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That summer, after wanderings in France, Browning and his sister settled at Audierne, on the extreme westerly point of Brittany, "a delightful, quite unspoiled little fishing town," with the ocean in front and green lanes and hills behind. It was in every way an eventful year.
His letters had missed them he had written on leaving Paris, saying that his plans were indefinite, but he would write them definitely soon. After he came to Audierne it seemed impossible to write. How could he? No, let the American journalist do it. Better so. Better himself in the worst light, with the full penalty, than his own confession in itself an insult. So it had gone on.
"Douarnenez, for Audierne, Brittany," was the legend written in Meyerbeer's note-book. And after that: "Journey twenty hours change at Rennes, Redon, and Quimpere." "Too far. I've enough for now," said Meyerbeer, chuckling, as he walked away. "But I'd give five hundred dollars to know who Zoug-Zoug is. I'll make another try." So he held his sensation back for a while yet.
Look on the map for the most westerly point of Bretagne and of the mainland of Europe there is niched Audierne, a delightful quite unspoiled little fishing-town, with the open ocean in front, and beautiful woods, hills and dales, meadows and lanes behind and around, sprinkled here and there with villages each with its fine old Church.
"Audierne Bay! and the wind blowing half a gale from the sou'-west!" ejaculated the skipper, with a note of something approaching to dismay. "Yes, sir, Audierne Bay," repeated the master. "It is only there that we could possibly have come within sight of the land at this hour of the day. Perhaps you would like me to bring up the chart, Captain Vavassour." "Yes; pray do so," answered the skipper.
The journalist had found out Zoug-Zoug at last, and Ian Belward had talked with the manager of the menagerie. Andree shuddered and put the letter in her pocket. Now she understood why she had shrunk from Gaston that first night and those first days in Audierne: that strange sixth sense, divination vague, helpless prescience. And here, suddenly, she shrank again, but with a different thought.
"Douarnenez, for Audierne, Brittany," was the legend written in Meyerbeer's note-book. And after that: "Journey twenty hours change at Rennes, Redon, and Quimpere." "Too far. I've enough for now," said Meyerbeer, chuckling, as he walked away. "But I'd give five hundred dollars to know who Zoug-Zoug is. I'll make another try." So he held his sensation back for a while yet.
Scarcely had the thin smoke mingled with the incense-laden air when Christian pushed open the door. The two men looked their last upon the rigid face dimly illuminated by the light of the wavering candles, and then turned to leave the ship. The carriage was waiting for them on the quay, and Christian noticed that the two men who had been watching him since his arrival at Audierne were on the box.
She was about to speak again, but the guide suddenly said: "You must get away. There'll be a change of wind and a bad cross-current soon." In a few minutes the two were bearing out none too soon, for those pumas crowded up once or twice within a fathom of their deck, devilish and devouring. But they wore away with a capricious current, and down a tossing sea made for Audierne.
She was about to speak again, but the guide suddenly said: "You must get away. There'll be a change of wind and a bad cross-current soon." In a few minutes the two were bearing out none too soon, for those pumas crowded up once or twice within a fathom of their deck, devilish and devouring. But they wore away with a capricious current, and down a tossing sea made for Audierne.
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