Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: June 20, 2025
This is for Pierre Gaos, my son, shipwrecked aboard the Zelie." When all the dead Gaoses had had their prayers, he turned towards grandmother Moan, saying, "This one is for Sylvestre Moan." Yann wept as he recited another prayer. "Sed libera nos a malo. Amen!" Then the songs began; sea-songs learned in the navy, on the forecastle, where we all know there are rare good vocalists.
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.
She often spent her evenings here at the window, like a grand lady. Her father did not approve of her walking with the other girls of her age, who had been her early playmates. And as he left the cafe, and walked up and down, smoking his pipe with old seamen like himself, he was happy to look up at his daughter among her flowers, in his grand house. "Young Gaos!"
At home, she found Granny Moan crouching in a corner with her head held between her hands, sobbing with her childish "he, he!" her hair dishevelled and falling from beneath her cap like thin skeins of gray hemp. "Oh, my kind Gaud! I've just met young Gaos down by Plouherzel as I came back from my wood-gathering; we spoke of our poor lad, of course.
Word Of The Day
Others Looking