The pilgrims passed, their large rosaries about their necks; behind came two infirm old women, who, for their part, had not been cured, and who were being carried in men's arms.
The following morning old Corentin, Anne and little Pierre, in their Sunday clothes, accompanied me in Pierre Kerbras' wagonette to the station at Bannalec.
In the compartment I entered two English women were already installed.
Little Pierre, his happy face the colour of a ripe peach, was lifted up to the carriage window to kiss me good-bye, and he burst out laughing at the sight of a little bulldog which the women carried in their blazoned travelling-bag. He was sorry enough that I was going away; but this little dog in the bag seemed to him so comical that he could not get over it. And the old ladies smiled also, and said that little Pierre was "a very beautiful baby."
And this was the last of Brittany for a long time; I had spent some twenty hours there, and, on the following morning, it was already far away from me.
[CHAPTER XCVI]
A Letter from Yves
"MELBOURNE, September, 1882.
"DEAR BROTHER,—I write to let you know we have reached Australia; we have had a very fine voyage and to-morrow we are to leave for Japan; for, you know, we have had instructions to pay a visit to that country.
"I found here two letters from you and two also from my wife; but I am looking forward to the one you will write me when you have been to Toulven.
"Dear brother, your successor on board is just like you; he is very considerate with the sailors. As regards Mr. Plunkett's successor, he is rather severe, but not with me; on the contrary. Mr. Plunkett told me he would recommend me to him when he left and I think he must have done so. The others and the second-in-command are still the same; they often speak to me of you and ask me for news of you.
"The captain has called upon me to act as boatswain since we buried poor Marsano, of Nice, who was found dead one morning in his hammock at the réveillé. And I like the work very much.
"Dear brother, the men have twice been allowed to go ashore, at San Francisco, and you will be glad to know that, with you away, I have not even given in my name to go with them. As a matter of fact, on the second night, the topmen had a great row with some Germans, and knives were used.
"I have also to tell you, dear brother, that your name has not yet been removed from above the door of your room, and I think it must have been quite forgotten. And in the evening I make my way along the spar-deck for the pleasure of seeing it.
"Next year, when we return, I hope I may have a long leave to go and see my wife and my little Pierre and my little daughter; but it will be all too short in any case, and I shall never have any real leisure until I get my pension. On the other hand, when I am old enough to put aside the blue collar, my little Pierre will be thinking of going to sea himself in his turn; or perhaps there will be a place for me a little farther away, in the direction of the pond, near the church; you know what place I mean.
"Dear brother, you think I am taking my note from you? But no, I think as I have always thought.
"As for the 'coco-nut heads'[6] I fear I must give up all idea of them, for we shall not touch Caledonia; but perhaps, later on, I may be able to return and buy some. If you should pass by the Gulf of Juan, you would give me great pleasure if you would go to Vallauris and obtain for me two of those candlesticks which they make there, and which have owls' heads on them (the parrots of France, you know). I should like very much to have some in my home. I am very eager, brother, to furnish my little house.
"Among the many things which make me sad when I awaken in the morning, that which grieves me most is the thought that my mother cannot be persuaded to come and live at Toulven. It seems to me that if I could get leave and go to see her, I should certainly be able to induce her to come. But, against this, I should then have no one belonging to me at Plouherzel; and that again is a thing I cannot bear to contemplate; for after all Plouherzel is our home, you know. If I could believe what you have often told me on the subject of a life after death, then, assuredly, I could still be contented enough. But it seems to me that you yourself do not believe very much in it. Funnily enough, though, I am afraid of ghosts, and I rather think, brother, that you are afraid of them, too.
"I ask you to forgive these dirty sheets I am sending you, but it is not altogether my fault that they are in this condition. As you know I no longer have your desk now to write my letters on like an officer. I was writing to you peacefully enough at the end of my night watch on the lockers in the bow, when the idiot Le Hir came and knocked over my candle. I have not time to copy out my letter neatly as sometimes I do, in the way you have praised. I am writing hurriedly and I ask you to forgive the hasty scrawl.
"We are leaving at daybreak to-morrow for Japan; but I will send my letter by the pilot who is coming to take us out.
"Your affectionate brother,
"YVES KERMADEC.
"Dear brother, I cannot tell you how much I love you."
[6]Very ugly human heads made by the convicts in Caledonia out of coco-nuts, in which they fix eyes and teeth and hair. Yves wanted them for his staircase at Toulven.