said Marie, "one thing only absorbs
us,--Louis's return."

"I don't dispute that," replied Clerbaut. "But--in short--this
purchase of wood--"

"And you shall be at the wedding," replied Jean Cornbutte,
interrupting the merchant, and shaking his hand as if he would
crush it.

"This purchase of wood--"

"And with all our friends, landsmen and seamen, Clerbaut. I have
already informed everybody, and I shall invite the whole crew of
the ship."

"And shall we go and await them on the pier?" asked Marie.

"Indeed we will," replied Jean Cornbutte. "We will defile, two by
two, with the violins at the head."

Jean Cornbutte's invited guests soon arrived. Though it was very
early, not a single one failed to appear. All congratulated the
honest old sailor whom they loved. Meanwhile Marie, kneeling
down, changed her prayers to God into thanksgivings. She soon
returned, lovely and decked out, to the company; and all the
women kissed her on the check, while the men vigorously grasped
her by the hand. Then Jean Cornbutte gave the signal of
departure.

It was a curious sight to see this joyous group taking its way,
at sunrise, towards the sea. The news of the ship's arrival had
spread through the port, and many heads, in nightcaps, appeared
at the windows and at the half-opened doors. Sincere compliments
and pleasant nods came from every side.

The party reached the pier in the midst of a concert of praise
and blessings. The weather was magnificent, and the sun seemed to
take part in the festivity. A fresh north wind made the waves
foam; and some fishing-smacks, their sails trimmed for leaving
port, streaked the sea with their rapid wakes between the
breakwaters.

The two piers of Dunkirk stretch far out into the sea. The
wedding-party occupied the whole width of the northern pier, and
soon reached a small house situated at its extremity, inhabited
by the harbour-master. The wind freshened, and the "Jeune-Hardie"
ran swiftly under her topsails, mizzen, brigantine, gallant, and
royal. There was evidently rejoicing on board as well as on land.
Jean Cornbutte, spy-glass in hand, responded merrily to the
questions of his friends.

"See my ship!" he cried; "clean and steady as if she had been
rigged at Dunkirk! Not a bit of damage done,--not a rope
wanting!"

"Do you see your son, the captain?" asked one.

"No, not yet. Why, he's at his business!"

"Why doesn't he run up his flag?" asked Clerbaut.

"I scarcely know,