Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: June 25, 2025
Then, slowly and more slowly yet loomed still another wonder; a high, majestic, pink profile it was a promontory of gloomy Iceland. Yann's wedding with the sea? Sylvestre was still thinking of it after resuming his fishing without daring to say anything more.
Granny Yvonne was there and following, too, panting a little, but something like happy, hanging on the arm of an old uncle of Yann's, who was paying her old-fashioned compliments. She wore a grand new cap, bought for the occasion, and her tiny shawl, which had been dyed a third time, and black, because of Sylvestre.
Yann's usual manner had returned, as if his great grief had not continued; watchful and active, quick at his fishing work, a happy-go-lucky temper, like one who had no troubles; communicative at times, but very rarely and always carrying his head up high, with his old indifferent, domineering look.
What kind of a fellow was this Yann, with his contempt for women, his scorn for money, and all desirable things? At first she remained fixed to the spot, sick with giddiness, as things swam around her. One intolerably painful thought suddenly struck her like a flash of lightning Yann's comrades, the Icelanders, were waiting for him below in the market-place.
She was taken upstairs, up a newly-built wooden staircase, to see the room above, which was the glory of the home. She remembered the history of its construction; it was after the finding of a derelict vessel in the channel, which luck had befallen Yann's father and his cousin the pilot.
Word Of The Day
Others Looking