there, and Guillaume Moan, Sylvestre's grandfather."

She could almost see the little churchyard at the foot of the solitary
capes, under the pale rose-coloured light of those never-ending days,
and she thought of those distant dead, under the ice and dark winding
sheets of the long night-like winters.

"Do you fish the whole time?" she asked, "without ever stopping?"

"The whole time, though we somehow get on with work on deck, for the sea
isn't always fine out there. Well! of course we're dead beat when the
night comes, but it gives a man an appetite--bless you, dearest, we
regularly gobble down our meals."

"Do you never feel sick of it?"

"Never," returned he, with an air of unshaken faith which pained her;
"on deck, on the open sea, the time never seems long to a man--never!"

She hung her head, feeling sadder than ever, and more and more
vanquished by her only enemy, the sea.

PART V -- THE SECOND WEDDING

CHAPTER I--THE START

After the spring day they had enjoyed, the falling night brought back
the impression of winter, and they returned to dine before their fire,
which was flaming with new branches. It was their last meal together;
but they had some hours yet, and were not saddened.

After dinner, they recovered the sweet impression of spring again, out
on the Pors-Even road; for the air was calm, almost genial, and the
twilight still lingered over the land.

They went to see the family--for Yann to bid good-bye--and returned
early, as they wished to rise with break of day.

The next morning the quay of Paimpol was crowded with people. The
departures for Iceland had begun the day before, and with each tide
there was a fresh fleet off. On this particular morning, fifteen vessels
were to start with the _Leopoldine_, and the wives or mothers of the
sailors were all present at the getting under sail.

Gaud, who was now the wife of an Icelander, was much surprised to
find herself among them all, and brought thither for the same fateful
purpose. Her position seemed to have become so intensified within the
last few days, that she had barely had time to realize things as they
were; gliding irresistibly down an incline, she had arrived at this
inexorable conclusion that she must bear up for the present, and do as
the others did, who were accustomed to it.

She never before had been present at these farewells; hence all was new
to her. Among these women was none like her, and she felt her differ