FERNAND CALAVETTES
 
 a
 
 SHE PRESSED MORE CLOSELY THE HAND OF HER LITTLE BROTHER. 
 
 Frontispiece.
 
 A FISHER GIRL OF FRANCE 
 
 FROM THE FRENCH OF 
 
 FERNAND CALMETTES 
 
 WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY THE AUTHOR 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 DODD, MEAD & COMPANY 
 PUBLISHERS
 
 COPYRIGHT, 1892, 
 
 BY 
 DODD, MEAD & COMPANY. 
 
 All rights rtserved.
 
 TABLE OF CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER i ....... PAGE I 
 
 2 "7 
 
 3 "i? 
 
 4 "27 
 
 5 "38 
 
 6 "46 
 
 "7 - "55 
 
 8 "66 
 
 9 "74 
 
 10 "85 
 
 " "93 
 
 12 " 102 
 
 13 "109 
 
 14 ..." 119 
 
 "15 " 129 
 
 16 "138 
 
 "17 "148 
 
 '8 "157 
 
 19 "165 
 
 20 " 172 
 
 "21 " 180 
 
 22 "195 
 
 23 "205 
 
 24 "216 
 
 "25 ....... " 222 
 
 26 . . . . . . . " 229 
 
 27 "241 
 
 " 28 "256 
 
 29 " 265 
 
 "30 "274
 
 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 FACING PACK 
 
 SHE PRESSED MORE CLOSELY THE HAND OF HER 
 
 LITTLE BROTHER, ..... Frontispiece 
 
 THE " BON-PECHEUR" SPED GLADLY NORTHWARD, . . 12 
 
 THE JUG BETWEEN His FEET, 26 
 
 ALL THE FORTUNE OF THE CREW FLOATED WITH THE CUR- 
 RENT 38 
 
 THE WHITE NIGHT SEEMED TO PENETRATE ins HEART, . 50 
 
 NEAR HER, A SAILOR CALLED OUT, 70 
 
 A SAD RETURN, ....../. 84 
 
 SHE SAW THE LITTLE VILLAGE WITH THE WHITE HOUSE, . 88 
 
 THE OLD WOMAN BARRED THE DOOR, .... 100 
 
 SHE QUICKENED HER PACE, PRESSING HER HEAVING CHEST, 104 
 
 THE NEXT NIGHT ELISE SAW HER FATHER AGAIN, . 128 
 
 SHE WOULD SEE AGAIN THOSE SHE LOVED, . . 140 
 
 HE WAS HAPPY BECAUSE HER CONFIDENCE HAD RETURNED, 162 
 
 " ARE You GOING TO WAIT THERE UNTIL You ARE DRY," 170 
 
 " FATHER, IF You WILL HELP I WILL FIND You," . 192 
 
 HE UTTERED A SERIES OF MODULATED BARKS, . . . 212 
 
 His RIGID FINGERS STOOD OUT STIFFLY, . , . 238 
 "CALM YOURSELF, ELISE, WE SHALL MAKE THE OTHERS 
 
 LAUGH," 252 
 
 SHE HAD PICKED UP SOMETHING TO DEFEND HERSELF, 262 
 
 SHE WISHED TO CARRY HIM AVVAV . 284.
 
 A 
 
 FISHER GIRL OF FRANCE. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 TO-MORROW at daybreak they will go aboard 
 together, Elise Henin and her little brother Firmin. 
 They have put on their Sunday clothes to say fare- 
 well to their mother, who sleeps on the slope of the 
 dune in a corner of the old graveyard. Nine years 
 has the poor woman lain there in the peace of her 
 last sleep deaf forever to the noise of the tempests 
 which roused her so often, of old, to the vigil of anx- 
 ious nights. 
 
 She went from the cares of life a long time before 
 her husband. He was swallowed up by the sea, 
 which never gave back his body. One night, when 
 the wind was not high one hardly knows how it 
 came about he was caught in a fatal current and 
 was lost, with his boat and six companions, in the 
 wild eddies of the most dangerous shoal on that 
 coast. In some shelter for shipwrecked sailors, 
 beneath the wave, he is waiting for a day, perhaps 
 not distant, when a mighty tempest shall stir the 
 depths and, opening his prison of sand, return his 
 body to earth again.
 
