In the long run though, this became tiresome, an unceasing
fury, which always promised a worse visitation.
The fury of men and beasts soon falls and dies away;
but the fury of lifeless things, without cause or
object, is as mysterious as life and death, and has
to be borne for very long.
“Jean Francois de Nantes;
Jean Francois,
Jean Francois!”
Through their pale lips still came the refrain of
the old song, but as from a speaking automaton, unconsciously
taken up from time to time. The excess of motion
and uproar had made them dumb, and despite their youth
their smiles were insincere, and their teeth chattered
with cold; their eyes, half-closed under their raw,
throbbing eyelids, remained glazed in terror.
Lashed to the helm, like marble caryatides, they only
moved their numbed blue hands, almost without thinking,
by sheer muscular habit. With their hair streaming
and mouths contracted, they had become changed, all
the primitive wildness in man appearing again.
They could not see one another truly, but still were
aware of being companioned. In the instants of
greatest danger, each time that a fresh mountain of
water rose behind them, came to overtower them, and
crash horribly against their boat, one of their hands
would move as if involuntarily, to form the sign of
the cross. They no more thought of Gaud than of
any other woman, or any marrying. The travail
was lasting too long, and they had no thoughts left.
The intoxication of noise, cold, and fatigue drowned
all in their brain. They were merely two pillars
of stiffened human flesh, held up by the helm; two
strong beasts, cowering, but determined they would
not be overwhelmed.
In Brittany, towards the end of September, on an already
chilly day, Gaud was walking alone across the common
of Ploubazlanec, in the direction of Pors-Even.
The Icelanders had returned a month back, except two,
which had perished in that June gale. But the
Marie had held her own, and Yann and all her
crew were peacefully at home.
Gaud felt very troubled at the idea of going to Yann’s
house. She had seen him once since the return
from Iceland, when they had all gone together to see
poor little Sylvestre off to the navy. They accompanied
him to the coaching-house, he blubbering a little and
his grandmother weeping, and he had started to join
the fleet at Brest.
Yann, who had come also to bid good-bye to his little
friend, had feigned to look aside when Gaud looked
at him, and as there were many people round the coach
to see the other sailors off, and parents assembled
to say good-bye, the pair had not a chance to speak.
So, at last, she had formed a strong resolution, and
rather timidly wended her way towards the Gaos’s
home.
Her father had formerly had mutual interests with
Yann’s father (complicated business, which,
with peasants and fishers alike, seems to be endless),
and owed him a hundred francs for the sale of a boat,
which had just taken place in a raffle.
