_Midday._ The dockyard, the ships are emptying, becoming deserted as on days of holiday. Everywhere the sailors may be seen on their way out for the day, all very smart in their clean Sunday clothes, brushing off with eager hand the least trace of dust, adjusting for one another their large blue collars. Walking briskly they soon reach the gates and press forward into Brest. When it comes to the turn of those on the _Sèvre_ Yves appears with the others, well brushed, well washed, and very bare about the neck, in his best clothes. "Yves, where are you going?" He gave me an angry glance such as I had not had from him before. It seemed to defy me and I read in it still the fever and bewilderment of alcohol. "I am going to join my friends," he said. "Sailors from my country, whom I have arranged to meet, and who are expecting me." Then I attempted to reason with him, taking him aside, obliged to say what I had to say very quickly, for time pressed, obliged to speak low and to maintain an appearance of complete calm, for it was necessary that the others who were standing quite near us should not know what was passing. And I began to feel that I had taken a wrong road, that I was no longer myself, that my patience was exhausted. I spoke in the tone which irritates and does not persuade. "I am going, I am going, I tell you," he said at the end, trembling, his teeth clenched. "Unless you put me in irons to-day, you will not stop me." He turned away, defying me to my face for the first time in his life, and moved to rejoin the others. "In irons? Very well then, Yves; in irons you shall be." And I called a sergeant-at-arms, and gave him out loud the order to lead him away. Oh! the glance he gave me as he turned away, obliged to follow the sergeant-at-arms who prepared to take him below, before all his fellows, to descend into the hold in his brave Sunday clothes! He was sobered, assuredly; for his gaze was penetrating and his eyes were clear. It was I who hung my head under this expression of reproach, of sorrowful and supreme amazement, of sudden disillusion and disdain. And then I went back to my room. Was it all over between us? I thought it was. This time I had lost him indeed. I knew that Yves, with his obstinate Breton character, would not return; his heart, once closed, would never open again. I had abused my authority over him, and he was of those, who, before force, rebel and will not yield. I had begged the officer on duty to let me continue in charge for this day, not having the courage to leave the ship--and I continued my endless walk up and down the deck. The dockyard was deserted within its high walls. There was no one on deck. The sound of distant singing came from the low-lying streets of Brest. And, from the crew's quarters below, the voices of the sailors of the watch calling at regular intervals the _Loto_ numbers with the little jokes usual among sailors, which are very old and always gain a laugh.