The passers-by in the evening down their pathway,
heard the soft murmur of two voices mingling with
the voice of the sea, down below at the foot of the
cliffs. It was a most harmonious music; Gaud’s
sweet, fresh voice alternated with Yann’s, which
had soft, caressing notes in the lower tones.
Their profiles could be clearly distinguished on the
granite wall against which they reclined; Gaud with
her white headgear and slender black-robed figure,
and beside her the broad, square shoulders of her
beloved. Behind and above rose the ragged dome
of the straw thatch, and the darkening, infinite,
and colourless waste of the sea and sky floated over
all.
Finally, they did go in to sit down by the hearth,
whereupon old Yvonne immediately nodded off to sleep,
and did not trouble the two lovers very much.
So they went on communing in a low voice, having to
make up for two years of silence; they had to hurry
on their courtship because it was to last so short
a time.
It was arranged that they were to live with Granny
Moan, who would leave them the cottage in her will;
for the present, they made no alterations in it, for
want of time, and put off their plan for embellishing
their poor lonely home until the fisherman’s
return from Iceland.
One evening Yann amused himself by relating to his
affianced a thousand things she had done, or which
had happened to her since their first meeting; he
even enumerated to her the different dresses she had
had, and the jollifications to which she had been.
She listened in great surprise. How did he know
all this? Who would have thought of a man ever
paying any attention to such matters, and being capable
of remembering so clearly?
But he only smiled at her in a mysterious way, and
went on mentioning other facts to her that she had
altogether forgotten.
She did not interrupt him; nay, she but let him continue,
while an unexpected delicious joy welled up in her
heart; she began, at length, to divine and understand
everything. He, too, had loved—loved
her, through that weary time. She had been his
constant thought, as he was guilelessly confessing.
But, in this case, what had been his reason for repelling
her at first and making her suffer so long?
There always remained this mystery that he had promised
to explain to her—yet still seemed to elude—with
a confused, incomprehensible smile.
One fine day, the loving pair went over to Paimpol,
with Granny Moan, to buy the wedding-dress.
Gaud could very easily have done over one of her former
town-lady’s dresses for the occasion. But
Yann had wanted to make her this present, and she
had not resisted too long the having a dress given
by her betrothed, and paid for by the money he had
earned at his fishing; it seemed as if she were already
his wife by this act.
