was very
ill, and their child was choking in its cot, suddenly attacked with a
malignant sore throat; so he had run over to beg for assistance on the
road to fetch the doctor from Paimpol.

What did all this matter to her? She had gone mad in her own distress,
and could give no thoughts to the troubles of others. Huddled on a
bench, she remained before him with fixed glazed eyes, like a dead
woman's; without listening to him, or even answering at random or
looking at him. What to her was the speech the man was making?

He understood it all, and guessed why the door had been opened so
quickly to him; and feeling pity for the pain he had unwittingly
caused, he stammered out an excuse.

"Just so: he never ought to have disturbed her--her in particular."

"I!" ejaculated Gaud quickly, "why should I not be disturbed
particularly, Fantec?"

Life had suddenly come back to her; for she did not wish to appear in
despair before others. Besides, she pitied him now; she dressed to
accompany him, and found the strength to go and see to his little child.

At four o'clock in the morning, when she returned to throw herself on
the bed, sleep subdued her, for she was tired out. But that moment of
excessive joy had left an impression on her mind, which in spite of all
was permanent; she awoke soon with a shudder, rising a little and
partially recollecting--she knew not what. News had come to her about
her Yann. In the midst of her confusion of ideas, she sought rapidly
in her mind what it could be; but there was nothing save Fantec's
interruption.

For the second time she fell back into her terrible abyss, nothing
changed in her morbid, hopeless waiting.

Yet in that short, hopeful moment, she had felt him so near to her that
it was as if his spirit had floated over the sea unto her,--what is
called a foretoken (_pressigne_) in Breton land; and she listened still
more attentively to the steps outside, trusting that some one might
come to her to speak of him.

Just as the day broke, Yann's father entered. He took off his cap, and
pushed back his splendid white locks, which were in curls like Yann's,
sat down by Gaud's bedside.

His heart ached heavily too; for Yann, his tall, handsome Yann, was his
first-born, his favorite and his pride: but he did not despair yet. He
comforted Gaud in his own blunt, affectionate way. To begin with,
those who had last returned from Iceland spoke of the increasing dense
fogs, which mi