"Le Gannec was the best fisherman in Ploch and the most daring seaman on the entire coast. There was none whose fishing boat was better equipped, none who better knew reefs abounding with fish. Whenever a fishing boat dared out in stormy weather it was sure be the Marie Joseph. Everybody held him in high esteem not only because he was courageous but because his conduct was beyond reproach and worthy. He shunned the cabarets like a pest, detested drunkards, and it was an honor to be of the same mind as he was. I must also tell you that he was the commander of a life boat. We had two boys, friend Mintié, strong, well-built and able, one was eighteen years old and the other twenty, and the father expected both to be brave seamen as he was.... Ah! If you had only seen my two handsome boys, friend Mintié! Things were coming along nicely, in fact so nicely 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 Herbaudière. 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." While I was thinking: "Perhaps she is dressing now. Maybe she is still sleeping, worn out during the night."