one another with clasped hands, + finding no words to utter; knowing of no word sweet enough, and no + sentence worthy to break that exquisite silence. + </p> + <p> + “Why don't ye kiss one another, my children? Lor'! but they're dumb! Dear + me, what strange grandchildren I have here! Pluck up, Gaud; say some'at to + him, my dear. In my time lovers kissed when they plighted their troth.” + </p> + <p> + Yann raised his hat, as if suddenly seized with a vast, heretofore unfelt + reverence, before bending down to kiss Gaud. It seemed to him that this + was the first kiss worthy of the name he ever had given in his life. + </p> + <p> + She kissed him also, pressing her fresh lips, unused to refinements of + caresses, with her whole heart, to his sea-bronzed cheek. + </p> + <p> + Among the stones the cricket sang of happiness, being right for this time. + And Sylvestre's pitiful insignificant portrait seemed to smile on them out + of its black frame. All things, in fact, seemed suddenly to throb with + life and with joy in the blighted cottage. The very silence apparently + burst into exquisite music; and the pale winter twilight, creeping in at + the narrow window, became a wonderful, unearthly glow. + </p> + <p> + “So we'll go to the wedding when the Icelanders return; eh, my dear + children?” + </p> + <p> + Gaud hung her head. “Iceland,” the “<i>Leopoldine</i>”—so it was all + real! while she had already forgotten the existence of those terrible + things that arose in their way. + </p> + <p> + “When the Icelanders return.” + </p> + <p> + How long that anxious summer waiting would seem! + </p> + <p> + Yann drummed on the floor with his foot feverishly and rapidly. He seemed + to be in a great hurry to be off and back, and was telling the days to + know if, without losing time, they would be able to get married before his + sailing. So many days to get the official papers filled and signed; so + many for the banns: that would only bring them up to the twentieth or + twenty-fifth of the month for the wedding, and if nothing rose in the way, + they could have a whole honeymoon week together before he sailed. + </p> + <p> + “I'm going to start by telling my father,” said he, with as much haste as + if each moment of their lives were now numbered and precious. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_PART4" id="link2H_PART4"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + PART IV — YANN'S FIRST WEDDING + </h2> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0037" id="link2HCH0037"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER I—THE COURTING BY THE SEA + </h2> + <p> + All sweethearts like to sit on the bench at their cottage door, when night + falls. + </p> + <p> + Yann and Gaud did that likewise. Every evening they sat out together + before the Moans' cottage, on the old granite seat, and talked love. + </p> + <p> + Others have the spring-time, the soft shadow of the trees, balmy evenings, + and flowering rosebushes; they had only the February twilight, which fell + over the sea-beaten land, strewn with eel-grass and stones. There was no + branch of verdure above their heads or around them; nothing but the + immense sky, over which passed the slowly wandering mists. And their + flowers were brown sea-weeds, drawn up from the beach by the fishers, as + they dragged their nets along. + </p> + <p> + The winters are not very severe in this part of the country, being + tempered by currents of the sea; but, notwithstanding that, the gloaming + was often laden with invisible icy rain, which fell upon their shoulders + as they sat together. But they remained there, feeling warm and happy. The + bench, which was more than a hundred years old, did not seem in the least + surprised at their love, having seen many other pairs in its time; it had + listened to many soft words, which are always the same on the lips of the + young, from generation to generation; and it had become used to seeing + lovers sit upon it again, when they returned to it old and trembling; but + in the broad day, this time, to warm themselves in the last sun they would + see. + </p> + <p> + From time to time Granny Moan would put her head out at the door to have a + look at them, and try to induce them to come in. “You'll catch cold, my + good children,” said she, “and then you'll fall ill—Lord knows, it + really isn't sensible to remain out so late.” + </p> + <p> + Cold! they cold? Were they conscious of anything else besides the bliss of + being together. + </p> + <p> + The passers-by in the evening down their pathway, heard the soft murmur of + two voices mingling with the voice of the sea, down below at the foot of + the cliffs. It was a most harmonious music; Gaud's sweet, fresh voice + alternated with Yann's, which had soft, caressing notes in the lower + tones. Their profiles could be clearly distinguished on the granite wall + against which they reclined; Gaud with her white headgear and slender + black-robed figure, and beside her the broad, square shoulders of her + beloved. Behind and above rose the ragged dome of the straw thatch, and + the darkening, infinite, and colourless waste of the sea and sky floated + over all. + </p> + <p> + Finally, they did go in to sit down by the hearth, whereupon old Yvonne + immediately nodded off to sleep, and did not trouble the two lovers very + much. So they went on communing in a low voice, having to make up for two + years of silence; they had to hurry on their courtship because it was to + last so short a time. + </p> + <p> + It was arranged that they were to live with Granny Moan, who would leave + them the cottage in her will; for the present, they made no alterations in + it, for want of time, and put off their plan for embellishing their poor + lonely home until the fisherman's return from Iceland. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0038" id="link2HCH0038"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER II—THE SEAMAN'S SECRET + </h2> + <p> + One evening Yann amused himself by relating to his affianced a thousand + things she had done, or which had happened to her since their first + meeting; he even enumerated to her the different dresses she had had, and + the jollifications to which she had been. + </p> + <p> + She listened in great surprise. How did he know all this? Who would have + thought of a man ever paying any attention to such matters, and being + capable of remembering so clearly? + </p> + <p> + But he only smiled at her in a mysterious way, and went on mentioning + other facts to her that she had altogether forgotten. + </p> + <p> + She did not interrupt him; nay, she but let him continue, while an + unexpected delicious joy welled up in her heart; she began, at length, to + divine and understand everything. He, too, had loved—loved her, + through that weary time. She had been his constant thought, as he was + guilelessly confessing. But, in this case, what had been his reason for + repelling her at first and making her suffer so long? + </p> + <p> + There always remained this mystery that he had promised to explain to her—yet + still seemed to elude—with a confused, incomprehensible smile. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0039" id="link2HCH0039"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER III—THE OMINOUS WEDDING-DRESS + </h2> + <p> + One fine day, the loving pair went over to Paimpol, with Granny Moan, to + buy the wedding-dress. + </p> + <p> + Gaud could very easily have done over one of her former town-lady's + dresses for the occasion. But Yann had wanted to make her this present, + and she had not resisted too long the having a dress given by her + betrothed, and paid for by the money he had earned at his fishing; it + seemed as if she were already his wife by this act. + </p> + <p> + They chose black, for Gaud had not yet left off mourning for her father; + but Yann did not find any of the stuffs they placed before them good + enough. He was not a little overbearing with the shopman; he, who formerly + never would have set his foot inside a shop, wanted to manage everything + himself, even to the very fashion of the dress. He wished it adorned with + broad beads of velvet, so that it would be very fine, in his mind. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0040" id="link2HCH0040"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IV—FLOWER OF THE THORN + </h2> + <p> + One evening as these lovers sat out on their stone bench in the solitude + over which the night fell, they suddenly perceived a hawthorn bush, which + grew solitarily between the rocks, by the side of the road, covered with + tiny flowered tufts. + </p> + <p> + “It looks as if 'twas in bloom,” said Yann. + </p> + <p> + They drew near to inspect it. It was in full flower, indeed. As they could + not see very well in the twilight, they touched the tiny blooms, wet with + mist. Then the first impression of spring came to them at the same time + they noticed this; the days had already lengthened, the air was warmer, + and the night more luminous. But how forward this particular bush was! + They could not find another like it anywhere around, not one! It had + blossomed, you see, expressly for them, for the celebration of their + loving plight. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! let us gather some more,” said Yann. + </p> + <p> + Groping in the dark, he cut a nosegay with the stout sailor's knife that + he always wore in his belt, and paring off all the thorns, he placed it in + Gaud's bosom. + </p> + <p> + “You look like a bride now,” said he, stepping back to judge of the + effect, notwithstanding the deepening dusk. + </p> + <p> + At their feet the calm sea rose and fell over the shingle with an + intermittent swash, regular as the breathing of a sleeper; for it seemed + indifferent or ever favourable to the love-making going on hard by. + </p> + <p> + In expectation of these evenings the days appeared long to them, and when + they bade each other good-bye at ten o'clock, they felt a kind of + discouragement, because it was all so soon over. + </p> + <p> + They had to hurry with the official documents for fear of not being ready + in time, and of letting their happiness slip by until the autumn, or even + uncertainty. + </p> + <p> + Their evening courtship in that mournful spot, lulled by the continual + even wash of the sea, with that feverish impression of the flight of time, + was almost gloomy and ominous. They were like no lovers; more serious and + restless were they in their love than the common run. + </p> + <p> + Yet Yann never told her what mysterious thing had kept him away from her + for these two lonely years; and after he returned home of a night, Gaud + grew uneasy as before, although he loved her perfectly—this she + knew. It is true that he had loved her all along, but not as now; love + grew stronger in his heart and mind, like a tide rising and overbrimming. + He never had known this kind of love before. + </p> + <p> + Sometimes on their stone seat he lay down, resting his head in Gaud's lap + like a caressing child, till, suddenly remembering propriety, he would + draw himself up erect. He would have liked to lie on the very ground at + her feet, and remain there with his brow pressed to the hem of her + garments. Excepting the brotherly kiss he gave her when he came and went, + he did not dare to embrace her. He adored that invisible spirit in her, + which appeared in the very sound of her pure, tranquil voice, the + expression of her smile, and in her clear eye. