And as he gazed his face assumed an expression of infinite tenderness; and the hope came to me that this little child might one day be his safeguard and salvation.
[CHAPTER XLIX]
In the evening after supper, we went for a walk, Anne, Yves and I, a walk much more peaceful than that of the day.
And, at nine o'clock, we sat down by the side of a wide road which traversed the woods.
It was not yet dark, so prolonged in Brittany are the evenings in the beautiful month of June; but we began, nevertheless, to talk of phantoms and the dead.
Anne said:
"In winter when the wolves come we can hear them from our home; but sometimes ghosts, too, utter cries like theirs."
On this particular evening, however, we only heard the passing of cockchafers and stagbeetles which flew through the warm air in eccentric curves, and the small buzzings of summer. And, also, from a distant part of the wood: "Hoot! . . . Hoot . . ." a mournful call, given out very softly in the voice of an owl.
And Yves said:
"Do you hear, brother? The parakeets of France are singing." (This was an allusion to the parakeet he had on the Sibylle.)