that with our savings we were able to build this house
and buy this furniture. And so we were contented!
One night, it was two years ago, the father and the
boys did not return! I was not alarmed at all. It often
happened that he had gone out far, as far as Croisic,
Sables or Herbaudiere. Was it not his business to
follow the fish? But days passed and none showed
up! And the days were still passing. . . . And not one
came back! Every morning and every evening I used
to go to the harbor and look at the sea. . . . I used
to ask the fishermen whom I happened to meet: ' Have
you seen the Marie Joseph yet?' ' No,' someone would
answer, 'I wonder why they haven't come back?' 'I
don't know.' Do you think some misfortune happened to them?' 'It's quite possible!' And while saying this the fisherman would cross himself. Then I burned three candles at the Notre Dame du Bon Voyage! . . . Finally one day, they came back, all three of them, in a big cart, black, swollen, half devoured by crabs and starfishes. . . . Dead. . . . Dead. . . . . all three of them, my man and my two handsome boys. The keeper of the Penmarch lighthouse had found them washed upon the rocks."
I was not listening and was thinking of Juliette. Where is she? Why does she keep silent? Eternal questions!
Mother Le Gannec continued:
"I don't know your affairs, friend Mintié, and I don't know why you are so unhappy, but you have not lost your man and your two boys at one stroke as I have! And even if I don't cry, friend Mintié, that does not keep me from feeling sad, you see!"
And when the wind howled, when the sea rumbled from afar, she would add with a grave voice:
"Holy Virgin, have pity on our poor children over yonder on the sea."
