"Good day, Miss!" said he, and brushed his cap from his head.
The same explanation touching the sailor's presence was then given to Bertha that I have given to you,—given as the whole party were welcomed into the plain little house by its very far from plain mistress.
"Do you remember faces, Mistress?" said the sailor to Doome.
"Yes, friend sailor."
"Do you remember them for six years?"
"La! no woman can remember for six years," said Doome.
"I think you could, Mistress," said the sailor.
And thereupon the stout little Doome blushed and curtsied.
Meanwhile the bride was thinking of the young Frenchman, and how she could keep her secret, with half the town at the house and about it, as there would be in another half-hour. She thought more of the young stranger every moment, and especially when she gazed upon her future,—which seemed to grow more disagreeable each time she looked at it.
The young sailor, keeping his eyes away from Bertha,—who set to work drawing a huge mug of beer, in which piece of hospitality Jodoque hoveringly helped her,—and addressing himself to Doome, said,— "Do you know, I was nearly snapped up by a shark some months ago?"