agreed on but one point: the cask must have been wreckage from the ship
in distress, signaled Sunday evening. The English ships often carried to
Grandport such cargoes of liquor and fine wines.

Little by little the day faded and the people were withdrawn into
shadow. But La Queue remained absorbed, tormented by an idea which he no
longer expressed. He stopped, he listened a last time to Delphin, whom
they were carrying along, and who was repeating in his sing-song voice:
"Little casks--little casks--little casks--if you want some, there are
more!"

III

That night the weather changed completely. When Coqueville awoke the
following day an unclouded sun was shining; the sea spread out without
a wrinkle, like a great piece of green satin. And it was warm, one of
those pale glows of autumn.

First of the village, La Queue had risen, still clouded from the dreams
of the night. He kept looking for a long time toward the sea, to the
right, to the left. At last, with a sour look, he said that he must in
any event satisfy M. Mouchel. And he went away at once with Tupain and
Brisemotte, threatening Margot to touch up her sides if she did not walk
straight. As the "Zephir" left the harbor, and as he saw the "Baleine"
swinging heavily at her anchor, he cheered up a little saying: "To-day,
I guess, not a bit of it! Blow out the candle, Jeanetton! those
gentlemen have gone to bed!"

And as soon as the "Zephir" had reached the open sea, La Queue cast his
nets. After that he went to visit his "jambins." The jambins are a kind
of elongated eel-pot in which they catch more, especially lobsters and
red garnet. But in spite of the calm sea, he did well to visit his
jambins one by one. All were empty; at the bottom of the last one, as
if in mockery, he found a little mackerel, which he threw back angrily
into the sea. It was fate; there were weeks like that when the fish
flouted Coqueville, and always at a time when M. Mouchel had expressed
a particular desire for them. When La Queue drew in his nets, an hour
later, he found nothing but a bunch of seaweed. Straightway he swore,
his fists clenched, raging so much the more for the vast serenity of the
ocean, lazy and sleeping like a sheet of burnished silver under the
blue sky. The "Zephir," without a waver, glided along in gentle ease. La
Queue decided to go in again, after having cast his nets once more. In
the afternoon he came to see them, and he menaced God and the saints,