She stayed three days with him, three happy days, though over themhung a dark and ominous forecast; one might as well call them threedays of respite.
At last she was forced to return to Ploubazlanec, for she had come tothe end of her little savings, and Sylvestre was to embark the dayafterward. The sailors are always inexorably kept in barracks the daybefore foreign cruises (a custom that seems rather barbarous at first,but which is a necessary precaution against the "flings" they wouldhave before leaving definitely).
Oh that last day! She had done her very best to hatch up some morefunny stories in her head, to tell her boy just at the parting; butshe had remembered nothing--no; only tears had welled up, and at everymoment sobs choked her. Hanging on his arm, she reminded him of athousand things he was not to forget to do, and he also tried hard torepress his tears. They had ended by going into a church to say theirprayers together.
It was by the night train that she went. To save a few pence, they hadgone on foot to the station; he carrying her box, and holding her onhis strong arm, upon which she weighed heavily.
She was so very, very tired--poor old lady! She had scarcely anystrength left after the exertion of the last three or four days. Hershoulders were bent under her brown shawl, and she had no force tobear herself up; her youngish look was gone, and she felt the weightof her seventy-six years.
Oh! how her heart ached at the thought that it was all over, and thatin a few moments she must leave him! Was he really to go out so far,to China, perhaps to slaughter. She still had him there with her,quite close, her poor hands could yet grasp him--and yet he must go;all the strength of her will, all her tears, and all her greatheartrending despair--all! would nothing be of avail to keep him back?
With her ticket, and her lunch-basket, and her mittens in her grasp,agitated, she gave him her last blessing and advice, and he answeredher with an obedient "Ay, ay," bending his head tenderly towards herand gazing lovingly at her, in his soft childish way.
"Now then, old lady, you must make up your mind plaguey quick if youwant to go by this train!"The engine whistled. Suddenly terrified at the idea of losing thetrain, she bore her box from Sylvestre's grasp, and flinging it down,threw her arms round his neck in a last and supreme embrace.
Many people on the platform stared at them, but not one smiled.
Hustled about by the porters, worn out and full of pain, she pressedinto the first carriage near; the door was banged quickly upon her,while Sylvestre, with all the speed of a young sailor, rushed out ofthe station to the rails beside the line to see the train pass.
A shrill screeching whistle, a noisy grinding of the wheels, and hisgrandmother passed away, leaving him leaning against the gate andswinging up his cap with its flying ribbons, while she, hanging out ofthe window of her third-class carriage, made an answering signal withher handkerchief; and for as long as she could see the dark blue-cladfigure, that was her child, followed him with her eyes, throwing herwhole soul into that "good-bye!" kept back to the last, and alwaysuncertain of realization when sailors are concerned.
Look long at your little Sylvestre, poor old woman; until the verylatest moment, do not lose sight of his fleeting shadow, which isfading away for ever.
When she could see him no longer, she fell back, completely crushingher still clean unrumpled cap, weeping and sobbing in the agony ofdeath itself.
He had turned away slowly, with his head bent, and big tears fallingdown his cheeks. The autumn night had closed in; everywhere the gaswas flaring, and the sailors' riotous feasts had begun anew. Paying noheed to anything about him, he passed through Brest and over theRecouvrance Bridge, to the barracks.
"Whist! here, you darling boy!" called out some nocturnal prowlers tohim; but he passed on, and entering the barracks, flung himself downin his hammock, weeping, all alone, and hardly sleeping until dawn.
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