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0041" id="link2HCH0041"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER V—THE COST OF OBSTINACY + </h2> + <p> + One rainy evening they were sitting side by side near the hearth, and + Granny Moan was asleep opposite them. The fire flames, dancing over the + branches on the hearth, projected their magnified shadows on the beams + overhead. + </p> + <p> + They spoke to one another in that low voice of all lovers. But upon this + particular evening their conversation was now and again broken by long + troubled silence. He, in particular, said very little and lowered his head + with a faint smile, avoiding Gaud's inquiring eyes. For she had been + pressing him with questions all the evening concerning that mystery that + he positively would not divulge; and this time he felt himself cornered. + She was too quick for him, and had fully made up her mind to learn; no + possible shifts could get him out of telling her now. + </p> + <p> + “Was it any bad tales told about me?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + He tried to answer “yes,” and faltered: “Oh! there was always plenty of + rubbish babbled in Paimpol and Ploubazlanec.” + </p> + <p> + She asked what, but he could not answer her; so then she thought of + something else. “Was it about my style of dress, Yann?” + </p> + <p> + Yes, of course, that had had something to do with it; at one time she had + dressed too grandly to be the wife of a simple fisherman. But he was + obliged to acknowledge that that was not all. + </p> + <p> + “Was it because at that time we passed for very rich people, and you were + afraid of being refused?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no! not that.” He said this with such simple confidence that Gaud was + amused. + </p> + <p> + Then fell another silence, during which the moaning of the sea-winds was + heard outside. Looking attentively at him, a fresh idea struck her, and + her expression changed. + </p> + <p> + “If not anything of that sort, Yann, <i>what</i> was it?” demanded she, + suddenly, looking at him fair in the eyes, with the irresistible + questioning look of one who guesses the truth, and could dispense with + confirmation. + </p> + <p> + He turned aside, laughing outright. + </p> + <p> + So at last she had, indeed, guessed aright; he never could give her a real + reason, because there was none to give. He had simply “played the mule” + (as Sylvestre had said long ago). But everybody had teased him so much + about that Gaud, his parents, Sylvestre, his Iceland mates, and even Gaud + herself. Hence he had stubbornly said “no,” but knew well enough in the + bottom of his heart that when nobody thought any more about the hollow + mystery it would become “yes.” + </p> + <p> + So it was on account of Yann's childishness that Gaud had been + languishing, forsaken for two long years, and had longed to die. + </p> + <p> + At first Yann laughed, but now he looked at Gaud with kind eyes, + questioning deeply. Would she forgive him? He felt such remorse for having + made her suffer. Would she forgive him? + </p> + <p> + “It's my temper that does it, Gaud,” said he. “At home with my folks, it's + the same thing. Sometimes, when I'm stubborn, I remain a whole week + angered against them, without speaking to anybody. Yet you know how I love + them, and I always end by doing what they wish, like a boy. If you think + that I was happy to live unmarried, you're mistaken. No, it couldn't have + lasted anyway, Gaud, you may be sure.” + </p> + <p> + Of course, she forgave him. As she felt the soft tears fall, she knew they + were the outflow of her last pangs vanishing before Yann's confession. + Besides, the present never would have been so happy without all her + suffering; that being over, she was almost pleased at having gone through + that time of trial. + </p> + <p> + Everything was finally cleared up between them, in a very unexpected + though complete manner; there remained no clouds between their souls. He + drew her towards him, and they remained some time with their cheeks + pressed close, requiring no further explanations. So chaste was their + embrace, that the old grandam suddenly awaking, they remained before her + as they were without any confusion or embarrassment. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0042" id="link2HCH0042"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VI—THE BRIDAL + </h2> + <p> + It was six days before the sailing for Iceland. Their wedding procession + was returning from Ploubazlanec Church, driven before a furious wind, + under a sombre, rain-laden sky. + </p> + <p> + They looked very handsome, nevertheless, as they walked along as in a + dream, arm-in-arm, like king and queen leading a long cortege. Calm, + reserved, and grave, they seemed to see nothing about them; as if they + were above ordinary life and everybody else. The very wind seemed to + respect them, while behind them their “train” was a jolly medley of + laughing couples, tumbled and buffeted by the angry western gale. + </p> + <p> + Many people were present, overflowing with young life; others turning + gray, but these still smiled as they thought of <i>their</i> wedding-day + and younger years. Granny Yvonne was there and following, too, panting a + little, but something like happy, hanging on the arm of an old uncle of + Yann's, who was paying her old-fashioned compliments. She wore a grand new + cap, bought for the occasion, and her tiny shawl, which had been dyed a + third time, and black, because of Sylvestre. + </p> + <p> + The wind worried everybody; dresses and skirts, bonnets and <i>coiffes</i>, + were similarly tossed about mercilessly. + </p> + <p> + At the church door, the newly married couple, pursuant to custom, had + bought two nosegays of artificial flowers, to complete their bridal + attire. Yann had fastened his on anyhow upon his broad chest, but he was + one of those men whom anything becomes. As for Gaud, there was still + something of the lady about the manner in which she had placed the rude + flowers in her bodice, as of old very close fitting to her unrivalled + form. + </p> + <p> + The violin player, who led the whole band, bewildered by the wind, played + at random; his tunes were heard by fits and starts betwixt the noisy + gusts, and rose as shrill as the screaming of a sea-gull. All Ploubazlanec + had turned out to look at them. This marriage seemed to excite people's + sympathy, and many had come from far around; at each turn of the road + there were groups stationed to see them pass. Nearly all Yann's mates, the + Icelanders of Paimpol, were there. They cheered the bride and bridegroom + as they passed; Gaud returned their greeting, bowing slightly like a town + lady, with serious grace; and all along the way she was greatly admired. + </p> + <p> + The darkest and most secluded hamlets around, even those in the woods, had + been emptied of all their beggars, cripples, wastrels, poor, and idiots on + crutches; these wretches scattered along the road, with accordions and + hurdy-gurdies; they held out their hands and hats to receive the alms that + Yann threw to them with his own noble look and Gaud with her beautiful + queenly smile. Some of these poor waifs were very old and wore gray locks + on heads that had never held much; crouching in the hollows of the + roadside, they were of the same colour as the earth from which they seemed + to have sprung, but so unformed as soon to be returned without ever having + had any human thoughts. Their wandering glances were as indecipherable as + the mystery of their abortive and useless existences. Without + comprehending, they looked at the merrymakers' line pass by. It went on + beyond Pors-Even and the Gaoses' home. They meant to follow the ancient + bridal tradition of Ploubazlanec and go to the chapel of La Trinite, which + is situated at the very end of the Breton country. + </p> + <p> + At the foot of the outermost cliff, it rests on a threshold of low-lying + rocks close to the water, and seems almost to belong to the sea already. A + narrow goat's path leads down to it through masses of granite. + </p> + <p> + The wedding party spread over the incline of the forsaken cape head; and + among the rocks and stones, happy words were lost in the roar of the wind + and the surf. + </p> + <p> + It was useless to try and reach the chapel; in this boisterous weather the + path was not safe, the sea came too close with its high rollers. Its + white-crested spouts sprang up in the air, so as to break over everything + in a ceaseless shower. + </p> + <p> + Yann, who had advanced the farthest with Gaud on his arm, was the first to + retreat before the spray. Behind, his wedding party had remained strewn + about the rocks, in a semicircle; it seemed as if he had come to present + his wife to the sea, which received her with scowling, ill-boding aspect. + </p> + <p> + Turning round, he caught sight of the violinist perched on a gray rock, + trying vainly to play his dance tunes between gusts of wind. + </p> + <p> + “Put up your music, my lad,” said Yann; “old Neptune is playing us a + livelier tune than yours.” + </p> + <p> + A heavily beating shower, which had threatened since morning, began to + fall. There was a mad rush then, accompanied by outcries and laughter, to + climb up the bluff and take refuge at the Gaoses'. