s
the _coiffe_ of Paimpol, who is so elegant, and whom I never have seen
before?"

And he quickly bent his eyes to the ground for politeness' sake, and
had appeared to take a renewed interest in the singers, only showing the
back of his head and his black hair that fell in rather long curls upon
his neck. And although she had asked the names of several others, she
had not dared ask his. The fine profile, the grand half-savage look,
the brown, almost tawny pupils moving rapidly on the bluish opal of the
eyes; all this had impressed her and made her timid.

And it just happened to be that "Fils Gaos," of whom she had heard the
Moans speak as a great friend of Sylvestre's. On the evening of this
same _Pardon_, Sylvestre and he, walking arm-in-arm, had crossed her
father and herself, and had stopped to wish them good-day.

And young Sylvestre had become again to her as a sort of brother. As
they were cousins they had continued to _tutoyer_ (using thou for you, a
sign of familiarity) each other; true, she had at first hesitated doing
so to this great boy of seventeen, who already wore a black beard,
but as his kind, soft, childish eyes had hardly changed at all, she
recognized him soon enough to imagine that she had never lost sight of
him.

When he used to come into Paimpol, she kept him to dinner of an evening;
it was without consequence to her, and he always had a very good
appetite, being on rather short rations at home.

To speak truly, Yann had not been very polite to her at this first
meeting, which took place at the corner of a tiny gray street, strewn
with green branches. He had raised his hat to her, with a noble though
timid gesture; and after having given her an ever-rapid glance, turned
his eyes away, as if he were vexed with this meeting and in a hurry to
go. A strong western breeze that had arisen during the procession, had
scattered branches of box everywhere and loaded the sky with dark gray
draperies.

Gaud, in her dreamland of remembrances, saw all this clearly again; the
sad gloaming falling upon the remains of the _Pardon_; the sheets strewn
with white flowers floating in the wind along the walls; the noisy
groups of Icelanders, other waifs of the gales and tempests flocking
into the taverns, singing to cheer themselves under the gloom of the
coming rain; and above all, Gaud remembered the giant standing in front
of her, turning aside as if annoyed, and troubled at having met her.

What a wonder