He stood aside as they entered, closed the door behind them, and then lifted a piece of old canvas thrown over a lighted lantern.
[Chapter 6]: Afloat.
Jules Varlin held the lantern above his head, and took a good look at his visitors.
"You will pass very well for young fishermen, messieurs," he said, "when you have dirtied your faces and hands a bit, and rubbed your hair the wrong way, all over your head. Well, come in here. My wife is waiting up to welcome you. It is her doing that you are here. I should not have agreed, but what can one do when a woman once sets her mind upon a thing?"
He opened a door. A woman rose from her seat. She was some years younger than her husband.
"Welcome, messieurs," she said. "We are pleased, indeed, to be able to return the kindness you showed to my brother."
The fisherman grunted.
"No, Jules," she said, "I won't have you say that you haven't gone willingly into this. You pretended not to, but I know very well that it was only because you like to be coaxed, and that you would have done it for Jacques' sake."
"Jacques is a good fellow," her husband replied, "and I say nothing against him; but I don't know that I should have consented, if it had not been for you and your bothering me."
"Don't you believe him, monsieur. Jules has a good heart, though he likes pretending that he is a bear.