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0043" id="link2HCH0043"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VII—THE DISCORDANT NOTE + </h2> + <p> + The wedding breakfast was given at Yann's parents', because Gaud's home + was so poor. It took place upstairs in the great new room. Five-and-twenty + guests sat down round the newly married pair—sisters and brothers, + cousin Gaos the pilot, Guermeur, Keraez, Yvon Duff, all of the old <i>Marie's</i> + crew, who were now the <i>Leopoldine's</i>; four very pretty bridesmaids, + with their hair-plaits wound round their ears, like the empresses' in + ancient Byzantium, and their modern white caps, shaped like sea-shells; + and four best men, all broad-shouldered Icelanders, with large proud eyes. + </p> + <p> + Downstairs, of course, there was eating and cooking going on; the whole + train of the wedding procession had gathered there in disorder; and the + extra servants, hired from Paimpol, well-nigh lost their senses before the + mighty lumbering up of the capacious hearth with pots and pans. + </p> + <p> + Yann's parents would have wished a richer wife for their son, naturally, + but Gaud was known now as a good, courageous girl; and then, in spite of + her lost fortune, she was the greatest beauty in the country, and it + flattered them to see the couple so well matched. + </p> + <p> + The old father was inclined to be merry after the soup, and spoke of the + bringing up of his fourteen little Gaoses; but they were all doing well, + thanks to the ten thousand francs that had made them well off. + </p> + <p> + Neighbour Guermeur related the tricks he played in the navy, yarns about + China, the West Indies, and Brazil, making the young ones who would be off + some day, open their eyes in wonderment. + </p> + <p> + “There is a cry against the sea-service,” said the old sailor, laughing, + “but a man can have fine fun in it.” + </p> + <p> + The weather did not clear up; on the contrary, the wind and rain raged + through the gloomy night; and in spite of the care taken, some of the + guests were fidgety about their smacks anchored in the harbour, and spoke + of getting up to go and see if all was right. But here a more jovial sound + than ever was heard from downstairs, where the younger members of the + party were supping together; cheers of joy and peals of laughter ascended. + The little cousins were beginning to feel exhilarated by the cider. + </p> + <p> + Boiled and roasted meats had been served up with poultry, different kinds + of fish, omelets and pancakes. + </p> + <p> + The debate had turned upon fishery and smuggling, and the best means of + fooling the coast-guardsmen, who, as we all know, are the sworn enemies of + honest seafarers. + </p> + <p> + Upstairs, at the grand table, old circumnavigators went so far as to + relate droll stories, in the vernacular. + </p> + <p> + But the wind was raging altogether too strong; for the windows shook with + a terrible clatter, and the man telling the tale had hurriedly ended to go + and see to his smack. + </p> + <p> + Then another went on: “When I was bo's'n's mate aboard of the <i>Zenobie</i>, + a-lying at Aden, and a-doing the duty of a corporal of marines, by the + same token, you ought to ha' seen the ostridge feather traders a-trying to + scramble up over the side. [<i>Imitating the broken talk</i>] 'Bon-joo, + cap'n! we're not thiefs—we're honest merchants'—Honest, my + eye! with a sweep of the bucket, a purtending to draw some water up, I + sent 'em all flying back an oar's length. 'Honest merchants, are ye,' says + I, 'then send us up a bunch of honest feathers first—with a hard + dollar or two in the core of it, d'ye see, and then I'll believe in your + honesty!' Why, I could ha' made my fortun' out of them beggars, if I + hadn't been born and brought up honest myself, and but a sucking-dove in + wisdom, saying nothing of my having a sweetheart at Toulon in the + millinery line, who could have used any quantity of feathers——” + </p> + <p> + Ha! here's one of Yann's little brothers, a future Iceland fisherman, with + a fresh pink face and bright eyes, who is suddenly taken ill from having + drunk too much cider. So little Laumec has to be carried off, which cuts + short the story of the milliner and the feathers. + </p> + <p> + The wind wailed in the chimney like an evil spirit in torment; with + fearful strength, it shook the whole house on its stone foundation. + </p> + <p> + “It strikes me the wind is stirred up, acos we're enjoying of ourselves,” + said the pilot cousin. + </p> + <p> + “No, it's the sea that's wrathy,” corrected Yann, smiling at Gaud, + “because I'd promised I'd be wedded to <i>her</i>.” + </p> + <p> + A strange languor seemed to envelop them both; they spoke to one another + in a low voice, apart, in the midst of the general gaiety. Yann, knowing + thoroughly the effect of wine, did not drink at all. Now and then he + turned dull too, thinking of Sylvestre. It was an understood thing that + there was to be no dancing, on account of him and of Gaud's dead father. + </p> + <p> + It was the dessert now; the singing would soon begin. But first there were + the prayers to say, for the dead of the family; this form is never + omitted, at all wedding-feasts, and is a solemn duty. So when old Gaos + rose and uncovered his white head, there was a dead silence around. + </p> + <p> + “This,” said he, “is for Guillaume Gaos, my father.” Making the sign of + the cross, he began the Lord's prayer in Latin: “<i>Pater noster, qui es + in coelis, sanctificetur nomen tumm</i>——” + </p> + <p> + The silence included all, even to the joyful little ones downstairs, and + every voice was repeating in an undertone the same eternal words. + </p> + <p> + “This is for Yves and Jean Gaos, my two brothers, who were lost in the Sea + of Iceland. This is for Pierre Gaos, my son, shipwrecked aboard the <i>Zelie</i>.” + When all the dead Gaoses had had their prayers, he turned towards + grandmother Moan, saying, “This one is for Sylvestre Moan.” + </p> + <p> + Yann wept as he recited another prayer. + </p> + <p> + “<i>Sed libera nos a malo. Amen</i>!” + </p> + <p> + Then the songs began; sea-songs learned in the navy, on the forecastle, + where we all know there are rare good vocalists. + </p> + <p> + “<i>Un noble corps, pas moins que celui des Zouaves</i>,” etc. + </p> + <p> + A noble and a gallant lad The Zouave is, we know, But, capping him for + bravery, The sailor stands, I trow. Hurrah, hurrah! long life to him, + Whose glory never can grow dim! + </p> + <p> + This was sung by one of the bride's supporters, in a feeling tone that + went to the soul; and the chorus was taken up by other fine, manly voices. + </p> + <p> + But the newly wedded pair seemed to listen as from a distance. When they + looked at one another, their eyes shone with dulled brilliance, like that + of transparently shaded lamps. They spoke in even a lower voice, and still + held each other's hands. Gaud bent her head, too, gradually overcome by a + vast, delightful terror, before her master. + </p> + <p> + The pilot cousin went around the table, serving out a wine of his own; he + had brought it with much care, hugging and patting the bottle, which ought + not to be shaken, he said. He told the story of it. One day out fishing + they saw a cask a-floating; it was too big to haul on board, so they had + stove in the head and filled all the pots and pans they had, with most of + its contents. It was impossible to take all, so they had signalled to + other pilots and fishers, and all the sails in sight had flocked round the + flotsam. + </p> + <p> + “And I know more than one old sobersides who was gloriously topheavy when + we got back to Pors-Even at night!” he chuckled liquorishly. + </p> + <p> + The wind still went on with its fearful din. + </p> + <p> + Downstairs the children were dancing in rings; except some of the + youngest, sent to bed; but the others, who were romping about, led by + little Fantec (Francis) and Laumec (Guillaume), wanted to go and play + outside. Every minute they were opening the door and letting in furious + gusts, which blew out the candles. + </p> + <p> + The pilot cousin went on with his story. Forty bottles had fallen to his + lot, he said. He begged them all to say nothing about it, because of “<i>Monsieur + le Commissaire de l'Inscription Maritime</i>,” who would surely make a + fuss over the undeclared find. + </p> + <p> + “But, d'ye see,” he went on, “it sarved the lubbers right to heave over + such a vallyble cask or let it 'scape the lashings, for it's superior + quality, with sartinly more jinywine grape-juice in it than in all the + wine-merchants' cellars of Paimpol. Goodness knows whence it came—this + here castaway liquor.” + </p> + <p> + It was very strong and rich in colour, dashed with sea-water, and had the + flavour of cod-pickle, but in spite of that, relishable; and several + bottles were emptied. + </p> + <p> + Some heads began to spin; the Babel of voices became more confused, and + the lads kissed the lasses less surreptitiously. + </p> + <p> + The songs joyously continued; but the winds would not moderate, and the + seamen exchanged tokens of apprehension about the bad weather increasing. + </p> + <p> + The sinister clamour without was indeed worse than ever. It had become one + continuous howl, deep and threatening, as if a thousand mad creatures were + yelling with full throats and out-stretched necks. + </p> + <p> + One might imagine heavy sea-guns shooting out their deafening boom in the + distance, but that was only the sea hammering the coast of Ploubazlanec on + all points; undoubtedly it did not appear contented, and Gaud felt her + heart shrink at this dismal music, which no one had ordered for their + wedding-feast. + </p> + <p> + Towards midnight, during a calm, Yann, who had risen softly, beckoned his + wife to come to speak with him. + </p> + <p> + It was to go home. She blushed, filled with shame, and confused at having + left her seat so promptly. She said it would be impolite to go away + directly and leave the others. + </p> + <p> + “Not a bit on it,” replied Yann, “my father allows it; we may go,” and + away he carried her. + </p> + <p> + They hurried away stealthily. Outside they found themselves in the cold, + the bitter wind, and the miserable, agitated night. They began to run + hand-in-hand. + </p> + <p> + From the height of the cliff-path, one could imagine, without seeing it, + the furious open sea, whence arose all this hubbub. They ran along, the + wind cutting their faces, both bowed before the angry gusts, and obliged + to put their hands over their mouths to cover their breathing, which the + wind had completely taken away at first. + </p> + <p> + He held her up by the waist at the outset, to keep her dress from trailing + on the ground, and