The white veil was fluttering above her like the
wings of a sea-gull. And suddenly she disappeared
behind the lighthouse. At the bottom of the jetty
the sea splashed back and forth like a child's cradle
rocked by a nurse who hums a lullaby, and the sky
was cloudless; it was stretched above the motionless
surface of the water like a huge flowing curtain of
light muslin.
The young lady was not long in coming back. She passed so near that her dress almost brushed against me. She was blond; I should have liked it better if she were dark as Juliette was. She walked away, left the jetty, took to the village road and pretty soon I saw only a white veil which seemed to say: "Goodbye, goodbye! Don't be sad, I shall come back."
In the evening I asked Mother Le Gannec about her.
"That's demoiselle Landudec," she replied, "a very excellent and well deserving girl, friend Mintie. The old gentleman is her father . . . They live in the big chateau on the Saint Jean road. You know which one I mean. . . . You have been there several times."
"How is it that I have never seen them?"
"Ah! Lord! . . . That's because the old man is always sick and the girl stays at home to take care of him, the poor thing! Undoubtedly he must have felt better today and she took him out for a walk."
"Hasn't she got a mother?"
"No. Her mother has been dead for quite some time."
"Are they rich?"
"Rich? Not so very! But they help everybody . . . If you only went to mass on Sunday you would see the kind young lady."
That evening I remained to talk with Mother Le Gannec much longer. I saw the kindly lady again
