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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. This visit of Yann's fell by chance at a convenient hour.
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. Next morning, when the kedges were fished up, the Marie went on her way to Iceland, and Yann's heart, to all appearance, was as free as in his early years.
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.
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. For the second time she fell back into her terrible abyss, nothing changed in her morbid, hopeless waiting. Just as the day broke Yann's father entered.
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.
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.
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. 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.
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.
The blood rushed to her face at the idea of having remained so late. She got up and took her leave. 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.
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. For so long, too, he had mused on Yann's marriage!
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