her fine new shoes from being spoiled in the water, + which streamed about their feet, and next he held her round the neck, too, + and continued to run on still faster. He could hardly realize that he + loved her so much! To think that she was now twenty-three and he nearly + twenty-eight; that they might have been married two years ago, and as + happy then as to-night! + </p> + <p> + At last they arrived at home, that poor lodging, with its damp flooring + and moss-grown roof. They lit the candle, which the wind blew out twice. + </p> + <p> + Old grandam Moan, who had been taken home before the singing began, was + there. She had been sleeping for the last two hours in her bunk, the flaps + of which were shut. They drew near with respect and peeped through the + fretwork of her press, to bid her good-night, if by chance she were not + asleep. But they only perceived her still venerable face and closed eyes; + she slept, or she feigned to do so, not to disturb them. + </p> + <p> + They felt they were alone then. Both trembled as they clasped hands. He + bent forward to kiss her lips; but Gaud turned them aside, through + ignorance of that kind of kiss; and as chastely as on the evening of their + betrothal, she pressed hers to Yann's cheek, which was chilled, almost + frozen, by the wind. + </p> + <p> + It was bitterly cold in their poor, low-roofed cottage. If Gaud had only + remained rich, what happiness she would have felt in arranging a pretty + room, not like this one on the bare ground! She was scarcely yet used to + these rugged granite walls, and the rough look of all things around; but + her Yann was there now, and by his presence everything was changed and + transfigured. She saw only her husband. Their lips met now; no turning + aside. Still standing with their arms intertwined tightly to draw + themselves together, they remained dumb, in the perfect ecstasy of a + never-ending kiss. Their fluttering breath commingled, and both quivered + as if in a burning fever. They seemed without power to tear themselves + apart, and knew nothing and desired nothing beyond that long kiss of + consecrated love. + </p> + <p> + She drew herself away, suddenly agitated. “Nay, Yann! Granny Yvonne might + see us,” she faltered. + </p> + <p> + But he, with a smile, sought his wife's lips again and fastened his own + upon them, like a thirsty man whose cup of fresh water had been taken from + him. + </p> + <p> + The movement they had made broke the charm of delightful hesitation. Yann, + who, at the first, was going to kneel to her as before a saint, felt + himself fired again. He glanced stealthily towards the old oaken bunk, + irritated at being so close to the old woman, and seeking some way not to + be spied upon, but ever without breaking away from those exquisite lips. + </p> + <p> + He stretched forth his arm behind him, and with the back of his hand + dashed out the light, as if the wind had done it. Then he snatched her up + in his arms. Still holding her close, with his mouth continually pressed + to hers, he seemed like a wild lion with his teeth embedded in his prey. + For her part she gave herself up entirely, to that body and soul seizure + that was imperious and without possible resistance, even though it + remained soft as a great all-comprising embrace. + </p> + <p> + Around them, for their wedding hymn, the same invisible orchestra, played + on——“Hoo-ooh-hoo!” At times the wind bellowed out in its deep + noise, with a <i>tremolo</i> of rage; and again repeated its threats, as + if with refined cruelty, in low sustained tones, flute-like as the hoot of + an owl. + </p> + <p> + The broad, fathomless grave of all sailors lay nigh to them, restless and + ravenous, drumming against the cliffs with its muffled boom. + </p> + <p> + One night or another Yann would have to be caught in that maw, and battle + with it in the midst of the terror of ice as well. Both knew this plainly. + </p> + <p> + But what mattered that now to them on land, sheltered from the sea's + futile fury. In their poor gloomy cottage, over which tempest rushed, they + scorned all that was hostile, intoxicated and delightfully fortified + against the whole by the eternal magic of love. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0044" id="link2HCH0044"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VIII—THE BLISSFUL WEEK + </h2> + <p> + For six days they were husband and wife. In this time of leave-taking the + preparations for the Iceland season occupied everybody. The women heaped + up the salt for the pickle in the holds of the vessels; the men saw to the + masts and rigging. Yann's mother and sisters worked from morning till + night at the making of the sou'westers and oilskin waterproofs. + </p> + <p> + The weather was dull, and the sea, forefeeling the approach of the + equinoctial gales, was restless and heaving. + </p> + <p> + Gaud went through these inexorable preparations with agony; counting the + fleeting hours of the day, and looking forward to the night, when the work + was over, and she would have her Yann to herself. + </p> + <p> + Would he leave her every year in this way? + </p> + <p> + She hoped to be able to keep him back, but she did not dare to speak to + him about this wish as yet. He loved her passionately, too; he never had + known anything like this affection before; it was such a fresh, trusting + tenderness that the same caresses and fondlings always seemed as if novel + and unknown heretofore; and their intoxication of love continued to + increase, and never seemed—never was satiated. + </p> + <p> + What charmed and surprised her in her mate was his tenderness and + boyishness. This the Yann in love, whom she had sometimes seen at Paimpol + most contemptuous towards the girls. On the contrary, to her he always + maintained that kindly courtesy that seemed natural to him, and she adored + that beautiful smile that came to him whenever their eyes met. Among these + simple folk there exists the feeling of absolute respect for the dignity + of the wife; there is an ocean between her and the sweetheart. Gaud was + essentially the wife. She was sorely troubled in her happiness, however, + for it seemed something too unhoped for, as unstable as a joyful dream. + Besides, would this love be lasting in Yann? She remembered sometimes his + former flames, his fancies and different love adventures, and then she + grew fearful. Would he always cherish that infinite tenderness and sweet + respect for her? + </p> + <p> + Six days of a wedded life, for such a love as theirs, was nothing; only a + fevered instalment taken from the married life term, which might be so + long before them yet! They had scarcely had leisure to be together at all + and understand that they really belonged to one another. All their plans + of life together, of peaceful joy, and settling down, was forcedly put off + till the fisherman's return. + </p> + <p> + No! at any price she would stop him from going to this dreadful Iceland + another year! But how should she manage? And what could they do for a + livelihood, being both so poor? Then again he so dearly loved the sea. But + in spite of all, she would try and keep him home another season; she would + use all her power, intelligence, and heart to do so. Was she to be the + wife of an Icelander, to watch each spring-tide approach with sadness, and + pass the whole summer in painful anxiety? no, now that she loved him, + above everything that she could imagine, she felt seized with an immense + terror at the thought of years to come thus robbed of the better part. + </p> + <p> + They had one spring day together—only one. It was the day before the + sailing; all the stores had been shipped, and Yann remained the whole day + with her. They strolled along, arm-in-arm, through the lanes, like + sweethearts again, very close to one another, murmuring a thousand tender + things. The good folk smiled, as they saw them pass, saying: + </p> + <p> + “It's Gaud, with long Yann from Pors-Even. They were married only t'other + day!” + </p> + <p> + This last day was really spring. It was strange and wonderful to behold + this universal serenity. Not a single cloud marred the lately flecked sky. + The wind did not blow anywhere. The sea had become quite tranquil, and was + of a pale, even blue tint. The sun shone with glaring white brilliancy, + and the rough Breton land seemed bathed in its light, as in a rare, + delicate ether; it seemed to brighten and revive even in the utmost + distance. The air had a delicious, balmy scent, as of summer itself, and + seemed as if it were always going to remain so, and never know any more + gloomy, thunderous days. The capes and bays over which the changeful + shadows of the clouds no longer passed, were outlined in strong steady + lines in the sunlight, and appeared to rest also in the long-during calm. + All this made their loving festival sweeter and longer drawn out. The + early flowers already appeared: primroses, and frail, scentless violets + grew along the hedgerows. + </p> + <p> + When Gaud asked: “How long then are you going to love me, Yann?” + </p> + <p> + He answered, surprisedly, looking at her full in the face with his frank + eyes: “Why, for ever, Gaud.” + </p> + <p> + That word, spoken so simply by his fierce lips, seemed to have its true + sense of eternity. + </p> + <p> + She leaned on his arm. In the enchantment of her realized dream, she + pressed close to him, always anxious, feeling that he was as flighty as a + wild sea-bird. To-morrow he would take his soaring on the open sea. And it + was too late now, she could do nothing to stop him. + </p> + <p> + From the cliff-paths where they wandered, they could see the whole of this + sea-bound country; which seems almost treeless, strewn with low, stunted + bush and boulders. Here and there fishers' huts were scattered over the + rocks, their high battered thatches made green by the cropping up of new + mosses; and in the extreme distance, the sea, like a boundless + transparency, stretched out in a never-ending horizon, which seemed to + encircle everything. + </p> + <p> + She enjoyed telling him about all the wonderful things she had seen in + Paris, but he was very contemptuous, and was not interested. + </p> + <p> + “It's so far from the coast,” said he, “and there is so much land between, + that it must be unhealthy. So many houses and so many people, too, about! + There must be lots of ills and ails in those big towns; no, I shouldn't + like to live there, certain sure!” + </p> + <p> + She smiled, surprised to see this giant so simple a