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Updated: June 20, 2025
But Gaud listened eagerly to these consoling reasonings; her large sunken eyes looked with deep tenderness out upon this old sire, who so much resembled her beloved one; merely to have him near her was like a hostage against death having taken the younger Gaos; and she felt reassured, nearer to her Yann.
When the fright was over, the men began to laugh; they had recognised each other. "La Marie, ahoy! how are ye, lads?" "Halloa! Gaos, Laumec, Guermeur!"
But she stopped again with a sharp pain at her heart. "Gaos" again that name, engraved upon one of the slabs erected in memory of those who die at sea. She read this inscription: "To the Memory of GAOS, JEAN-LOUIS, Aged 24 years; seaman on board the Marguerite. Disappeared off Iceland, August 3d, 1877. May he rest in peace!" Iceland always Iceland!
What a wonderful change had come over her since then; and what a difference there was between that hubbub and the present tranquility! How quiet and empty Paimpol seemed to-night in the warm long twilight of May, which kept her still at her window alone, lulled in her love's young dream! Their second meeting was at a wedding-feast. Young Gaos had been chosen to offer her his arm.
But surely there was something different about this particular morning, for she had come to-day for the first time to sit in the porch of this chapel and read the names of the dead sailors, perished in their prime. "In memory of GAOS, YVON, Lost at sea Near the Norden-Fjord." Like a great shudder, a gust of wind rose from the sea, and at the same time something fell like rain upon the roof above.
"Gaos, the son, sends you his kind remembrance; he has renewed his articles with Captain Guermeur of the Marie, and the departure for Iceland was rather early this year, for they set sail on the first of the month, two days before our poor Gaud's trouble, and he don't know of it yet.
"You ought to let me carry the money to him, father," she had said. "I shall be pleased to see Marie Gaos. I never have been so far in Ploubazlanec, either, and I shall enjoy the long walk." To speak the truth, she was curiously anxious to know Yann's family, which she might some day enter; and she also wanted to see the house and village.
For the last few days she had been expecting this visit, surmising truly that old Gaos would send his son to terminate the business concerning the sale of the boat, as he did not care to come into Paimpol himself. She determined then that she would go straight to him, and, unlike other girls, speak out frankly, to have her conscience clear on the subject.
But it was not Yann, though a man much like him; notwithstanding his white hair, as tall and as straight. It was old father Gaos returning from fishing. After he had saluted her and asked her the object of her visit, he signed her receipt for her which was rather a long operation, as his hand was not very steady, he explained.
On each side of the doorway was a granite seat for the widows and mothers; and this shady spot, irregularly shaped like a grotto, was guarded by an old image of the Virgin, coloured red, with large staring eyes, looking most like Cybele the first goddess of the earth. "Gaos!" Again!
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