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Updated: May 7, 2025
I looked at him and recognized that argument would be useless. But still I said, "It will be a loss to history, Monsieur Le Bihan." "All the worse for history, then," said the enlightened Mayor of St. Gildas. We had sauntered back to the gravel pit while speaking. The men of Bannalec were carrying the bones of the English soldiers toward the St.
They came across from the island of Groix three shiploads, and they stormed the fort and sacked St. Julien yonder, and they started to burn St. Gildas you can see the marks of their bullets on my house yet; but the men of Bannalec and the men of Lorient fell upon them with pike and scythe and blunderbuss, and those who did not run away lie there below in the gravel pit now thirty-eight of them."
"My clever Bannalec maid," said I, "what is good for a stirrup-cup at the Groix Inn?" "Schist?" she inquired in Breton. "With a dash of red wine, then," I replied. She brought the delicious Quimperle cider, and I poured a little Bordeaux into it. Marianne watched me with laughing black eyes. "What makes your cheeks so red, Marianne?" I asked. "Has Jean Marie been here?"
Gildas cemetery, on the cliffs to the east, where already a knot of white-coiffed women stood in attitudes of prayer; and I saw the somber robe of a priest among the crosses of the little graveyard. "They were thieves and assassins; they are dead now," muttered Max Fortin. "Respect the dead," repeated the Mayor of St. Gildas, looking after the Bannalec men.
"I have heard my grandfather speak of the terrible English regiment, the 27th Foot, which landed and stormed the fort up there," said one of the Bannalec men. "Oh!" said I; "then these are the bones of English soldiers?" "Yes," said the men of Bannalec.
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