Hustled
about by the porters, worn out and full of pain, she pressed into
the first carriage near; the door was banged quickly upon her, while
Sylvestre, with all the speed of a young sailor, rushed out of the
station to the rails beside the line to see the train pass.

A shrill screeching whistle, a noisy grinding of the wheels, and his
grandmother passed away, leaving him leaning against the gate and
swinging up his cap with its flying ribbons, while she, hanging out of
the window of her third-class carriage, made an answering signal with
her handkerchief; and for as long as she could see the dark blue-clad
figure, that was her child, followed him with her eyes, throwing her
whole soul into that "good-bye!" kept back to the last, and always
uncertain of realization when sailors are concerned.

Look long at your little Sylvestre, poor old woman; until the very
latest moment, do not lose sight of his fleeting shadow, which is fading
away for ever.

When she could see him no longer, she fell back, completely crushing
her still clean unrumpled cap, weeping and sobbing in the agony of death
itself.

He had turned away slowly, with his head bent, and big tears falling
down his cheeks. The autumn night had closed in; everywhere the gas was
flaring, and the sailors' riotous feasts had begun anew. Paying no heed
to anything about him, he passed through Brest and over the Recouvrance
Bridge, to the barracks.

"Whist! here, you darling boy!" called out some nocturnal prowlers to
him; but he passed on, and entering the barracks, flung himself down in
his hammock, weeping, all alone, and hardly sleeping until dawn.

CHAPTER IX--THE EASTERN VOYAGE

Sylvestre was soon out on the ocean, rapidly whisked away over the
unknown seas, far more blue than Iceland's. The ship that carried him
off to the confines of Asia was ordered to go at full speed and stop
nowhere. Ere long he felt that he was far away, for the speed was
unceasing, and even without a care for the sea or the wind. As he was
a topman, he lived perched aloft, like a bird, avoiding the soldiers
crowded upon the deck.

Twice they stopped, however, on the coast of Tunis, to take up more
Zouaves and mules; from afar he had perceived the white cities amid
sands and arid hills. He had even come down from his top to look at the
dark-brown men draped in their white robes who came off in small boats
to peddle fruit; his mates told him that these were Bedouins.

The