Well, sir, we all three remained with our noses in the air looking at the letter, as if it was going to speak to us. What struck me a good deal was, that the sun, which slipped in through the skylight, was lighting up the glass of the clock, and showed up the big red seal, and the other little ones, like the features of a face in the midst of the fire.
“Wouldn’t you say that its eyes were jumping out of its head?” I said to amuse them.
“Oh! my friend,” said the young wife, “it looks like spots of blood.”
“Pooh! pooh!” said her husband, taking her arm, “you are wrong, Laura; it looks like a circular to announce a wedding. Come and rest, come along; why does the letter trouble you?”
They ran away as if a ghost had followed them, and went up on deck. I remained alone with the big letter, and I remember that as I smoked my pipe I kept looking at it, as if its red eyes held mine fast, sucking them in as a serpent’s eyes do. Its great pale face, its third seal, bigger than the eyes, wide open, gaping like the jaws of a wolf ... all that put me in a bad temper; I took my coat and hung it on the clock, so as not to see any more either the time or the brute of a letter.
I went to finish my pipe on deck. I stayed there till nightfall.
We were then off the Cape Verde Islands. The “Marat” was shooting along, sailing before the wind, at ten knots, without inconveniencing herself. The night was the finest I have seen in my life near the tropic. The moon was rising above the horizon, as large as a sun; the sea cut it in half, and turned quite white like a sheet of snow covered with little diamonds. I looked at this as I smoked, sitting on my seat. The officer of the watch and the sailors said nothing, and like me watched the shadow of the brig on the water. I was pleased at hearing nothing. I like silence and order. I had forbidden any noise and any fire. I caught a glimpse, however, of a little red line almost under my feet. I should have flown into a rage at once; but, as it was coming from my little “convicts,” I wanted to make sure of what they were doing before I got angry. I had only the trouble of stooping down, and I could see, through the big skylight, into the little room: and I looked.
The young wife was on her knees, saying her prayers. There was a little lamp that threw its light on her. She was in her nightgown; I could see from above her bare shoulders, her little bare feet, and her long fair hair, all dishevelled. I thought of drawing back, but I said to myself: “Pooh! an old soldier, what does he matter?” And I continued watching.
Her husband was sitting on a little trunk, his head on his hands, watching her as she prayed. She raised her head upwards, as if to heaven, and I saw her big blue eyes wet like those of a Magdalene. While she prayed, he took the ends of her long tresses and kissed them noiselessly. When she had finished, she made the sign of the cross, smiling as if she were entering paradise. I saw that he made the sign of the cross like her, but as if he were ashamed of it. In fact, for a man it is odd.
She stood up, kissed him, and stretched herself out the first in her hammock, into which he lifted her without a word, as you put a child into a swing. The heat was stifling; she felt herself pleasantly lulled by the motion of the ship, and seemed already to be falling asleep. Her little white feet were crossed and raised to a level with her head, and her whole body wrapped in her long white nightgown. She was a dear, she was!