Part 4 Yann's First Wedding Chapter 7

The wedding breakfast was given at Yann's parents', because Gaud'shome was so poor. It took place upstairs in the great new room. Five-and-twenty guests sat down round the newly married pair--sisters andbrothers, cousin Gaos the pilot, Guermeur, Keraez, Yvon Duff, all ofthe old /Marie's/ crew, who were now the /Leopoldine's/; four verypretty bridesmaids, with their hair-plaits wound round their ears,like the empresses' in ancient Byzantium, and their modern white caps,shaped like sea-shells; and four best men, all broad-shoulderedIcelanders, with large proud eyes.

　　Downstairs, of course, there was eating and cooking going on; thewhole train of the wedding procession had gathered there in disorder;and the extra servants, hired from Paimpol, well-nigh lost theirsenses before the mighty lumbering up of the capacious hearth withpots and pans.

　　Yann's parents would have wished a richer wife for their son,naturally, but Gaud was known now as a good, courageous girl; andthen, in spite of her lost fortune, she was the greatest beauty in thecountry, and it flattered them to see the couple so well matched.

　　The old father was inclined to be merry after the soup, and spoke ofthe bringing up of his fourteen little Gaoses; but they were all doingwell, thanks to the ten thousand francs that had made them well off.

　　Neighbour Guermeur related the tricks he played in the navy, yarnsabout China, the West Indies, and Brazil, making the young ones whowould be off some day, open their eyes in wonderment.

　　"There is a cry against the sea-service," said the old sailor,laughing, "but a man can have fine fun in it."The weather did not clear up; on the contrary, the wind and rain ragedthrough the gloomy night; and in spite of the care taken, some of theguests were fidgety about their smacks anchored in the harbour, andspoke of getting up to go and see if all was right. But here a morejovial sound than ever was heard from downstairs, where the youngermembers of the party were supping together; cheers of joy and peals oflaughter ascended. The little cousins were beginning to feelexhilarated by the cider.

　　Boiled and roasted meats had been served up with poultry, differentkinds of fish, omelets and pancakes.

　　The debate had turned upon fishery and smuggling, and the best meansof fooling the coast-guardsmen, who, as we all know, are the swornenemies of honest seafarers.

　　Upstairs, at the grand table, old circumnavigators went so far as torelate droll stories, in the vernacular.

　　But the wind was raging altogether too strong; for the windows shookwith a terrible clatter, and the man telling the tale had hurriedlyended to go and see to his smack.

　　Then another went on: "When I was bo's'n's mate aboard of the/Zenobie/, a-lying at Aden, and a-doing the duty of a corporal ofmarines, by the same token, you ought to ha' seen the ostridge feathertraders a-trying to scramble up over the side. [/Imitating the brokentalk/] 'Bon-joo, cap'n! we're not thiefs--we're honest merchants'--Honest, my eye! with a sweep of the bucket, a purtending to draw somewater up, I sent 'em all flying back an oar's length. 'Honestmerchants, are ye,' says I, 'then send us up a bunch of honestfeathers first--with a hard dollar or two in the core of it, d'ye see,and then I'll believe in your honesty!' Why, I could ha' made myfortun' out of them beggars, if I hadn't been born and brought uphonest myself, and but a sucking-dove in wisdom, saying nothing of myhaving a sweetheart at Toulon in the millinery line, who could haveused any quantity of feathers----"Ha! here's one of Yann's little brothers, a future Iceland fisherman,with a fresh pink face and bright eyes, who is suddenly taken ill fromhaving drunk too much cider. So little Laumec has to be carried off,which cuts short the story of the milliner and the feathers.

　　The wind wailed in the chimney like an evil spirit in torment; withfearful strength, it shook the whole house on its stone foundation.

　　"It strikes me the wind is stirred up, acos we're enjoying ofourselves," said the pilot cousin.

　　"No, it's the sea that's wrathy," corrected Yann, smiling at Gaud,"because I'd promised I'd be wedded to /her/."A strange languor seemed to envelop them both; they spoke to oneanother in a low voice, apart, in the midst of the general gaiety.

　　Yann, knowing thoroughly the effect of wine, did not drink at all. Nowand then he turned dull too, thinking of Sylvestre. It was anunderstood thing that there was to be no dancing, on account of himand of Gaud's dead father.