fellow. + </p> + <p> + Sometimes they came across hollows where trees grew and seemed to defy the + winds. There was no view here, only dead leaves scattered beneath their + feet and chilly dampness; the narrow way, bordered on both sides by green + reeds, seemed very dismal under the shadow of the branches; hemmed in by + the walls of some dark, lonely hamlet, rotting with old age, and + slumbering in this hollow. + </p> + <p> + A crucifix arose inevitably before them, among the dead branches, with its + colossal image of Our Saviour in weather-worn wood, its features wrung + with His endless agony. + </p> + <p> + Then the pathway rose again, and they found themselves commanding the view + of immense horizons—and breathed the bracing air of sea-heights once + more. + </p> + <p> + He, to match her, spoke of Iceland, its pale, nightless summers and sun + that never set. Gaud did not understand and asked him to explain. + </p> + <p> + “The sun goes all round,” said he, waving his arm in the direction of the + distant circle of the blue waters. “It always remains very low, because it + has no strength to rise; at midnight, it drags a bit through the water, + but soon gets up and begins its journey round again. Sometimes the moon + appears too, at the other side of the sky; then they move together, and + you can't very well tell one from t'other, for they are much alike in that + queer country.” + </p> + <p> + To see the sun at midnight! How very far off Iceland must be for such + marvels to happen! And the fjords? Gaud had read that word several times + written among the names of the dead in the chapel of the shipwrecked, and + it seemed to portend some grisly thing. + </p> + <p> + “The fjords,” said Yann, “they are not broad bays, like Paimpol, for + instance; only they are surrounded by high mountains—so high that + they seem endless, because of the clouds upon their tops. It's a sorry + country, I can tell you, darling. Nothing but stones. The people of + Iceland know of no such things as trees. In the middle of August, when our + fishery is over, it's quite time to return, for the nights begin again + then, and they lengthen out very quickly; the sun falls below the earth + without being able to get up, and that night lasts all the winter through. + Talking of night,” he continued, “there's a little burying-ground on the + coast in one of the fjords, for Paimpol men who have died during the + season or went down at sea; it's consecrated earth, just like at + Pors-Even, and the dead have wooden crosses just like ours here, with + their names painted on them. The two Goazdious from Ploubazlanec lie + there, and Guillaume Moan, Sylvestre's grandfather.” + </p> + <p> + She could almost see the little churchyard at the foot of the solitary + capes, under the pale rose-coloured light of those never-ending days, and + she thought of those distant dead, under the ice and dark winding sheets + of the long night-like winters. + </p> + <p> + “Do you fish the whole time?” she asked, “without ever stopping?” + </p> + <p> + “The whole time, though we somehow get on with work on deck, for the sea + isn't always fine out there. Well! of course we're dead beat when the + night comes, but it gives a man an appetite—bless you, dearest, we + regularly gobble down our meals.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you never feel sick of it?” + </p> + <p> + “Never,” returned he, with an air of unshaken faith which pained her; “on + deck, on the open sea, the time never seems long to a man—never!” + </p> + <p> + She hung her head, feeling sadder than ever, and more and more vanquished + by her only enemy, the sea. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_PART5" id="link2H_PART5"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + PART V — THE SECOND WEDDING + </h2> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0045" id="link2HCH0045"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER I—THE START + </h2> + <p> + After the spring day they had enjoyed, the falling night brought back the + impression of winter, and they returned to dine before their fire, which + was flaming with new branches. It was their last meal together; but they + had some hours yet, and were not saddened. + </p> + <p> + After dinner, they recovered the sweet impression of spring again, out on + the Pors-Even road; for the air was calm, almost genial, and the twilight + still lingered over the land. + </p> + <p> + They went to see the family—for Yann to bid good-bye—and + returned early, as they wished to rise with break of day. + </p> + <p> + The next morning the quay of Paimpol was crowded with people. The + departures for Iceland had begun the day before, and with each tide there + was a fresh fleet off. On this particular morning, fifteen vessels were to + start with the <i>Leopoldine</i>, and the wives or mothers of the sailors + were all present at the getting under sail. + </p> + <p> + Gaud, who was now the wife of an Icelander, was much surprised to find + herself among them all, and brought thither for the same fateful purpose. + Her position seemed to have become so intensified within the last few + days, that she had barely had time to realize things as they were; gliding + irresistibly down an incline, she had arrived at this inexorable + conclusion that she must bear up for the present, and do as the others + did, who were accustomed to it. + </p> + <p> + She never before had been present at these farewells; hence all was new to + her. Among these women was none like her, and she felt her difference and + isolation. Her past life, as a lady, was still remembered, and caused her + to be set aside as one apart. + </p> + <p> + The weather had remained fine on this parting-day; but out at sea a heavy + swell came from the west, foretelling wind, and the sea, lying in wait for + these new adventurers, burst its crests afar. + </p> + <p> + Around Gaud stood many good-looking wives like her, and touching, with + their eyes big with tears; others were thoughtless and lively; these had + no heart or were not in love. Old women, threatened nearly by death, wept + as they clung to their sons; sweethearts kissed each other; half-maudlin + sailors sang to cheer themselves up, while others went on board with + gloomy looks as to their execution. + </p> + <p> + Many sad incidents could be marked; there were poor luckless fellows who + had signed their contracts unconsciously, when in liquor in the grog-shop, + and they had to be dragged on board by force; their own wives helping the + gendarmes. Others, noted for their great strength, had been drugged in + drink beforehand, and were carried like corpses on stretchers, and flung + down in the forecastles. + </p> + <p> + Gaud was frightened by all this; what companions were these for her Yann? + and what a fearful thing was this Iceland, to inspire men with such terror + of it? + </p> + <p> + Yet there were sailors who smiled, and were happy; who, doubtless, like + Yann, loved the untrammelled life and hard fishing work; those were the + sound, able seamen, who had fine noble countenances; if they were + unmarried they went off recklessly, merely casting a last look on the + lasses; and if they were married, they kissed their wives and little ones, + with fervent sadness and deep hopefulness as to returning home all the + richer. + </p> + <p> + Gaud was a little comforted when she saw that all the <i>Leopoldines</i> + were of the latter class, forming really a picked crew. + </p> + <p> + The vessels set off two by two, or four by four, drawn out by the tugs. As + soon as they moved the sailors raised their caps and, full-voiced, struck + up the hymn to the Virgin: “<i>Salut, Etoile-de-la-Mer</i>!” (All Hail! + Star of the Sea!), while on the quay, the women waved their hands for a + last farewell, and tears fell upon the lace strings of the caps. + </p> + <p> + As soon as the <i>Leopoldine</i> started, Gaud quickly set off towards the + house of the Gaoses. After an hour and a half's walk along the coast, + through the familiar paths of Ploubazlanec, she arrived there, at the very + land's end, within the home of her new family. + </p> + <p> + The <i>Leopoldine</i> was to cast anchor off Pors-Even before starting + definitely in the evening, so the married pair had made a last appointment + here. Yann came to land in the yawl, and stayed another three hours with + her to bid her good-bye on firm land. The weather was still beautiful and + spring-like, and the sky serene. + </p> + <p> + They walked out on the high road arm-in-arm, and it reminded them of their + walk the day before. They strolled on towards Paimpol without any apparent + object in view, and soon came to their own house, as if unconsciously + drawn there; they entered together for the last time. Grandam Moan was + quite amazed at seeing them together again. + </p> + <p> + Yann left many injunctions with Gaud concerning several of his things in + his wardrobe, especially about his fine wedding clothes; she was to take + them out occasionally and air them in the sun, and so on. On board ship + the sailors learn all these household-like matters; but Gaud was amused to + hear it. Her husband might have been sure, though, that all his things + would be kept and attended to, with loving care. + </p> + <p> + But all these matters were very secondary for them; they spoke of them + only to have something to talk about, and to hide their real feelings. + They went on speaking in low, soft tones, as if fearing to frighten away + the moments that remained, and so make time flit by more swiftly still. + Their conversation was as a thing that had inexorably to come to an end; + and the most insignificant things that they said seemed, on this day, to + become wondrous, mysterious, and important. + </p> + <p> + At the very last moment Yann caught up his wife in his arms, and without + saying a word, they were enfolded in a long and silent embrace. + </p> + <p> + He embarked; the gray sails were unfurled and spread out to the light wind + that rose from the west. He, whom she still could distinguish, waved his + cap in a particular way agreed on between them. And with her figure + outlined against the sea, she gazed for a long, long time upon her + departing love. + </p> + <p> + That tiny, human-shaped speck, appearing black against the bluish gray of + the waters, was still her husband, even though already it became vague and + indefinable, lost in the distance, where persistent sight becomes baffled, + and can see no longer. + </p> + <p> + As the <i>Leopoldine</i> faded out of