sea surrounded with groves and with islands covered with
pines. Among the venerable antiquities of the city was the Gothic
cathedral with its many tombs, among them that of a Spanish saint,--St.
Vicente Ferrer.

This gave a tug at Caragol's heart-strings. He had never before
bothered to find out where the famous apostle of Valencia was
entombed.... He recalled suddenly a strophe of the songs of praise that
the devotees of his land used to sing before the altars of this saint.
Sure enough he had gone to die in "Vannes, in Brittainy,"--a mere
geographical name which until then had lacked any significance for
him.... And so this lad was from Vannes? Nothing more was needed to
make Caragol regard him with the respect due to one born in a
miraculous country.

He made him describe many times the tomb of the saint, the only one in
the transept of the cathedral, the moth-eaten tapestries that
perpetuated his miracles, the silver bust which guarded his heart....
Furthermore, the principal portal of Vannes was called the gate of St.
Vicente and recollections of the saint were still alive in their
chronicles.

Caragol proposed to visit this city also when the ship should return to
Brest. Brittainy must be very holy ground, the holiest in the world,
since the miracle-working Valencian, after traversing so many nations,
had wished to die there.

It, therefore, did not produce the slightest astonishment that this
slip of a boy who had been picked up at Dixmude covered with wounds,
was now showing himself sane and vigorous.... On board the _Mare
Nostrum_ he was the head gunner. He and two comrades had charge of the
quickfirers. For Caragol there was not the slightest doubt as to the
fate of every submarine that should venture to attack them; the "lad
from Vannes" would send them to smithereens at the first shot. A
picture post-card, a gift of the lad from Brittany, showing the tomb of
the saint, occupied the position of honor in the galley. The old man
used to pray before it as though it were a miracle-working print, and
the _Cristo del Grao_ was relegated to second place.

One morning Caragol went in search of the captain and found him writing
in his stateroom. He had just come from making purchases in the shore
market. While passing through the _rue de Siam_, the most important
road in Brest, where the theaters are, the moving-picture shows, and
the cafes, he had had an encounter. "An unexpected meeting," he
continued with a