　　It was the dessert now; the singing would soon begin. But first therewere the prayers to say, for the dead of the family; this form isnever omitted, at all wedding-feasts, and is a solemn duty. So whenold Gaos rose and uncovered his white head, there was a dead silencearound.

　　"This," said he, "is for Guillaume Gaos, my father." Making the signof the cross, he began the Lord's prayer in Latin: "/Pater noster, quies in coelis, sanctificetur nomen tumm/----"The silence included all, even to the joyful little ones downstairs,and every voice was repeating in an undertone the same eternal words.

　　"This is for Yves and Jean Gaos, my two brothers, who were lost in theSea of Iceland. This is for Pierre Gaos, my son, shipwrecked aboardthe /Zelie/." When all the dead Gaoses had had their prayers, heturned towards grandmother Moan, saying, "This one is for SylvestreMoan."Yann wept as he recited another prayer.

　　"/Sed libera nos a malo. Amen/!"Then the songs began; sea-songs learned in the navy, on theforecastle, where we all know there are rare good vocalists.

　　"/Un noble corps, pas moins que celui des Zouaves/," etc.

　　A noble and a gallant ladThe Zouave is, we know,But, capping him for bravery,The sailor stands, I trow.

　　Hurrah, hurrah! long life to him,Whose glory never can grow dim!

　　This was sung by one of the bride's supporters, in a feeling tone thatwent to the soul; and the chorus was taken up by other fine, manlyvoices.

　　But the newly wedded pair seemed to listen as from a distance. Whenthey looked at one another, their eyes shone with dulled brilliance,like that of transparently shaded lamps. They spoke in even a lowervoice, and still held each other's hands. Gaud bent her head, too,gradually overcome by a vast, delightful terror, before her master.

　　The pilot cousin went around the table, serving out a wine of his own;he had brought it with much care, hugging and patting the bottle,which ought not to be shaken, he said. He told the story of it. Oneday out fishing they saw a cask a-floating; it was too big to haul onboard, so they had stove in the head and filled all the pots and pansthey had, with most of its contents. It was impossible to take all, sothey had signalled to other pilots and fishers, and all the sails insight had flocked round the flotsam.

　　"And I know more than one old sobersides who was gloriously topheavywhen we got back to Pors-Even at night!" he chuckled liquorishly.

　　The wind still went on with its fearful din.

　　Downstairs the children were dancing in rings; except some of theyoungest, sent to bed; but the others, who were romping about, led bylittle Fantec (Francis) and Laumec (Guillaume), wanted to go and playoutside. Every minute they were opening the door and letting infurious gusts, which blew out the candles.

　　The pilot cousin went on with his story. Forty bottles had fallen tohis lot, he said. He begged them all to say nothing about it, becauseof "/Monsieur le Commissaire de l'Inscription Maritime/," who wouldsurely make a fuss over the undeclared find.

　　"But, d'ye see," he went on, "it sarved the lubbers right to heaveover such a vallyble cask or let it 'scape the lashings, for it'ssuperior quality, with sartinly more jinywine grape-juice in it thanin all the wine-merchants' cellars of Paimpol. Goodness knows whenceit came--this here castaway liquor."It was very strong and rich in colour, dashed with sea-water, and hadthe flavour of cod-pickle, but in spite of that, relishable; andseveral bottles were emptied.

　　Some heads began to spin; the Babel of voices became more confused,and the lads kissed the lasses less surreptitiously.

　　The songs joyously continued; but the winds would not moderate, andthe seamen exchanged tokens of apprehension about the bad weatherincreasing.

　　The sinister clamour without was indeed worse than ever. It had becomeone continuous howl, deep and threatening, as if a thousand madcreatures were yelling with full throats and out-stretched necks.

　　One might imagine heavy sea-guns shooting out their deafening boom inthe distance, but that was only the sea hammering the coast ofPloubazlanec on all points; undoubtedly it did not appear contented,and Gaud felt her heart shrink at this dismal music, which no one hadordered for their wedding-feast.

　　Towards midnight, during a calm, Yann, who had risen softly, beckonedhis wife to come to speak with him.

