What did all this matter to her? She had gone mad in her grief, she had nothing left to offer to others in distress. Huddled on a bench, she sat before him with eyes glazed, as one dead, not answering him, not hearing him, not even looking at him. What were these things to her that the man was saying! He understood it all; he divined why the door had been opened to him so quickly, and he had pity for the pain he had brought about. He stammered out an apology: Just so; he ought never to have disturbed her--her especially. “I!” replied Gaud quickly, “and why not I, Fantec?” Life had returned to her suddenly, for still she did not want to appear despairing before the eyes of others--for that she was quite unwilling. And besides, in her turn she pitied him; she dressed to accompany him and found strength to go see his little child. * * * * * When she returned to throw herself upon her bed, at four o’clock, sleep laid hold upon her in a moment, for she was utterly fatigued. But that moment of immense joy had left upon her mind an impression which, in spite of all, was persistent; she awoke soon with a shudder, rising a little, as remembering something.... She had some news concerning her Yann.... In the midst of this confusion of ideas which came back to her, rapidly she searched and searched her mind for what it could have been. Ah! nothing, alas, nothing but Fantec! And a second time she fell back to the depths of the old abyss. No, in reality, nothing was changed in her morbid, hopeless waiting. Still, to have felt Yann there so close was as if some emanation from him had come floating back to her; it was what they call in Breton land a token; and she listened still more attentively for footsteps outside, divining that some one would perhaps come who would talk to her of him. And indeed, when the day broke, Yann’s father entered. He took off his cap, pushed back his beautiful white locks, which were in curls like those of his son, and sat down beside Gaud’s bed. His heart too was in agony, for his Yann, his splendid Yann, was his first-born, his favorite, his glory. But he did not despair, not really, he did not despair yet. He began to reassure Gaud in a very gentle way: to begin with, the latest ones to return from Iceland had all spoken of the extremely dense fogs which might easily have delayed the vessel; and then too an idea had come to him: a stop-over at the Faroes, which are islands situated on their route, at a great distance; and when they sent letters from there, they took a long time to come; the same thing had happened to himself forty years ago, and his poor dead mother had already had a mass said for his soul.... And such a good boat, was the _Léopoldine_, and all those aboard were such able mariners.