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Updated: May 22, 2025
At the foot of the cross Gaud remained, surrounded by these tranquil mysteries, gazing ever before her until the night fell and she could see no more. September had passed. The sorrowing wife took scarcely any nourishment, and could no longer sleep. She remained at home now, crouching low with her hands between her knees, her head thrown back and resting against the wall behind.
Summer advanced, and, at the end of August, with the first autumnal mists, the Icelanders came home. For the last three months the two lone women had lived together at Ploubazlanec in the Moan's cottage. Gaud filled a daughter's place in the poor birthplace of so many dead sailors.
In one of their last chats, before his departure, Sylvestre had explained to her, in his own way, his friend's shyness. "D'ye see, Gaud, he's like this, he won't marry anybody, that's his idea; he only loves the sea, and one day even, in fun, he said he had promised to be wedded to it."
"Come, come," they said to her cheerily, "this year the Léopoldine and the Marie-Jeanne will be the last, to pick up all the brooms fallen overboard from the other craft." Gaud laughed also. She was more animated and beautiful than ever, in her great joy of expectancy. But the days succeeded one another without result.
The passage was not meet for talking of serious matters in. After these first phrases, choking, Gaud remained speechless, feeling her head spin, and without ideas. They still advanced towards the street door; he seemed so anxious to get away, and she was so determined not to be shaken off. Outside the wind blew noisily and the sky was black.
When Gaud asked: "How long then are you going to love me, Yann?" He answered, surprisedly, looking at her full in the face with his frank eyes: "Why, for ever, Gaud." That word, spoken so simply by his fierce lips, seemed to have its true sense of eternity. She leaned on his arm.
"No show of force, no gaud of office!" He rode unarmored, on his gray horse. The banner that was always borne with him "Yea, carry it still, until he demands it!" We were a bare dozen, but when we entered San Domingo one might think that Don Francisco de Bobadilla feared an army, for he had all his soldiers drawn up to greet us! The rest of the population were in coigns, gazing.
So it was on account of Yann's childishness that Gaud had been languishing, forsaken for two long years, and had longed to die. At first Yann laughed, but now he looked at Gaud with kind eyes, questioning deeply. Would she forgive him? He felt such remorse for having made her suffer. Would she forgive him? "It's my temper that does it, Gaud," said he. "At home with my folks, it's the same thing.
So Gaud would tell her chit-chat she had heard in town, or spoke of the people she had met on her way home, talking of things that were quite indifferent to her, as indeed all things were now; and stopping in the midst of her stories when she saw the poor old woman was falling asleep. There seemed nothing lively or youthful around her, whose fresh youth yearned for youth.
He went over to Loguivy, Mademoiselle Gaud, to buy some lobster baskets; as you know, lobster-catching is our main winter fishery." She dreamily lengthened out her call, although conscious that it was too long already, and feeling a tug at her heart at the idea that she would not see him after all. "A well-conducted young man like Yann what can he be doing? Surely he's not at the inn.
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