There was about her something candid, something wholesome which it did you good to see. It seemed to me that she was exactly what I should have looked for if it had fallen to me to choose for my brother Yves.
[CHAPTER XXXIX]
Chance had brought the two together, one day when she was on a visit to her godmother in Brest.
The lover lost no time, and she, won over by Yves' manly air, by his honest, winning smile, had been induced to consent—not without a certain uneasiness, nevertheless—to this precipitate marriage, which was going, for a start, to make her a widow for some seven or eight months.
She had a little fortune as they say in the country, and was going to return, as soon as we had left, to her parents' home in her village of Toulven.
Yves confided to me that they were expecting the arrival of a child.
"You will see," he said. "I bet that he will arrive just in time for our return."
And he embraced his wife, who was weeping. We departed. Once more we were going to cruise in the blue domain of the flying fish and dorados.
[CHAPTER XL]
15th November, 1877.