And Gaud, seated at the foot of the cross, remained there, in the midst of these tranquil scenes, gazing ever before her, until the night fell, until she could see no more. * * * * * September had passed. Gaud could no longer take any nourishment, she could no longer sleep. She remained at home now, and sat crouching with her hands between her knees, her head thrown back and leaning against the wall behind. What was the good of getting up, what was the good of going to bed? When she was too much exhausted she threw herself dressed upon her bed. Otherwise she always remained seated, benumbed; her teeth chattered with cold, in her stony quiet; always she had that sense of a band of iron round her brows; her cheeks felt drawn, her mouth was dry, with a feverish taste, and at times a raucous groan rose from her breast, spasmodically repeated again and again, while she beat her head against the granite wall. Or else she called Yann by his name, very tenderly, in a low voice, as if he were quite close, and whispered to him words of love. Sometimes she would think of other things besides him--of many little, insignificant things; she would amuse herself, for example, by watching the shadow of the china Virgin and the holy-water basin lengthen slowly over the high woodwork of her bed as the sun went down. And then the thoughts of anguish returned with more horror, and her cry broke forth again while she beat the wall with her head. And so all the hours of the day passed, one after the other, and all the hours of the evening, and all those of the night, and all those of the morning. When she had reckoned how long it was since he ought to have been back, a still greater terror laid hold upon her; she wished to forget all about the dates and even the names of the days. * * * * * Usually there are some indications concerning the wrecks off Iceland: those who return have seen the tragedy from afar; or else they have found some wreckage, or a dead body, or have some sign from which to divine the facts. But no, of the _Léopoldine_ nothing had been seen, nothing was known. The men of the _Marie-Jeanne_, the last to have seen her on the 2d of August, said that she was to have gone on fishing farther towards the north, and beyond that the mystery was unfathomable. Waiting, always waiting, without knowing anything. When would the moment come when she truly need wait no longer? She did not even know that; and now she almost wished that it might be soon. Oh! if he was dead, let them at least have pity enough to tell her!