eighth ofDecember, the fete-day of Our Lady of Bonne-Nouvelle, the patroness offishers--a little before the procession, wi

rejoicing was heavy and

ontempt;of physical strength and alcohol; above which floated,

ages. Groups of sailors, arm-in-arm, zigzaggingthrough the streets, from their habit of rolling, and because theywere half-drunk. Groups of girls in their nun-like white caps. Oldgranite houses sheltering these seething

with its perfume of incense, its lightedtapers, and the votive offerings of sailors hung all over the sacredarch. And side by side also with the happy girls were the sweetheartsof dead sailors, and the widows of the shipwrecked fishers, quittingthe chapel of the dead in their long mourning shawls an

sed impression of all

t-place, where there were games and acrobats, shewalked up and down with her friends, who named and pointed out to herfrom time to time the young men of Pa

ed round as if he had heard her, and had given her a quickglance from top to toe, seeming to say: "Who is this girl who wearsthe /coiffe/ of Paimpol, who is so elegant, and whom I never have seenbefore?"And he quickly bent his eyes to the ground for politeness' sake, andhad appeared to take a renewed interest in the singers, only showi

great friend of Sylvestre's. On the evening of thissame /Pardon/, Sylvestre and he, wal

a sign of familiarity) each other; true, she had at first hesitateddoing so to this great boy of seventeen, who already wore a blackbeard, b

anevening; it was without consequence to her, and he always h

raised his hat to her, with a noble thoughtimid gesture; and after having given her an ever-rapid glance, turnedhis eyes away, as if he were vexed with this meeting

rs floating in the wind along the walls; thenoisy groups of Icelanders, other waifs of the gales and tempestsflocking into the taverns, singing to cheer themselv

ince then; and what adifference there was bet

e warm long twilightof May, which kept her still at