s to cast anchor off Pors-Even before starting
definitely in the evening, so the married pair had made a last
appointment here. Yann came to land in the yawl, and stayed another
three hours with her to bid her good-bye on firm land. The weather was
still beautiful and spring-like, and the sky serene.

They walked out on the high road arm-in-arm, and it reminded them of
their walk the day before. They strolled on towards Paimpol without
any apparent object in view, and soon came to their own house, as if
unconsciously drawn there; they entered together for the last time.
Grandam Moan was quite amazed at seeing them together again.

Yann left many injunctions with Gaud concerning several of his things in
his wardrobe, especially about his fine wedding clothes; she was to take
them out occasionally and air them in the sun, and so on. On board ship
the sailors learn all these household-like matters; but Gaud was amused
to hear it. Her husband might have been sure, though, that all his
things would be kept and attended to, with loving care.

But all these matters were very secondary for them; they spoke of them
only to have something to talk about, and to hide their real feelings.
They went on speaking in low, soft tones, as if fearing to frighten away
the moments that remained, and so make time flit by more swiftly still.
Their conversation was as a thing that had inexorably to come to an end;
and the most insignificant things that they said seemed, on this day, to
become wondrous, mysterious, and important.

At the very last moment Yann caught up his wife in his arms, and without
saying a word, they were enfolded in a long and silent embrace.

He embarked; the gray sails were unfurled and spread out to the light
wind that rose from the west. He, whom she still could distinguish,
waved his cap in a particular way agreed on between them. And with her
figure outlined against the sea, she gazed for a long, long time upon
her departing love.

That tiny, human-shaped speck, appearing black against the bluish gray
of the waters, was still her husband, even though already it became
vague and indefinable, lost in the distance, where persistent sight
becomes baffled, and can see no longer.

As the _Leopoldine_ faded out of vision, Gaud, as if drawn by a magnet,
followed the pathway all along the cliffs till she had to stop, because
the land came to an end; she sat down at the foot of a tall cross, which
rises amidst the gorse