dreaming of hers,
with a wild desire to weep; her tiny teeth bit her lips and continually
opened and pursed up the deep dimple that outlined the under lip of
her fresh, pure mouth. Her eyes remained fixed on the darkness, seeing
nothing of tangible things.

But, after the ball, why had he not returned? What change had come over
him? Meeting him by chance, he seemed to avoid her, turning aside his
look, which was always fleeting, by the way. She had often debated this
with Sylvestre, who could not understand either.

"But still, he's the lad for you to marry, Gaud," said Sylvestre, "if
your father allowed ye. In the whole country round you'd not find his
like. First, let me tell 'ee, he's a rare good one, though he mayn't
look it. He seldom gets tipsy. He sometimes is stubborn, but is very
pliable for all that. No, I can't tell 'ee how good he is! And such an
A.B. seaman! Every new fishing season the skippers regularly fight to
have him."

She was quite sure of her father's permission, for she never had been
thwarted in any of her whims. And it mattered little to her whether
Yann were rich or not. To begin with, a sailor like him would need but
a little money in advance to attend the classes of the coast navigation
school, and might shortly become a captain whom all shipowners would
gladly intrust with their vessels. It also mattered little to her that
he was such a giant; great strength may become a defect in a woman, but
in a man is not prejudicial to good looks.

Without seeming to care much, she had questioned the girls of the
country round about, who knew all the love stories going; but he had
no recognized engagement with any one, he paid no more attention to one
than another, but roved from right to left, to Lezardrieux as well as to
Paimpol, to all the beauties who cared to receive his address.

One Sunday evening, very late, she had seen him pass under her windows,
in company with one Jeannie Caroff, whom he tucked under his wing very
closely; she was pretty, certainly, but had a very bad reputation. This
had pained Gaud very much indeed. She had been told that he was very
quick-tempered: one night being rather tipsy in a tavern of Paimpol,
where the Icelanders held their revels, he had thrown a great marble
table through a door that they would not open to him. But she forgave
him all that; we all know what sailors are sometimes when the fit takes
them. But if his heart were good, why had he sought one out