vision, Gaud, as if drawn by a + magnet, followed the pathway all along the cliffs till she had to stop, + because the land came to an end; she sat down at the foot of a tall cross, + which rises amidst the gorse and stones. As it was rather an elevated + spot, the sea, as seen from there, appeared to be rimmed, as in a bowl, + and the <i>Leopoldine</i>, now a mere point, appeared sailing up the + incline of that immense circle. The water rose in great slow undulations, + like the upheavals of a submarine combat going on somewhere beyond the + horizon; but over the great space where Yann still was, all dwelt calm. + </p> + <p> + Gaud still gazed at the ship, trying to fix its image well in her brain, + so that she might recognise it again from afar, when she returned to the + same place to watch for its home-coming. + </p> + <p> + Great swells now rolled in from the west, one after another, without + cessation, renewing their useless efforts, and ever breaking over the same + rocks, foaming over the same places, to wash the same stones. The stifled + fury of the sea appeared strange, considering the absolute calmness of the + air and sky; it was as if the bed of the sea were too full and would + overflow and swallow up the strand. + </p> + <p> + The <i>Leopoldine</i> had grown smaller and smaller, and was lost in the + distance. Doubtless the under-tow carried her along, for she moved swiftly + and yet the evening breezes were very faint. Now she was only a tiny, gray + touch, and would soon reach the extreme horizon of all visible things, and + enter those infinite regions, whence darkness was beginning to come. + </p> + <p> + Going on seven o'clock, night closed, and the boat had disappeared. Gaud + returned home, feeling withal rather brave, notwithstanding the tears that + uncontainably fell. What a difference it would have been, and what still + greater pain, if he had gone away, as in the two preceding years, without + even a good-bye! While now everything was softened and bettered between + them. He was really her own Yann, and she knew herself to be so truly + loved, notwithstanding this separation, that, as she returned home alone, + she felt at least consoled by the thought of the delightful waiting for + that “soon again!” to be realized to which they had pledged themselves for + the autumn. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0046" id="link2HCH0046"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER II—THE FIRST OF THE FLEET + </h2> + <p> + The summer passed sadly, being hot and uneventful. She watched anxiously + for the first yellowed leaves, and the first gathering of the swallows, + and blooming of the chrysanthemums. She wrote to Yann several times by the + boats bound for Rykawyk, and by the government cruisers, but one never can + be sure of such letters reaching their destination. + </p> + <p> + Towards the end of July, she received a letter from him, however. He told + her that his health was good, that the fishing season promised to be + excellent, and that he already had 1500 fish for his share. From beginning + to end, it was written in the simple conventional way of all these + Icelanders' home letters. Men educated like Yann completely ignore how to + write the thousand things they think, feel, or fancy. Being more + cultivated than he, Gaud could understand this, and read between the lines + that deep affection that was unexpressed. Several times in the four-paged + letter, he called her by the title of “wife,” as if happy in repeating the + word. And the address above: “<i>A Madame Marguerite Gaos, maison Moan, en + Ploubazlanec</i>”—she was “Madame Marguerite Gaos” since so short a + time. + </p> + <p> + She worked hard during these summer months. The ladies of Paimpol had, at + first, hardly believed in her talent as an amateur dressmaker, saying her + hands were too fine-ladyish; but they soon perceived that she excelled in + making dresses that were very nice-fitting, so she had become almost a + famous dressmaker. + </p> + <p> + She spent all her earnings in embellishing their home against his return. + The wardrobe and old-shelved beds were all done up afresh, waxed over, and + bright new fastenings put on; she had put a pane of glass into their + little window towards the sea, and hung up a pair of curtains; and she had + bought a new counterpane for the winter, with new chairs and table. + </p> + <p> + She had kept the money untouched that her Yann had left her, carefully put + by in a small Chinese box, to show him when he returned. During the summer + evenings, by the fading light, she sat out before the cottage door with + Granny Moan, whose head was much better in the warm weather, and knitted a + fine new blue wool jersey for her Yann; round the collar and cuffs were + wonderful open-work embroideries. Granny Yvonne had been a very clever + knitter in her day, and now she taught all she knew to Gaud. The work took + a great deal of wool; for it had to be a large jersey to fit Yann. + </p> + <p> + But soon, especially in the evenings, the shortening of the days could be + perceived. Some plants, which had put forth all their blossoms in July, + began to look yellow and dying, and the violet scabious by the wayside + bloomed for the second time, smaller now, and longer-stalked; the last + days of August drew nigh, and the first return-ship from Iceland hove in + sight one evening at the cape of Pors-Even. The feast of the returners + began. + </p> + <p> + Every one pressed in a crowd on the cliff to welcome it. Which one was it? + </p> + <p> + It was the <i>Samuel-Azenide</i>, always the first to return. + </p> + <p> + “Surely,” said Yann's old father, “the <i>Leopoldine</i> won't be long + now; I know how 'tis out yonder: when one of 'em begins to start homeward, + the others can't hang back in any peace.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0047" id="link2HCH0047"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER III—ALL BUT TWO + </h2> + <p> + The Icelanders were all returning now. Two ships came in the second day, + four the next, and twelve during the following week. And, all through the + country, joy returned with them, and there was happiness for the wives and + mothers; and junkets in the taverns where the beautiful barmaids of + Paimpol served out drink to the fishers. + </p> + <p> + The <i>Leopoldine</i> was among the belated; there were yet another ten + expected. They would not be long now, and allowing a week's delay so as + not to be disappointed, Gaud waited in happy, passionate joy for Yann, + keeping their home bright and tidy for his return. When everything was in + good order there was nothing left for her to do, and besides she could + think of nothing else but her husband in her impatience. + </p> + <p> + Three more ships appeared; then another five. There were only two lacking + now. + </p> + <p> + “Come, come,” they said to her cheerily, “this year the <i>Leopoldine</i> + and the <i>Marie-Jeanne</i> will be the last, to pick up all the brooms + fallen overboard from the other craft.” + </p> + <p> + Gaud laughed also. She was more animated and beautiful than ever, in her + great joy of expectancy. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0048" id="link2HCH0048"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IV—STILL AT SEA + </h2> + <p> + But the days succeeded one another without result. She still dressed + herself every day, and with a joyful look, went down to the harbour to + gossip with the other wives. She said that this delay was but natural; was + it not the same event every year? These were such safe boats, and had such + capital sailors. + </p> + <p> + But when at home alone, at night, a nervous, anxious shiver of anguish + would run through her whole frame. + </p> + <p> + Was it right to be frightened already? Was there even a single reason to + be so? But she began to tremble at the mere idea of grounds for being + afraid. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0049" id="link2HCH0049"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER V—SHARING THE DREAD + </h2> + <h3> + The tenth of September came. How swiftly the days flew by! + </h3> + <p> + One morning, a true autumn morning, with cold mist falling over the earth, + in the rising sun, she sat under the porch of the chapel of the + shipwrecked mariners, where the widows go to pray, with eyes fixed and + glassy, throbbing temples tightened as by an iron hand. + </p> + <p> + These sad morning mists had begun two days before, and on this particular + day Gaud had awakened with a still more bitter uneasiness, caused by the + forecast of advancing winter. Why did this day, this hour, this very + moment, seem to her more painful than the preceding? Often ships are + delayed a fortnight, even a month, for that matter. + </p> + <p> + But surely there was something different about this particular morning, + for she had come to-day for the first time to sit in the porch of this + chapel and read the names of the dead sailors, perished in their prime. + </p> + <p> + “In memory of GAOS, YVON, Lost at sea Near the Norden-Fjord.” + </p> + <p> + Like a great shudder, a gust of wind rose from the sea, and at the same + time something fell like rain upon the roof above. It was only the dead + leaves though; many were blown in at the porch; the old wind-tossed trees + of the graveyard were losing their foliage in this rising gale, and winter + was marching nearer. + </p> + <p> + “Lost at sea, Near the Norden-Fjord, In the storm of the 4th and 5th of + August, 1880.” + </p> + <p> + She read mechanically under the arch of the doorway; her eyes sought to + pierce the distance over the sea. That morning it was untraceable under + the gray mist, and a dragging drapery of clouds overhung the horizon like + a mourning veil. + </p> + <p> + Another gust of wind, and other leaves danced in in whirls. A stronger + gust still, as if the western storm that had strewn those dead over the + sea, wished to deface the very inscriptions that remembered their names to + the living. + </p> + <p> + Gaud looked with involuntary persistency at an empty space upon the wall + that seemed to yawn expectant. By a terrible impression she was pursued, + the thought of a fresh slab which might soon, perhaps, be placed there, + with another name which she did not even dare to think of in such a spot. + </p> + <p> + She felt cold, and remained seated on the granite bench, her head + reclining against the stone wall. + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + . . . “near the Norden-Fjord, In the