CHAPTER XIII
RENEWED DISAPPOINTMENT
But one day in Paimpol, hearing that /La Marie/ had just got in, Gaud
felt possessed with a kind of fever. All her quiet composure
disappeared; she abruptly finished up her work, without quite knowing
why, and set off home sooner than usual.
Upon the road, as she hurried on, she recognised /him/, at some
distance off, coming towards her. She trembled and felt her strength
giving way. He was now quite close, only about twenty steps off, his
head erect and his hair curling out from beneath his fisher's cap. She
was so taken by surprise at this meeting, that she was afraid she
might fall, and then he would understand all; she would die of very
shame at it. She thought, too, she was not looking well, but wearied
by the hurried work. She would have done anything to be hidden away
under the reeds or in one of the ferret-holes.
He also had taken a backward step, as if to turn in another direction.
But it was too late now. Both met in the narrow path. Not to touch
her, he drew up against the bank, with a side swerve like a skittish
horse, looking at her in a wild, stealthy way.
She, too, for one half second looked up, and in spite of herself
mutely implored him, with an agonized prayer. In that involuntary
meeting of their eyes, swift as the firing of a gun, these gray pupils
of hers had appeared to dilate and light up with some grand noble
thought, which flashed forth in a blue flame, while the blood rushed
crimson even to her temples beneath her golden tresses.
As he touched his cap he faltered. "Wish you good-day, Mademoiselle
Gaud."
"Good-day, Monsieur Yann," she answered.
That was all. He passed on. She went on her way, still quivering, but
feeling, as he disappeared, that her blood was slowly circulating
again and her strength returning.
At home, she found Granny Moan crouching in a corner with her head
held between her hands, sobbing with her childish "he, he!" her hair
dishevelled and falling from beneath her cap like thin skeins of gray
hemp.
"Oh, my kind Gaud! I've just met young Gaos down by Plouherzel as I
came back from my wood-gathering; we spoke of our poor lad, of course.
They arrived this morning from Iceland, and in the afternoon he came
over to see me while I was out. Poor lad, he had tears in his eyes,
too. He came right up to my door, my kind Gaud, to carry my little
fagot."
She listened, standing, while her heart seemed almost to break; so
this visit of Yann's, upon which she had so much relied for saying so
many things, was already over, and would doubtless not occur again. It
was all done. Her poor heart seemed more lonely than ever. Her misery
harder, and the world more empty; and she hung her head with a wild
desire to die.
