"To the Memory of GAOS, FRANCOIS, Husband of Anne-Marie le Goaster, Captain on board the /Paimpolais/, Lost off Iceland, between the 1st and 3d of May, 1877, With the twenty-three men of his crew.
May they rest in peace!"
And, lower down, were two cross-bones under a black skull with green eyes, a simple but ghastly emblem, reminding one of all the barbarism of a bygone age.
"Gaos, Gaos!" The name was everywhere. As she read, thrills of sweet tenderness came over her for this Yann of her choice, damped by a feeling of hopelessness. Nay, he would never be hers! How could she tear him from the sea where so many other Gaoses had gone down, ancestors and brothers, who must have loved the sea like he! She entered the chapel. It was almost dark, badly lit by low windows with heavy frames. And there, her heart full of tears that would better have fallen, she knelt to pray before the colossal saints, surrounded by common flowers, touching the vaulted roof with their massive heads.
Outside, the rising wind began to sob as if it brought the death-gasps of the drowned men back to their Fatherland.
Night drew near; she rose and went on her way. After having asked in the village, she found the home of the Gaos family, which was built up against a high cliff. A dozen granite steps led up to it. Trembling a little at the thought that Yann might have returned, she crossed the small garden where chrysanthemums and veronicas grew.
When she was indoors, she explained she had come to bring the money for the boat, and they very politely asked her to sit down, to await the father's return, as he was the one to sign the receipt for her.
Amidst all, her eyes searched for Yann--but did not see him.
They were very busy in the home. Already they were cutting out the new waterproof cloth on the clean white table, and getting it ready for the approaching Iceland season.
"You see, Mademoiselle Gaud, it's like this: every man wants two new suits."They explained to her how they set to work to make them, and to render their seams waterproof with tar, for they were for wet weather wear.
And while they worked, Gaud looked attentively around the home of these Gaoses.
It was furnished after the traditional manner of all Breton cottages;an immense chimney-place took up one whole end, and on the sides of the walls the Breton beds, bunks, as on shipboard, were placed one above another. But it was not so sombre and sad as the cabins of other peasants, which are generally half-hidden by the wayside; it was all fresh and clean, as the homes of seamen usually are. Several little Gaoses were there, girls and boys, all sisters and brothers of Yann;without counting two big ones, who were already out at sea. And, besides, there was a little fair girl, neat, but sad, unlike the others.
"We adopted her last year," explained the mother; "we had enough children as it was, of course, but what else could we do, Mademoiselle Gaud, for her daddy belonged to the /Maria-Dieu-t'aime/, lost last season off Iceland, as you know; so the neighbours divided the little ones between them, and this one fell to our lot."Hearing herself spoken of, the adopted child hung her pretty head and smiled, hiding herself behind little Laumec Gaos, her favourite.
There was a look of comfort all over the place, and radiant health bloomed on all the children's rosy cheeks.
They received Gaud very profusely, like a great lady whose visit was an honour to the family. She was taken upstairs, up a newly-built wooden staircase, to see the room above, which was the glory of the home. She remembered the history of its construction; it was after the finding of a derelict vessel in the channel, which luck had befallen Yann's father and his cousin the pilot.
The room was very gay and pretty in its whiteness; there were two town beds in it, with pink chintz curtains, and a large table in the middle. Through the window the whole of Paimpol could be seen, with the Icelanders at anchor off shore, and the channel through which they passed.