　　It was to go home. She blushed, filled with shame, and confused athaving left her seat so promptly. She said it would be impolite to goaway directly and leave the others.

　　"Not a bit on it," replied Yann, "my father allows it; we may go," andaway he carried her.

　　They hurried away stealthily. Outside they found themselves in thecold, the bitter wind, and the miserable, agitated night. They beganto run hand-in-hand.

　　From the height of the cliff-path, one could imagine, without seeingit, the furious open sea, whence arose all this hubbub. They ranalong, the wind cutting their faces, both bowed before the angrygusts, and obliged to put their hands over their mouths to cover theirbreathing, which the wind had completely taken away at first.

　　He held her up by the waist at the outset, to keep her dress fromtrailing on the ground, and her fine new shoes from being spoiled inthe water, which streamed about their feet, and next he held her roundthe neck, too, and continued to run on still faster. He could hardlyrealize that he loved her so much! To think that she was now twenty-three and he nearly twenty-eight; that they might have been marriedtwo years ago, and as happy then as to-night!

　　At last they arrived at home, that poor lodging, with its dampflooring and moss-grown roof. They lit the candle, which the wind blewout twice.

　　Old grandam Moan, who had been taken home before the singing began,was there. She had been sleeping for the last two hours in her bunk,the flaps of which were shut. They drew near with respect and peepedthrough the fretwork of her press, to bid her good-night, if by chanceshe were not asleep. But they only perceived her still venerable faceand closed eyes; she slept, or she feigned to do so, not to disturbthem.

　　They felt they were alone then. Both trembled as they clasped hands.

　　He bent forward to kiss her lips; but Gaud turned them aside, throughignorance of that kind of kiss; and as chastely as on the evening oftheir betrothal, she pressed hers to Yann's cheek, which was chilled,almost frozen, by the wind.

　　It was bitterly cold in their poor, low-roofed cottage. If Gaud hadonly remained rich, what happiness she would have felt in arranging apretty room, not like this one on the bare ground! She was scarcelyyet used to these rugged granite walls, and the rough look of allthings around; but her Yann was there now, and by his presenceeverything was changed and transfigured. She saw only her husband.

　　Their lips met now; no turning aside. Still standing with their armsintertwined tightly to draw themselves together, they remained dumb,in the perfect ecstasy of a never-ending kiss. Their fluttering breathcommingled, and both quivered as if in a burning fever. They seemedwithout power to tear themselves apart, and knew nothing and desirednothing beyond that long kiss of consecrated love.

　　She drew herself away, suddenly agitated. "Nay, Yann! Granny Yvonnemight see us," she faltered.

　　But he, with a smile, sought his wife's lips again and fastened hisown upon them, like a thirsty man whose cup of fresh water had beentaken from him.

　　The movement they had made broke the charm of delightful hesitation.

　　Yann, who, at the first, was going to kneel to her as before a saint,felt himself fired again. He glanced stealthily towards the old oakenbunk, irritated at being so close to the old woman, and seeking someway not to be spied upon, but ever without breaking away from thoseexquisite lips.

　　He stretched forth his arm behind him, and with the back of his handdashed out the light, as if the wind had done it. Then he snatched herup in his arms. Still holding her close, with his mouth continuallypressed to hers, he seemed like a wild lion with his teeth embedded inhis prey. For her part she gave herself up entirely, to that body andsoul seizure that was imperious and without possible resistance, eventhough it remained soft as a great all-comprising embrace.

　　Around them, for their wedding hymn, the same invisible orchestra,played on---- "Hoo-ooh-hoo!" At times the wind bellowed out in itsdeep noise, with a /tremolo/ of rage; and again repeated its threats,as if with refined cruelty, in low sustained tones, flute-like as thehoot of an owl.

　　The broad, fathomless grave of all sailors lay nigh to them, restlessand ravenous, drumming against the cliffs with its muffled boom.

　　One night or another Yann would have to be caught in that maw, andbattle with it in the midst of the terror of ice as well. Both knewthis plainly.

　　But what mattered that now to them on land, sheltered from the sea'sfutile fury. In their poor gloomy cottage, over which tempest rushed,they scorned all that was hostile, intoxicated and delightfullyfortified against the whole by the eternal magic of love.