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Updated: May 29, 2025
His horses responded to his mood, and going down the steep hill which leads into the town of Falaise they shied violently at a heap of stones they had passed sedately a dozen times or more. Jacques de Wissant struck them several cruel blows with the whip he scarcely ever used, and the groom, looking furtively at his master's set face and blazing eyes, felt suddenly afraid.
Omers. He felt a good deal better after this, and went on to Wissant, where he made the usual invocations to Our Lady and St. Ann, and had a safe, swift passage, and immediately upon landing said his last Mass, probably at St. Margaret's Church, in Dover. He never missed a chance of saying Mass if he could, though it was not said daily in his time.
The walls were draped with old Persian shawls, the furniture was of red Chinese lacquer, a set acquired in the East by some Norman sailing man unnumbered years ago, and bought by Claire de Wissant out of her own slender income not long after her marriage. Pale blue and faded yellow silk cushions softened the formal angularity of the wide cane-seated couch and low, square chairs.
A hot haze lay heavily over the great sweep of deep blue waters. It blotted out the low grey line on the horizon which, on the majority of each year's days, reminds the citizens of Falaise how near England is to France. Jacques de Wissant had rejoiced in the entente cordiale, if only because it brought such a stream of tourists to the old seaport town of which he was now Mayor.
But nought had availed him to secure even a semblance of that steadfast, warm affection, that sincere interest and pride in his concerns which is all such a Frenchman as was Jacques de Wissant expects, or indeed desires, of his wedded wife. Had Claire been such a woman, Jacques' own passion for her would soon have dulled into a reasonable, comfortable affection.
Tarnier " and as Jacques de Wissant gave vent to a stifled exclamation of dismay "of course I had to tell Dr. Tarnier! He has most nobly offered to go down into the Neptune alone though in doing so he will run considerable personal risk." Admiral de Saint Vilquier paused a moment, for the quick pace at which his companion was walking made him rather breathless.
If Jacques found that his wife had not gone back to the Pavillon de Wissant, and that there was no news of her there, he would almost certainly come back to the Châlet des Dunes for further information. "No," she said reluctantly, "Claire has not gone back to the Pavillon. I believe that she has gone into the town. She had something important that she wished to do there."
Jacques de Wissant thanked the God of his fathers that Claire had nothing in common with such women as those: he thought he did not need her assurance to know that his honour, in the usual, narrow sense of the phrase, was safe in her hands, but still her strange, imprudent words of half-avowal racked him with jealous and, yes, suspicious pain.
And so, a very few minutes later, Claire de Wissant and Commander Dupré were left alone together alone, that is, save for fifty inquisitive, if kindly, pairs of eyes which saw them from every part of the bay. At last she held out her hand. "Good-bye, then, till to-morrow," she said, her voice so low as to be almost inaudible. "No, not good-bye yet!" he cried imperiously.
She looked so troubled, so so uncomfortable that Jacques de Wissant leapt to the sudden conclusion that the tidings he had been at such pains to bring had already been brought to the Châlet des Dunes. "Ah!" he exclaimed, "then I am too late! Ill news travels fast." "Ill news?" Madeleine repeated affrightedly. "Is anything the matter? Has anything happened to one of the children?
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