storm of the 4th and 5th of August, + At the age of 23 years, <i>Requiescat in pace</i>!” + </p> + <p> + Then Iceland loomed up before her, with its little cemetery lighted up + from below the sea-line by the midnight sun. Suddenly in the same empty + space on the wall, with horrifying clearness she saw the fresh slab she + was thinking of; a clear white one, with a skull and cross-bones, and in a + flash of foresight, a name—the worshipped name of “Yann Gaos!” Then + she suddenly and fearfully drew herself up straight and stiff, with a + hoarse, wild cry in her throat like a mad creature. + </p> + <p> + Outside the gray mist of the dawn fell over the land, and the dead leaves + were again blown dancingly into the porch. + </p> + <p> + Steps on the footpath? Somebody was coming? She rose and quickly smoothed + down her cap and composed her face. Nearer drew the steps. She assumed the + air of one who might be there by chance; for, above all, she did not wish + to appear yet, like the widow of a shipwrecked mariner. + </p> + <p> + It happened to be Fante Floury, the wife of the second mate of the <i>Leopoldine</i>. + She understood immediately what Gaud was doing there; it was useless to + dissemble with her. At first each woman stood speechless before the other. + They were angry and almost hated each other for having met with a like + sentiment of apprehension. + </p> + <p> + “All the men of Treguier and Saint Brieuc have been back this week,” said + Fante at last, in a pitiless, muffled, half-irritated voice. + </p> + <p> + She carried a blessed taper in her hand, to offer up a prayer. Gaud did + not wish yet to resort to that extreme resource of despairing wives. Yet + silently she entered the chapel behind Fante, and they knelt down together + side by side, like two sisters. + </p> + <p> + To the “Star of the Sea” they offered ardent imploring prayers, with their + whole soul in them. A sound of sobbing was alone heard, as their rapid + tears swiftly fell upon the floor. They rose together, more confident and + softened. Fante held up Gaud, who staggered, and taking her in her arms, + kissed her. + </p> + <p> + Wiping their eyes, and smoothing their dishevelled hair, they brushed off + the salt dust from the flagstones, soiling their gowns, and they went away + in opposite directions, without another word. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0050" id="link2HCH0050"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VI—ALL BUT ONE + </h2> + <p> + This end of September was like another summer, only a little less lively. + The weather was so beautiful, that had it not been for the dead leaves + that fell upon the roads, one might have thought that June had come back + again. Husbands and sweethearts had all returned, and everywhere was the + joy of a second spring-time of love. + </p> + <p> + At last, one day, one of the missing ships was signalled. Which one was + it? + </p> + <p> + The groups of speechless and anxious women had rapidly formed on the + cliff. Gaud, pale and trembling, was there, by the side of her Yann's + father. + </p> + <p> + “I'm almost sure,” said the old fisher, “I'm almost sure it's them! A red + rail and a topsail that clews up—it's very like them anyhow. What do + you make it, Gaud? + </p> + <p> + “No, it isn't,” he went on, with sudden discouragement; “we've made a + mistake again, the boom isn't the same, and ours has a jigger sail. Well, + well, it isn't our boat this time, it's only the <i>Marie-Jeanne</i>. + Never mind, my lass, surely they'll not be long now.” + </p> + <p> + But day followed day, and night succeeded night, with uninterrupted + serenity. + </p> + <p> + Gaud continued to dress every day like a poor crazed woman, always in fear + of being taken for the widow of a shipwrecked sailor, feeling exasperated + when others looked furtively and compassionately at her, and glancing + aside so that she might not meet those glances that froze her very blood. + </p> + <p> + She had fallen into the habit of going in the early morning right to the + end of the headland, on the high cliffs of Pors-Even, passing behind + Yann's old home, so as not to be seen by his mother or little sisters. She + went to the extreme point of the Ploubazlanec land, which is outlined in + the shape of a reindeer's horn upon the gray waters of the channel, and + sat there all day long at the foot of the lonely cross, which rises high + above the immense waste of the ocean. There are many of these crosses + hereabout; they are set up on the most advanced cliffs of the seabound + land, as if to implore mercy and to calm that restless mysterious power + that draws men away, never to give them back, and in preference retains + the bravest and noblest. + </p> + <p> + Around this cross stretches the ever-green waste, strewn with short + rushes. At this great height the sea air was very pure; it scarcely + retained the briny odour of the weeds, but was perfumed with all the + exquisite ripeness of September flowers. + </p> + <p> + Far away, all the bays and inlets of the coast were firmly outlined, + rising one above another; the land of Brittany terminated in ragged edges, + which spread out far into the tranquil surface. + </p> + <p> + Near at hand the reefs were numerous, but out beyond nothing broke its + polished mirror, from which arose a soft, caressing ripple, light and + intensified from the depths of its many bays. Its horizon seemed so calm, + and its depths so soft! The great blue sepulchre of many Gaoses hid its + inscrutable mystery, while the breezes, faint as human breath, wafted to + and fro the perfume of the stunted gorse, which had bloomed again in the + lastest autumn sun. + </p> + <p> + At regular hours the sea retreated, and great spaces were left uncovered + everywhere, as if the Channel was slowly drying up; then with the same + lazy slowness, the waters rose again, and continued their everlasting + coming and going, without any heed of the dead. + </p> + <p> + At the foot of the cross, Gaud remained, surrounded by these tranquil + mysteries, gazing ever before her, until the night fell and she could see + no more. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0051" id="link2HCH0051"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VII—THE MOURNER'S VISION + </h2> + <p> + September had passed. The sorrowing wife took scarcely any nourishment, + and could no longer sleep. She remained at home now, crouching low with + her hands between her knees, her head thrown back and resting against the + wall behind. What was the good of getting up or going to bed now? When she + was thoroughly exhausted she threw herself, dressed, upon her bed. + Otherwise she remained in the same position, chilled and benumbed; in her + quiescent state, only her teeth chattered with the cold; she had that + continual impression of a band of iron round her brows; her cheeks looked + wasted; her mouth was dry, with a feverish taste, and at times a painful + hoarse cry rose from her throat, and was repeated in spasms, while her + head beat backward against the granite wall. Or else she called Yann by + his name in a low, tender voice, as if he were quiet close to her, + whispering words of love to her. + </p> + <p> + Sometimes she occupied her brain with thoughts of quite insignificant + things; for instance, she amused herself by watching the shadow of the + china Virgin lengthen slowly over the high woodwork of the bed, as the sun + went down. And then the agonized thoughts returned more horrible, and her + wailing cry broke out again as she beat her head against the wall. + </p> + <p> + All the hours of the day passed, and all the hours of evening, and of + night, and then the hours of the morning. When she reckoned the time he + ought to have been back, she was seized with a still greater terror; she + wished to forget all dates and the very names of the days. + </p> + <p> + Usually there is some information concerning the wrecks off Iceland; those + who return have seen the tragedy from afar, or else have found some + wreckage or bodies, or have an indication to guess the rest. But of the <i>Leopoldine</i> + nothing had been seen, and nothing was known. The <i>Marie-Jeanne</i> men, + the last to have seen her, on the 2d of August, said that she was to have + gone on fishing farther towards the north, and, beyond that, the secret + was unfathomable. + </p> + <p> + Waiting, always waiting, and knowing nothing! When would the time come + when she need wait no longer? She did not even know that; and, now, she + almost wished that it might be soon. + </p> + <p> + Oh! if he were dead; let them at least have pity enough to tell her so! + Oh! to see her darling, as he was at this very moment, that is, what was + left him! If only the much-implored Virgin, or some other power, would do + her the blessing to show her, by second-sight, her beloved! either living + and working hard to return a rich man, or else as a corpse, surrendered by + the sea, so that she might at least know a certainty. + </p> + <p> + Sometimes she was seized with the thought of a ship appearing suddenly + upon the horizon; the <i>Leopoldine</i> hastening home. Then she would + suddenly make an irreflected movement to rise, and rush to look out at the + ocean, to see whether it were true. + </p> + <p> + But she would fall back. Alas! where was this <i>Leopoldine</i> now? Where + could she be? Out afar, at that awful distance of Iceland, forsaken, + crushed, and lost. + </p> + <p> + All ended by a never-fading vision appearing to her—an empty, + sea-tossed wreck, slowly and gently rocked by the silent gray and + rose-streaked sea; almost with soft mockery, in the midst of the vast calm + of deadened waters. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0052" id="link2HCH0052"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VIII—THE FALSE ALARM + </h2> + <h3> + Two o'clock in the morning. + </h3> + <p> + It was at night, especially, that she kept attentive to approaching + footsteps; at the slightest rumour or unaccustomed noise her temples + vibrated; by dint of being strained to outward things, they had become + fearfully sensitive. + </p> + <p> + Two o'clock in the morning. On this night as on others, with her hands + clasped and her eyes wide open in the dark, she listened to the wind, + sweeping in never-ending tumult over the heath. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly a man's footsteps hurried along the path! At this hour who would + pass now? She drew herself up, stirred to the very soul, her heart ceasing + to beat. + </p> + <p> + Some one stopped before the door, and came up the small stone steps. + </p> + <p> + He!