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Updated: June 11, 2025
Sylvestre Ker's blood was pouring from the wound in his eye, and his sight was dimmed; but he was generous of heart, and boldly leaped from the top of the promontory. As he fell, his left leg was jammed against a jutting rock and broke, so there he was, lame as well as one-eyed; nevertheless, he dragged Bihan to the shore and asked, "When shall the wedding be?"
"At once. Will you come?" "Not now. I'll gallop over by-and-bye. You are going to the edge of the Kerselec forest?" "Yes; you will hear us calling. Are you coming, Max Fortin? And you, Le Bihan? Good; take the dog-cart."
"But ... they say after a murder one can never laugh, and I wish to laugh always...." "Will I not be there?" replied Bihan. "Some time or other the idiot will certainly seek a quarrel with me, and I will crack his bones by only squeezing him in my arms; you can count upon my strength." "I have heard enough," said Sylvestre Ker to Satan. "And do you still love this Bihan?" "No: I despise him."
No one visited them in the tower except the laughing Matheline, the heiress of the tenant of Coat-Dor and god-daughter of Josserande; and Pol Bihan, son of the successor of Martin Ker as armed keeper of the great door. Both Pol and Matheline often conversed together, and upon what subject do you think? Always of Sylvestre Ker. Was it because they loved him? No.
"See see the stiff blood all over his robe," muttered Le Bihan to Fortin. "He will not speak," said I. "He may be too badly wounded," whispered Le Bihan. "I saw him raise his head," I said, "my wife saw him creep up here." Durand stepped forward and touched the figure. "Speak!" he said. "Speak!" quavered Fortin.
"It just shows," said I, ignoring the mayor's remark, "how easy it is to fix up a train of coincidences so that the result seems to savor of the supernatural. Now, last night my wife imagined that she saw a priest in a mask peer in at her window " Fortin and Le Bihan scrambled hastily from their knees, dropping hammer and nails. "W-h-a-t what's that?" demanded the mayor.
"There was a man," said Le Bihan angrily, "an Englishman, who passed here in a dog-cart on his way to Quimper about an hour ago, and what do you suppose he wished to do?" "Buy the relics?" I asked, smiling. "Exactly the pig!" piped the mayor of St. Gildas. "Jean Marie Tregunc, who found the bones, was standing there where Max Fortin stands, and do you know what he answered?
We have spoken of Matheline's lips, of her throat, and of her smile, but not of her heart; of that we can only say the place where it should have been was nearly empty; so she replied to Bihan, "As much as you will.
"It was written in that scroll that Marie Trevec, of Groix Island, was cursed by the priest she and her descendants," I said, touching Le Bihan on the arm. "There was a Marie Trevec who married an Yves Trevec of St. Gildas " "It is the same," said Le Bihan, looking at me obliquely. "Oh!" said I; "then they were ancestors of my wife." "Do you fear the curse?" asked Le Bihan. "What?" I laughed.
Le Bihan was calling to me from the edge of the pit above, and I handed the belt plate and buttons to the men and climbed the side of the excavation. "Well," said I, trying to prevent Môme from leaping up and licking my face as I emerged from the pit, "I suppose you know what these bones are. What are you going to do with them?"
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