Part 2 In The Breton Land Chapter 11

In Paimpol again, on the last day of February, before the setting-outfor Iceland. Gaud was standing up against her room door, pale andstill. For Yann was below, chatting to her father. She had seen himcome in, and indistinctly heard his voice.

　　All through the winter they never had met, as if some invincible fatealways had kept them apart.

　　After the failure to find him in her walk to Pors-Even, she had placedsome hope on the /Pardon des Islandais/ where there would be manychances for them to see and talk to one another, in the market-placeat dusk, among the crowd.

　　But on the very morning of the holiday, though the streets werealready draped in white and strewn with green garlands, a hard rainhad fallen in torrents, brought from the west by a soughing wind;never had so black a sky shadowed Paimpol. "What a pity! the boyswon't come over from Ploubazlanec now," had moaned the lasses, whosesweethearts dwelt there. And they did not come, or else had gonestraight into the taverns to drink together.

　　There had been no processions or strolls, and she, with her heartaching more than ever, had remained at her window the whole eveninglistening to the water streaming over the roofs, and the fishers'

　　noisy songs rising and falling out of the depths of the taverns.

　　For the last few days she had been expecting this visit, surmisingtruly that old Gaos would send his son to terminate the businessconcerning the sale of the boat, as he did not care to come intoPaimpol himself. She determined then that she would go straight tohim, and, unlike other girls, speak out frankly, to have herconscience clear on the subject. She would reproach him with havingsought her out and having abandoned her like a man without honour. Ifit were only stubbornness, timidity, his great love for his sailor-life, or simply the fear of a refusal, as Sylvestre had hinted, why,all these objections would disappear, after a frank, fairunderstanding between them. His fond smile might return, which hadcharmed and won her the winter before, and all would be settled. Thishope gave her strength and courage, and sweetened her impatience. Fromafar, things always appear so easy and simple to say and to do.

　　This visit of Yann's fell by chance at a convenient hour. She was surethat her father, who was sitting and smoking, would not get up to walkpart of the way with him; so in the empty passage she might have herexplanation out with him.

　　But now that the time had come, such boldness seemed extreme. The bareidea of looking him face to face at the foot of those stairs, made hertremble; and her heart beat as if it would break. At any moment thedoor below might open, with the squeak she knew so well, to let himout!

　　"No, no, she never would dare; rather would she die of longing andsorrow, than attempt such an act." She already made a few return stepstowards the back of her room, to regain her seat and work. But shestopped again, hesitating and afraid, remembering that to-morrow wasthe sailing day for Iceland, and that this occasion stood alone. Ifshe let it slip by, she would have to wait through months upon monthsof solitude and despair, languishing for his return--losing anotherwhole summer of her life.

　　Below, the door opened--Yann was coming out!

　　Suddenly resolute, she rushed downstairs, and tremblingly stood beforehim.

　　"Monsieur Yann, I--I wish to speak to you, please.""To me, Mademoiselle Gaud?" queried he, lowering his voice andsnatching off his hat.

　　He looked at her fiercely, with a hard expression in his flashingeyes, and his head thrown back, seeming even to wonder if he ought tostop for her at all. With one foot ready to start away, he stoodstraight up against the wall, as if to be as far apart from her aspossible, in the narrow passage, where he felt imprisoned.

　　Paralyzed, she could remember nothing of what she had wished to say;she had not thought he would try and pass on without listening to her.

　　What an affront!

　　"Does our house frighten you, Monsieur Yann?" she asked, in a dry, oddtone--not at all the one she wished to use.

　　He turned his eyes away, looking outside; his cheeks blazed red, arush of blood burned all his face, and his quivering nostrils dilatedwith every breath, keeping time with the heavings of his chest, like ayoung bull's.

　　"The night of the ball," she tried to continue, "when we weretogether, you bade me good-bye, not as a man speaks to an indifferentperson. Monsieur Yann, have you no memory? What have I done to vexyou?"The nasty western breeze blowing in from the street ruffled his hairand the frills of Gaud's /coiffe/, and behind them a door was bangedfuriously. The passage was not meet for talking of serious matters in.

　　After these first phrases, choking, Gaud remained speechless, feelingher head spin, and without ideas. They still advanced towards thestreet door; he seemed so anxious to get away, and she was sodetermined not to be shaken off.

　　Outside the wind blew noisily and the sky was black. A sad livid lightfell upon their faces through the open door. And an opposite neighbourlooked at them: what could the pair be saying to one another in thatpassage together, looking so troubled? What was wrong over at theMevel's?

　　"Nay, Mademoiselle Gaud," he answered at last, turning away with thepowerful grace of a young lion, "I've heard folks talk about us quiteenough already! Nay, Mademoiselle Gaud, for, you see, you are rich,and we are not people of the same class. I am not the fellow to comeafter a 'swell' lady."He went forth on his way. So now all was over for ever and ever. Shehad not even said what she wished in that interview, which had onlymade her seem a very bold girl in his sight. What kind of a fellow wasthis Yann, with his contempt for women, his scorn for money, and alldesirable things?

　　At first she remained fixed to the spot, sick with giddiness, asthings swam around her. One intolerably painful thought suddenlystruck her like a flash of lightning--Yann's comrades, the Icelanders,were waiting for him below in the market-place. What if he were totell them this as a good joke--what a still more odious affront uponher! She quickly returned to her room to watch them through herwindow-curtains.

　　Before the house, indeed, she saw the men assembled, but they weresimply contemplating the weather, which was becoming worse and worse,and discussed the threatening rain.

　　"It'll only be a shower. Let's go in and drink away the time, till itpasses."They poked jokes and laughed loudly over Jeannie Caroff and otherbeauties; but not even one of them looked up at /her/ window. Theywere all joyful, except Yann, who said nothing, and remained grave andsad. He did not go in to drink with them; and without noticing eitherthem or the rain, which had begun to fall, he slowly walked away underthe shower, as if absorbed in his thoughts, crossing the market-placetowards Ploubazlanec.

　　Then she forgave him all, and a feeling of hopeless tenderness for himcame, instead of the bitter disappointment that previously had filledher heart. She sat down and held her head between her hands. Whatcould she do now?

　　Oh! if he had listened only a moment to her, or if he could come intothat room, where they might speak together alone, perhaps all mightyet be arranged. She loved him enough to tell him so to his face. Shewould say to him: "You sought me out when I asked you for nothing; nowI am yours with my whole soul, if you will have me. I don't mind a bitbeing the wife of a fisherman, and yet, if I liked, I need but chooseamong all the young men of Paimpol; but I do love you, because,notwithstanding all, I believe you to be better than others. I'mtolerably well-to-do, and I know I am pretty; although I have lived intowns, I am sure that I am not a spoiled girl, as I never have doneanything wrong; then, if I love you so, why shouldn't you take me?"But all this never would be said except in dreams; it was too late!

　　Yann would not hear her. Try and talk to him a second time? Oh, no!

　　what kind of a creature would he take her then to be? She would ratherdie.

　　Yet to-morrow they would all start for Iceland. The whitish Februarydaylight streamed into her fine room. Chill and lonely she fell uponone of the chairs along the wall. It seemed to her as if the wholeworld were crashing and falling in around her. All things past andpresent were as if buried in a fearful abyss, which yawned on allsides of her. She wished her life would end, and that she were lyingcalm beneath some cold tombstone, where no more pain might touch her.

　　But she had sincerely forgiven him, and no hatred mingled with herdesperate love.