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Updated: May 24, 2025
Yann had just come from his shipowner's where he had received his wages for the last summer's fishery, fifteen hundred francs, which, according to the custom of the family, he carried to his mother. The catch had been a good one, and he returned well pleased. Nearing Ploubazlanec, he spied a crowd by the side of the road.
The intoxication of noise, cold, and fatigue drowned all in their brain. They were merely two pillars of stiffened human flesh, held up by the helm; two strong beasts, cowering, but determined they would not be overwhelmed. In Brittany, towards the end of September, on an already chilly day, Gaud was walking alone across the common of Ploubazlanec, in the direction of Pors-Even.
"As for me," said Larvoer, of the Reine-Berthe, "I've been told of the death of the grandson of old Yvonne Moan, of Ploubazlanec who was serving his time in the navy, you know, in the Chinese squadron a very great pity." On hearing this, all the men of La Marie turned towards Yann to learn if he already knew anything of the sad news.
He was a girlish boy, brought up in respect for holy things, by an old grandmother, the widow of a fisherman in the village of Ploubazlanec. As a tiny child he used to go every day with her to kneel and tell his beads over his mother's grave. From the churchyard on the cliff the grey waters of the Channel, wherein his father had disappeared in a shipwreck, could be seen in the far distance.
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