Part 4 Yann's First Wedding Chapter 6

It was six days before the sailing for Iceland. Their weddingprocession was returning from Ploubazlanec Church, driven before afurious wind, under a sombre, rain-laden sky.

　　They looked very handsome, nevertheless, as they walked along as in adream, arm-in-arm, like king and queen leading a long cortege. Calm,reserved, and grave, they seemed to see nothing about them; as if theywere above ordinary life and everybody else. The very wind seemed torespect them, while behind them their "train" was a jolly medley oflaughing couples, tumbled and buffeted by the angry western gale.

　　Many people were present, overflowing with young life; others turninggray, but these still smiled as they thought of /their/ wedding-dayand younger years. Granny Yvonne was there and following, too, pantinga little, but something like happy, hanging on the arm of an old uncleof Yann's, who was paying her old-fashioned compliments. She wore agrand new cap, bought for the occasion, and her tiny shawl, which hadbeen dyed a third time, and black, because of Sylvestre.

　　The wind worried everybody; dresses and skirts, bonnets and /coiffes/,were similarly tossed about mercilessly.

　　At the church door, the newly married couple, pursuant to custom, hadbought two nosegays of artificial flowers, to complete their bridalattire. Yann had fastened his on anyhow upon his broad chest, but hewas one of those men whom anything becomes. As for Gaud, there wasstill something of the lady about the manner in which she had placedthe rude flowers in her bodice, as of old very close fitting to herunrivalled form.

　　The violin player, who led the whole band, bewildered by the wind,played at random; his tunes were heard by fits and starts betwixt thenoisy gusts, and rose as shrill as the screaming of a sea-gull. AllPloubazlanec had turned out to look at them. This marriage seemed toexcite people's sympathy, and many had come from far around; at eachturn of the road there were groups stationed to see them pass. Nearlyall Yann's mates, the Icelanders of Paimpol, were there. They cheeredthe bride and bridegroom as they passed; Gaud returned their greeting,bowing slightly like a town lady, with serious grace; and all alongthe way she was greatly admired.

　　The darkest and most secluded hamlets around, even those in the woods,had been emptied of all their beggars, cripples, wastrels, poor, andidiots on crutches; these wretches scattered along the road, withaccordions and hurdy-gurdies; they held out their hands and hats toreceive the alms that Yann threw to them with his own noble look andGaud with her beautiful queenly smile. Some of these poor waifs werevery old and wore gray locks on heads that had never held much;crouching in the hollows of the roadside, they were of the same colouras the earth from which they seemed to have sprung, but so unformed assoon to be returned without ever having had any human thoughts. Theirwandering glances were as indecipherable as the mystery of theirabortive and useless existences. Without comprehending, they looked atthe merrymakers' line pass by. It went on beyond Pors-Even and theGaoses' home. They meant to follow the ancient bridal tradition ofPloubazlanec and go to the chapel of La Trinite, which is situated atthe very end of the Breton country.

　　At the foot of the outermost cliff, it rests on a threshold of low-lying rocks close to the water, and seems almost to belong to the seaalready. A narrow goat's path leads down to it through masses ofgranite.

　　The wedding party spread over the incline of the forsaken cape head;and among the rocks and stones, happy words were lost in the roar ofthe wind and the surf.

　　It was useless to try and reach the chapel; in this boisterous weatherthe path was not safe, the sea came too close with its high rollers.

　　Its white-crested spouts sprang up in the air, so as to break overeverything in a ceaseless shower.

　　Yann, who had advanced the farthest with Gaud on his arm, was thefirst to retreat before the spray. Behind, his wedding party hadremained strewn about the rocks, in a semicircle; it seemed as if hehad come to present his wife to the sea, which received her withscowling, ill-boding aspect.

　　Turning round, he caught sight of the violinist perched on a grayrock, trying vainly to play his dance tunes between gusts of wind.

　　"Put up your music, my lad," said Yann; "old Neptune is playing us alivelier tune than yours."A heavily beating shower, which had threatened since morning, began tofall. There was a mad rush then, accompanied by outcries and laughter,to climb up the bluff and take refuge at the Gaoses'.