e.

Outside the gray mist of the dawn fell over the land, and the dead
leaves were again blown dancingly into the porch.

Steps on the footpath? Somebody was coming? She rose and quickly
smoothed down her cap and composed her face. Nearer drew the steps. She
assumed the air of one who might be there by chance; for, above all, she
did not wish to appear yet, like the widow of a shipwrecked mariner.

It happened to be Fante Floury, the wife of the second mate of the
_Leopoldine_. She understood immediately what Gaud was doing there; it
was useless to dissemble with her. At first each woman stood speechless
before the other. They were angry and almost hated each other for having
met with a like sentiment of apprehension.

"All the men of Treguier and Saint Brieuc have been back this week,"
said Fante at last, in a pitiless, muffled, half-irritated voice.

She carried a blessed taper in her hand, to offer up a prayer. Gaud did
not wish yet to resort to that extreme resource of despairing wives.
Yet silently she entered the chapel behind Fante, and they knelt down
together side by side, like two sisters.

To the "Star of the Sea" they offered ardent imploring prayers, with
their whole soul in them. A sound of sobbing was alone heard, as their
rapid tears swiftly fell upon the floor. They rose together, more
confident and softened. Fante held up Gaud, who staggered, and taking
her in her arms, kissed her.

Wiping their eyes, and smoothing their dishevelled hair, they brushed
off the salt dust from the flagstones, soiling their gowns, and they
went away in opposite directions, without another word.

CHAPTER VI--ALL BUT ONE

This end of September was like another summer, only a little less
lively. The weather was so beautiful, that had it not been for the dead
leaves that fell upon the roads, one might have thought that June
had come back again. Husbands and sweethearts had all returned, and
everywhere was the joy of a second spring-time of love.

At last, one day, one of the missing ships was signalled. Which one was
it?

The groups of speechless and anxious women had rapidly formed on the
cliff. Gaud, pale and trembling, was there, by the side of her Yann's
father.

"I'm almost sure," said the old fisher, "I'm almost sure it's them! A
red rail and a topsail that clews up--it's very like them anyhow. What
do you make it, Gaud?

"No, it isn't," he went on, with sudden discouragement; "we've made
a mistake a