n, and seeking some
way not to be spied upon, but ever without breaking away from those
exquisite lips.

He stretched forth his arm behind him, and with the back of his hand
dashed out the light, as if the wind had done it. Then he snatched her
up in his arms. Still holding her close, with his mouth continually
pressed to hers, he seemed like a wild lion with his teeth embedded in
his prey. For her part she gave herself up entirely, to that body and
soul seizure that was imperious and without possible resistance, even
though it remained soft as a great all-comprising embrace.

Around them, for their wedding hymn, the same invisible orchestra,
played on----"Hoo-ooh-hoo!" At times the wind bellowed out in its deep
noise, with a _tremolo_ of rage; and again repeated its threats, as if
with refined cruelty, in low sustained tones, flute-like as the hoot of
an owl.

The broad, fathomless grave of all sailors lay nigh to them, restless
and ravenous, drumming against the cliffs with its muffled boom.

One night or another Yann would have to be caught in that maw, and
battle with it in the midst of the terror of ice as well. Both knew this
plainly.

But what mattered that now to them on land, sheltered from the sea's
futile fury. In their poor gloomy cottage, over which tempest rushed,
they scorned all that was hostile, intoxicated and delightfully
fortified against the whole by the eternal magic of love.

CHAPTER VIII--THE BLISSFUL WEEK

For six days they were husband and wife. In this time of leave-taking
the preparations for the Iceland season occupied everybody. The women
heaped up the salt for the pickle in the holds of the vessels; the men
saw to the masts and rigging. Yann's mother and sisters worked from
morning till night at the making of the sou'westers and oilskin
waterproofs.

The weather was dull, and the sea, forefeeling the approach of the
equinoctial gales, was restless and heaving.

Gaud went through these inexorable preparations with agony; counting the
fleeting hours of the day, and looking forward to the night, when the
work was over, and she would have her Yann to herself.

Would he leave her every year in this way?

She hoped to be able to keep him back, but she did not dare to speak to
him about this wish as yet. He loved her passionately, too; he never had
known anything like this affection before; it was such a fresh, trusting
tenderness that the same caresses and fondlings always seem