—O God!—he! Some one had knocked—it could be no other + than he! She was up now, barefooted; she, so feeble for the last few days, + had sprung up as nimbly as a kitten, with her arms outstretched to wind + round her darling. Of course the <i>Leopoldine</i> had arrived at night, + and anchored in Pors-Even Bay, and he had rushed home; she arranged all + this in her mind with the swiftness of lightning. She tore the flesh off + her fingers in her excitement to draw the bolt, which had stuck. + </p> + <p> + “Eh?” + </p> + <p> + She slowly moved backward, as if crushed, her head falling on her bosom. + Her beautiful insane dream was over. She just could grasp that it was not + her husband, her Yann, and that nothing of him, substantial or spiritual, + had passed through the air; she felt plunged again into her deep abyss, to + the lowest depths of her terrible despair. + </p> + <p> + Poor Fantec, for it was he, stammered many excuses, his wife was very ill, + and their child was stifling in its cot, suddenly attacked with a + malignant sore throat; so he had run over to beg for assistance on the + road to fetch the doctor from Paimpol. + </p> + <p> + What did all this matter to her? She had gone mad in her own distress, and + could give no thoughts to the troubles of others. Huddled on a bench, she + remained before him with fixed, glazed eyes, like a dead woman's; without + listening to him or even answering at random or looking at him. What to + her was the speech the man was making? + </p> + <p> + He understood it all; and guessed why the door had been opened so quickly + to him, and feeling pity for the pain he had unwittingly caused, he + stammered out an excuse. + </p> + <p> + “Just so; he never had ought to have disturbed her—her in + particular.” + </p> + <p> + “I!” ejaculated Gaud, quickly, “why should I not be disturbed + particularly, Fantec?” + </p> + <p> + Life had suddenly come back to her; for she did not wish to appear in + despair before others. Besides, she pitied him now; she dressed to + accompany him, and found the strength to go and see to his little child. + </p> + <p> + At four o'clock in the morning, when she returned to throw herself on the + bed, sleep subdued her, for she was tired out. But that moment of + excessive joy had left an impression on her mind, which, in spite of all, + was permanent; she awoke soon with a shudder, rising a little and + partially recollecting—she knew not what. News had come to her + concerning her Yann. In the midst of her confusion of ideas, she sought + rapidly in her mind what it could be, but there was nothing save Fantec's + interruption. + </p> + <p> + For the second time she fell back into her terrible abyss, nothing changed + in her morbid, hopeless waiting. + </p> + <p> + Yet in that short, hopeful moment she had felt him so near to her, that it + was as if his spirit had floated over the sea unto her, what is called a + foretoken (<i>pressigne</i>) in Breton land; and she listened still more + attentively to the steps outside, trusting that some one might come to her + to speak of him. + </p> + <p> + Just as the day broke Yann's father entered. He took off his cap, and + pushed back his splendid white locks, which were in curls like Yann's, and + sat down by Gaud's bedside. + </p> + <p> + His heart ached fully, too, for Yann, his tall, handsome Yann, was his + first-born, his favourite and his pride; but he did not despair yet. He + comforted Gaud in his own blunt, affectionate way; to begin with, those + who had last returned from Iceland spoke of the increasing dense fogs that + might well have delayed the vessel; and then, too, an idea struck him; + they might possibly have stopped at the distant Faroe Islands on their + homeward course, whence letters were so long in travelling. This had + happened to him once forty years ago, and his own poor dead and gone + mother had had a mass said for his soul. The <i>Leopoldine</i> was such a + good boat, next to new, and her crew were such able-bodied seamen. + </p> + <p> + Granny Moan stood by them shaking her head; the distress of her + granddaughter had almost given her back her own strength and reason; she + tidied up the place, glancing from time to time at the faded portrait of + Sylvestre, which hung upon the granite wall with its anchor emblems and + mourning-wreath of black bead-work. Ever since the sea had robbed her of + her own last offspring she believed no longer in safe returns; she only + prayed through fear, bearing Heaven a grudge in the bottom of her heart. + </p> + <p> + But Gaud listened eagerly to these consoling reasonings; her large sunken + eyes looked with deep tenderness out upon this old sire, who so much + resembled her beloved one; merely to have him near her was like a hostage + against death having taken the younger Gaos; and she felt reassured, + nearer to her Yann. Her tears fell softly and silently, and she repeated + again her passionate prayers to the “Star of the Sea.” + </p> + <p> + A delay out at those islands to repair damages was a very likely event. + She rose and brushed her hair, and then dressed as if she might fairly + expect him. All then was not lost, if a seaman, his own father, did not + yet despair. And for a few days, she resumed looking out for him again. + </p> + <p> + Autumn at last arrived, a late autumn too, its gloomy evenings making all + things appear dark in the old cottage, and all the land looked sombre, + too. + </p> + <p> + The very daylight seemed crepuscular; immeasurable clouds, passing slowly + overhead, darkened the whole country at broad noon. The wind blew + constantly with the sound of a great cathedral organ at a distance, but + playing profane, despairing dirges; at other times the noise came close to + the door, like the howling of wild beasts. + </p> + <p> + She had grown pale, aye, blanched, and bent more than ever, as if old age + had already touched her with its featherless wing. Often did she finger + the wedding clothes of her Yann, folding and unfolding them again and + again like some maniac, especially one of his blue woolen jerseys, which + still had preserved his shape; when she threw it gently on the table, it + fell with the shoulders and chest well defined; so she placed it by itself + on a shelf of their wardrobe, and left it there, so that it might for ever + rest unaltered. + </p> + <p> + Every night the cold mists sank upon the land, as she gazed over the + depressing heath through her little window, and watched the paltry puffs + of white smoke arise from the chimneys of other cottages scattered here + and there on all sides. There the husbands had returned, like wandering + birds driven home by the frost. Before their blazing hearths the evenings + passed, cosy and warm; for the spring-time of love had begun again in this + land of North Sea fishermen. + </p> + <p> + Still clinging to the thought of those islands where he might perhaps have + lingered, she was buoyed up by a kind hope and expected him home any day. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0053" id="link2HCH0053"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IX—WEDDED TO THE SEA + </h2> + <p> + But he never returned. One August night, out off gloomy Iceland, mingled + with the furious clamour of the sea, his wedding with the sea was + performed. It had been his nurse; it had rocked him in his babyhood, and + had afterward made him big and strong; then, in his superb manhood, it had + taken him back again for itself alone. Profoundest mystery had surrounded + this unhallowed union. While it went on, dark curtains hung pall-like over + it as if to conceal the ceremony, and the ghoul howled in an awful + deafening voice to stifle his cries. He, thinking of Gaud, his sole, + darling wife, had battled with giant strength against this deathly rival, + until he at last surrendered, with a deep death-cry like the roar of a + dying bull, through a mouth already filled with water; and his arms were + stretched apart and stiffened for ever. + </p> + <p> + All those he had invited in days of old were present at his wedding. All + except Sylvestre, who had gone to sleep in the enchanted gardens far, far + away, at the other side of the earth. + </p> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of An Iceland Fisherman, by Pierre Loti + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK AN ICELAND FISHERMAN *** + +***** This file should be named 2196-h.htm or 2196-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/1/9/2196/ + +Produced by Dagny; John Bickers and David Widger + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution. + + + +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase “Project +Gutenberg”), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at +http://gutenberg.org/license). + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. “Project Gutenberg” is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation (“the Foundation” + or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase “Project Gutenberg” appears, or with which the phrase “Project +Gutenberg” is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase “Project Gutenberg” associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +“Plain Vanilla ASCII” or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original “Plain Vanilla ASCII” or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, “Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation.” + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +“Defects,” such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the “Right +of Replacement or Refund” described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation web page at http://www.pglaf.org. + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at +http://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. + +The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at +809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email +business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact +information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official +page at http://pglaf.org + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit http://pglaf.org + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. +To donate, please visit: http://pglaf.org/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart is the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + http://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. + + +</pre> + </body> +</html> |