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Updated: June 4, 2025
Jean in a low tone said to his mother: "Look, mother, she is close upon us!" And Mme. Roland uncovered her eyes, blinded with tears. The Lorraine came on, still under the impetus of her swift exit from the harbour, in the brilliant, calm weather. Beausire, with his glass to his eye, called out: "Look out! M. Pierre is at the stern, all alone, plainly to be seen! Look out!"
"Let us go on before they come up with us." For in fact they could see quite near them now Captain Beausire as he came down, backward, so as to give both hands to Mme. Roland; and further up, further off, Roland still letting himself slip, lowering himself on his hams and clinging on with his hands and elbows at the speed of a tortoise, Pierre keeping in front of him to watch his movements.
Thirteen-year-old Edith laughed merrily enough at her sister's perplexity, and said gayly as the lad turned questioningly to her: "Sure, then, beausire, 't is plain to see that you are Southron-born and know not the complexion of a Scottish mist. Yet 't is even as Mary said.
And she replied indifferently: "Indeed. Where are you going?" "To America." "A very find country, they say." And that was all! Really, he was very ill-advised to address her on such a busy day; there were too many people in the cafe. Pierre went down to the sea. As he reached the jetty he descried the Pearl; his father and Beausire were coming in.
Never till his sons came home had M. Roland invited her to join his fishing expeditions, nor had he ever taken his wife; for he liked to put off before daybreak, with his ally, Captain Beausire, a master mariner retired, whom he had first met on the quay at high tides and with whom he had struck up an intimacy, and the old sailor Papagris, known as Jean Bart, in whose charge the boat was left.
Beausire, on the contrary, though short and stout, was as tight as an egg and as hard as a cannon-ball. Mme. Roland had not emptied her glass and was gazing at her son Jean with sparkling eyes; happiness had brought a colour to her cheeks. In him, too, the fulness of joy had now blazed out. It was a settled thing, signed and sealed; he had twenty thousand francs a year.
"You are a man of sense, beausire. Come with me," said he at last. And he, Hereward, and Robert went into an inner room. "Sit down on the settle by me." "It is too great an honor." "Nonsense, man! If I be who I am, I know enough of men to know that I need not be ashamed of having you as bench-fellow. Sit down." Hereward obeyed of course. "Tell me who you are."
Beausire, who always had a flow of compliment, remarked: "Only a woman ever thinks of these refinements." Then turning to Father Roland: "And who was this Marechal, after all? You must have been very intimate with him." The old man, emotional with drink, began to whimper, and in a broken voice he said: "Like a brother, you know.
Captain Beausire, seated between the two women, held the tiller, and he said: "You will see, we shall be close in her way close." And the two oarsmen pulled with all their might to get out as far as possible. Suddenly Roland cried out: "Here she comes! I see her masts and her two funnels! She is coming out of the inner harbour." "Cheerily, lads!" cried Beausire. Mme.
His mother, deeply moved, murmured: "Well said, my boy." But Beausire cried out: "Come, Mme. Rosemilly, speak on behalf of the fair sex." She raised her glass, and in a pretty voice, slightly touched with sadness, she said: "I will pledge you to the memory of M. Marechal." There was a few moments' lull, a pause for decent meditation, as after prayer.
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