"Ah! you feel that? It is because you are also Breton. Yes, we have our sorrow—it is in the voice of the sea. Not only the lament of the crierien,* but the warning that always at our doors there waits an enemy as cruel as it is remorseless. Yet to-day——"
* Unburied dead, drowned at sea.
"To-day we will not think of the sighings of ghosts or the weepings of widows to be. I prefer your romance."
"And I. But the sorrow is there, and now——"
She was thinking of the tales Louise had told her that morning.
The shadow of the Terror eclipsed the possible sunshine of the present.
But Morice was not one to see coming shadows. The present for him; and his pulses were stirring as they never had before.
"You are teaching me," he said suddenly.
She smiled.
"Yes; and you are clever. But Père Mouet would do it better than I."