And it just happened to be that “Fils Gaos,”
of whom she had heard the Moans speak as a great friend
of Sylvestre’s. On the evening of this
same Pardon, Sylvestre and he, walking arm-in-arm,
had crossed her father and herself, and had stopped
to wish them good-day.
And young Sylvestre had become again to her as a sort
of brother. As they were cousins they had continued
to tutoyer (using thou for you, a sign of familiarity)
each other; true, she had at first hesitated doing
so to this great boy of seventeen, who already wore
a black beard, but as his kind, soft, childish eyes
had hardly changed at all, she recognized him soon
enough to imagine that she had never lost sight of
him.
When he used to come into Paimpol, she kept him to
dinner of an evening; it was without consequence to
her, and he always had a very good appetite, being
on rather short rations at home.
To speak truly, Yann had not been very polite to her
at this first meeting, which took place at the corner
of a tiny gray street, strewn with green branches.
He had raised his hat to her, with a noble though
timid gesture; and after having given her an ever-rapid
glance, turned his eyes away, as if he were vexed
with this meeting and in a hurry to go. A strong
western breeze that had arisen during the procession,
had scattered branches of box everywhere and loaded
the sky with dark gray draperies.
Gaud, in her dreamland of remembrances, saw all this
clearly again; the sad gloaming falling upon the remains
of the Pardon; the sheets strewn with white
flowers floating in the wind along the walls; the noisy
groups of Icelanders, other waifs of the gales and
tempests flocking into the taverns, singing to cheer
themselves under the gloom of the coming rain; and
above all, Gaud remembered the giant standing in front
of her, turning aside as if annoyed, and troubled at
having met her.
What a wonderful change had come over her since then;
and what a difference there was between that hubbub
and the present tranquility! How quiet and empty
Paimpol seemed to-night in the warm long twilight
of May, which kept her still at her window alone, lulled
in her love’s young dream!
Their second meeting was at a wedding-feast.
Young Gaos had been chosen to offer her his arm.
At first she had been rather vexed, not liking the
idea of strolling through the streets with this tall
fellow, whom everybody would stare at, on account
of his excessive height, and who, most probably, would
not know what to speak to her about. Besides,
he really frightened her with his wild, lofty look.
At the appointed hour all were assembled for the wedding
procession save Yann, who had not appeared. Time
passed, yet he did not come, and they talked of giving
up any further waiting for him. Then it was she
discovered that it was for his pleasure, and his alone,
that she had donned her best dress; with any other
of the young men present at the ball, the evening’s
enjoyment would be spoiled.
