"I had the vanity and pride of imagining myself beloved of Nominoë. Alas! I know it; I am his own cousin; often did we sleep together, as children, in the same cradle; but I am only a poor, ignorant girl, while Nominoë is clever and cultured like a clerk. He has traveled and seen distant countries. He and my uncle Salaun Lebrenn are the best mariners of Vannes. They own their own vessel. They are rich, compared to my father, who only has his forge and a few gold coins that he deprived himself of for my sake." Tina paused and then proceeded in a tone of bitter self-reproach: "Oh, what I have just said is not right—it is a wrong to Nominoë. He desert me out of avarice! No! no! His heart is too generous for that. Seeing how much I loved him, he took pity upon me. He feared to grieve me if he did not love me. He is so good! Yes, last night, as he thought of his coming here to-day to take me for his wife, he must have realized that he loved me only out of compassion. That is the reason of his absence!"
"Nominoë to put such an affront upon you! upon your father! upon your family!" cried the grandmother interrupting Tina. "My child, you are losing your senses! What nonsense, to imagine such cruel things simply because your bridegroom is a little late in coming! Return to your senses!"
"Why," remarked Janik, "I can easily guess the reason of his delay. It must be the fault of the Baz-valan. That Paskou the Long, the longest and most talkative of all tailors that I have ever seen, must have had the notion of composing a new song in honor of your wedding, and he is trying to commit it to memory. That is the reason of the delay. But they must now be on the way."
Suddenly Tina, who, unmindful of the consoling words with which her grandmother and friends strove to allay her fears, did not remove her fixed and moist eyes from the deserted Mezlean road—suddenly Tina seemed electrified; she rose, uttered a slight cry of joy, and, transfigured and radiant, stretched out both her arms towards an object in the distance. The shock of joy, the sudden revulsion from despair, caused her to turn pale and stagger. She leaned upon her grandmother, embraced her effusively, and muttered in a voice that gladness seemed to choke: "Nominoë is coming! There he is now! There he comes!"
The bride's friends crowded to the window. At a distance they saw the front ranks of the nuptial procession descending the slope of the highway, preceded by the Baz-valan, who bestrode his little white horse and held aloft the sprig of broom in blossom. Tankeru entered at that moment, announcing gaily:
"Attention! There comes the procession! Are you ready, my little daughter? What! Your nuptial ribbons are not yet tied in your hair!"
Only at that moment did the blacksmith notice the pallor of Tina's face, and the traces of recent tears in her eyes. Turning to the grandmother, uneasy and even alarmed, he inquired: "Mother! What has happened? The girl has been weeping. She weeps—and on such a day as this! What is the cause of her grief?"
"Good father!" answered Tina to whose plump and chaste cheeks the roses were rapidly returning, "I was crazy! A sad presage oppressed me this morning, despite myself. The procession was delayed so long in coming—I thought Nominoë had deserted me!"
"Fire and flames!" cried the blacksmith, his face assuming an ominous appearance. "Such an outrage!" But immediately interrupting himself he addressed his daughter in a tone of affectionate reproof: "It is you, dear child, who, surely without intending it, wronged Nominoë and his father, the husband of your mother's sister, in believing them capable of breaking faith."
"Friend Tankeru, they are waiting for you!" said one of the peasants, stepping into the room. "The Baz-valan has alighted. He has knocked twice at the house door. Cousin Madok, in his capacity of 'Brotaer,' is going to answer the summons of Paskou the Long. The one is as pert as the other. The answer will match the demand."