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Updated: June 28, 2025
I cannot refrain from telling you about Sylvestre's funeral, which I conducted myself in Singapore. We had thrown enough other dead into the Sea of China, during the early days of the home voyage; and as the Malay land was quite near, we decided to keep his remains a few hours longer; to bury him fittingly. It was very early in the morning, on account of the terrible sun.
But they had not succeeded because of Jean Moan, the deserter, an elder brother of Sylvestre's, whom no one in the family ever mentioned now, but who still lived somewhere over in America, thus depriving his younger brother of the military exemption. Moreover, it had been objected that she had her small pension, allowed to the widows of sailors, and the Admiralty could not deem her poor enough.
As Matheline hesitated in her answer for Sylvestre's brave deeds were too recent to be forgotten Pol Bihan came to her assistance and gayly cried, "You must wait, Sylvestre, my saviour, until your leg and eye are healed." "But," cried Sylvestre Ker, "it is for your sakes that I am one-eyed and lame." "That is true," said Bihan.
They gave her an order to go and take, as the heiress, the thirty francs that came from the sale of Sylvestre's bag; and then the letters, the certificates, and the box containing the military medal. She took the whole parcel awkwardly with open fingers, unable to find pockets to put them in.
The tears were rolling down Sylvestre's face. "My friends, we must not do this! You shall not do it!" He hurled away, with twice his natural strength, one who put out a hand. "No, sirs!" cried Raoul, "you shall not do it! I come from Honoré! Touch her who dares!" He drew a weapon. "Monsieur Innerarity," said 'Polyte, "who is Monsieur Honoré Grandissime?
As he passed over the threshold he touched his hat, and then his eyes fell and dwelt upon Sylvestre's portrait in its small black-beaded frame. He went slowly up to it, as to a tomb. Gaud remained standing with her hands resting on the table. He looked around him; she watched him take a silent inspection of their poverty. Very poor looked this cottage of the two forsaken women.
In Yann's letter Sylvestre got news of Marie Gaos, his little sweetheart; in Sylvestre's, Yann read all Granny Moan's funny stories, for she had not her like for amusing the absent ones you will remember; and the last paragraph concerning him came up: the "word of greeting to young Gaos."
She always seemed to know just what she was going to say and do. And Mrs. Weston's girl, Alice. Reckon I'd scrap with her right frequent. She was still " Dog-gone it! Where was he drifting to? Sylvestre's sheep were five days crossing the reserve. Smith reported a small fire north of the lookout. The Ainslee boys put the fire out. It hadn't done any great damage.
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