As the Leopoldine faded out of vision, Gaud,
as if drawn by a magnet, followed the pathway all
along the cliffs till she had to stop, because the
land came to an end; she sat down at the foot of a
tall cross, which rises amidst the gorse and stones.
As it was rather an elevated spot, the sea, as seen
from there, appeared to be rimmed, as in a bowl, and
the Leopoldine, now a mere point, appeared sailing
up the incline of that immense circle. The water
rose in great slow undulations, like the upheavals
of a submarine combat going on somewhere beyond the
horizon; but over the great space where Yann still
was, all dwelt calm.
Gaud still gazed at the ship, trying to fix its image
well in her brain, so that she might recognise it
again from afar, when she returned to the same place
to watch for its home-coming.
Great swells now rolled in from the west, one after
another, without cessation, renewing their useless
efforts, and ever breaking over the same rocks, foaming
over the same places, to wash the same stones.
The stifled fury of the sea appeared strange, considering
the absolute calmness of the air and sky; it was as
if the bed of the sea were too full and would overflow
and swallow up the strand.
The Leopoldine had grown smaller and smaller,
and was lost in the distance. Doubtless the under-tow
carried her along, for she moved swiftly and yet the
evening breezes were very faint. Now she was only
a tiny, gray touch, and would soon reach the extreme
horizon of all visible things, and enter those infinite
regions, whence darkness was beginning to come.
Going on seven o’clock, night closed, and the
boat had disappeared. Gaud returned home, feeling
withal rather brave, notwithstanding the tears that
uncontainably fell. What a difference it would
have been, and what still greater pain, if he had
gone away, as in the two preceding years, without
even a good-bye! While now everything was softened
and bettered between them. He was really her
own Yann, and she knew herself to be so truly loved,
notwithstanding this separation, that, as she returned
home alone, she felt at least consoled by the thought
of the delightful waiting for that “soon again!”
to be realized to which they had pledged themselves
for the autumn.
The summer passed sadly, being hot and uneventful.
She watched anxiously for the first yellowed leaves,
and the first gathering of the swallows, and blooming
of the chrysanthemums. She wrote to Yann several
times by the boats bound for Rykawyk, and by the government
cruisers, but one never can be sure of such letters
reaching their destination.
