young Paridael saw again this morning, in the prosaic costume of a landlubber, in the stifling factory of Cousin Dobouziez! How did that happen?
In spite of his passion for the "big pond" and for dangerous but ennobling adventures which banished from him all vile and narrow thoughts, Tilbak had resigned himself, for love of Siska, to doff his tarry brogues, his blue cotton jersey, his oilskin sou'wester, and to set foot upon dry land. The friends had married. From their savings they bought a little food-shop for sailors in the sailors' quarter. Siska ran the shop, and Vincent had just taken the position of foreman with Monsieur Doubouziez, having been recommended by his former captain, who had become very fond of his brave topman.
"And Siska?" young Paridael kept asking.
"Prettier than ever. Master Lorki—Master Laurent, I should say, for you are a man now … How happy she would be to see you! No day goes by that she does not talk about you to me. During the three weeks that I have shipped here, she has asked me at least a thousand times whether I hadn't seen you, whether I didn't know what had become of you, how her Lorki looked, for, by your leave, she continues to call you by the name you were called by when your late dear father was alive. But, confound it, I did not know who would give me any information. These bourgeois here—excuse my frankness—have something about them that takes away any desire to talk to them. Really, he isn't a very comfortable person, that Captain Doubouziez! And the other! A regular old field marshal! But here you are, anyhow, so tell me quickly what to say to Siska! And when will you come to see us?"
