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Updated: June 25, 2025
The cure had just finished his dejeuner of fish and an omelette the day being Friday when a carriage rattled down the village street, leaving behind it doorways suddenly occupied by the female population of Yport wiping its hands upon its apron. "It is Francois Morin's carriage from Fecamp," said the Mother Senneville, "with a Parisienne, who has a parasol, if you please."
After these excursions she invariably came back to the castle pale with hunger, but light, alert, a smile on her lips and her eyes sparkling with happiness. The baron on his part was planning great agricultural enterprises. Occasionally, also, he went out to sea with the sailors of Yport.
One day a day of cloud and drizzle, which are common enough at Yport in the early summer he went into the little front room, which the Mother Senneville fondly called her salon, to read the daily office from the cloth-bound book he ever carried in his pocket.
Now she was going to spend the summer on their estate, Les Peuples, in an old family château built on the cliff near Yport; and she was looking forward to the boundless happiness of a free life beside the waves.
"Between us we make a whole man you and I," he said cheerily. "Perhaps we can do something." They went out into the night, the priest locking the door and pausing to hide the key under the mat in the porch. They all keep the house-door key under the mat at Yport.
The large table was set in the courtyard, under the apple trees. Sixty people sat down to table, sailors and peasants. The baroness in the middle, with a priest at either side of her, one from Yport, and the other belonging to "The Poplars."
After breakfast, Madame Adélaïde went to lie down as she had not yet recovered from the fatigue of the journey, and the baron proposed that he and Jeanne should walk to Yport. They set off, going through the hamlet of Etouvent in which was situated Les Peuples, and three peasants saluted them as if they had known them all their lives.
And he wiped the rain from his face. The wind, which blew from a wild north-west, roared against the towering cliffs, and from east and west concentrated itself funnel-wise on the gap where Yport lies. Out seaward there was a queer, ghostly light lying on the face of the waters the storm-light and landsmen rarely see it. For the sea was beaten into unbroken foam.
She waited for her father, who took longer to dress, and then they walked over the dewy plain and through the wood filled with the sweet song of the birds, down to Yport, where they found the vicomte and old Lastique sitting on the capstan of their little vessel. Two sailors helped to start the boat, by putting their shoulders to the sides and pushing with all their might.
It was full daylight when they at length reached the weed-grown steps at the side of the sea-wall, and the smoke was already beginning to rise from the chimneys of Yport. The gale was waning as the day came, but the sea was at its highest, and all the houses facing northward had their wooden shutters up.
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