 2 A FISHER GIRL OF FRANCE, 
 
 His death brought ruin to his family. Although 
 he was a skipper, yet his boat was all he owned. 
 Earning more or less at the risk of the tides, he was 
 returning from a profitable cruise with a happy 
 heart and a full purse, for he had sold his fish at a 
 good price at the market of Boulogne. The sea had 
 all in its grip man, boat, and earnings. 
 
 From the road that climbed the dune one could 
 see the spot beneath one on the horizon. The 
 color of the sea was lighter there than over the 
 depths, and the rays of the sun made it glisten with 
 a silvery sheen. It seemed so smiling that one 
 would have declared it harmless. 
 
 Elise stopped as her thoughts wandered to that 
 accursed gulf. She pressed more closely the hand 
 of her little brother, as a mother who fears for her 
 child's safety. 
 
 For it was she who had brought him up, this 
 twelve-year-old brother, whom she loves for his 
 sturdy figure and his robust health. She has had 
 one idea only, that of making him a good sailor. 
 It was she who sang him sailors' songs to put him 
 to sleep when little ; it was she who carried him, 
 hardly awake, along the dune crests to show him the 
 far-off ships and to direct his first look to what was 
 going on at sea. It was she, too, who took him to 
 the harbor that he might play among the rigging. 
 
 Then, when they were old enough, they had gone 
 with their father on his boat, learning to handle it. 
 Elise knew as much about fishing as a sailor. Her 
 father was very proud of her. He had her always 
 aboard, and it was a miracle that she had not been
 
 A FISHER GIRL OF FRANCE. 3 
 
 lost with him. But that week she had been kept at 
 home, because Firmin was ill. She wished to take 
 care of him herself, and would not trust him to 
 strange hands. And so they had become orphans, 
 sister and brother, without protection and without 
 bread. 
 
 But to-day their fortune seemed assured. They 
 had been engaged on a sloop for the coming herring 
 fishery. Elise had persuaded the skipper, her cousin 
 and godfather, to take them on his boat notwith- 
 standing the prejudice which sailors in petticoats 
 generally inspire. She was as strong as a man and 
 asked less wages, and this was so much in her favor. 
 
 For herself it was enough that she was to be with 
 her brother, apart from whom she would have been 
 too unhappy to live. 
 
 "I am proud of you," she said gayly, "you will 
 make a fine ship's boy. I was afraid to remain at 
 home alone. Come, make haste, we have still many 
 things to arrange for our departure." 
 
 And with a lengthened step she hurried the boy 
 along the sandy dune road. It was high noon. 
 The strong June sun, directly overhead, darted down 
 its burning rays, but the young girl did not appear 
 to feel them. Lithe and alert, she moved along, 
 with figure erect and back slightly arched, in all the 
 vigor of her nineteen years. 
 
 Her graceful contour stood out distinctly against 
 the sky. It had little of that masculine strength 
 that marks savage beauties, but under her brown 
 corset and gray skirt one could divine the clear-cut 
 outline which distinguishes the purer races.
 
 4 A FISHER GIRL OF 1- RANGE. 
 
 Hurrying her brother along, she soon gained the 
 crest of the dune; then she stopped abruptly, with 
 an involuntary start, for at the turn of the road she 
 saw before her the figure of a strapping young fel- 
 low, his arms swinging as he walked, and his face 
 pale and a little sad. 
 
 "You have frightened us, Silvere. It is not the 
 time for a stroll. Are you expecting any one?" 
 
 "Yes, you, Elise. I had an idea that you would 
 come here, and I ventured, in order to have a last 
 word with you. Is it decided that you are to sail 
 to-morrow?" 
 
 "Certainly ! we have to earn our bread." 
 
 "If you would but consent, I would manage to 
 earn enough for us both. Elise, it breaks my heart 
 to see you injure yourself with men's work." 
 
 "What would you have? I know no other, nor 
 have I a taste for any other." 
 
 "If you would marry me, you would have only to 
 keep the house. Will you make me wretched by 
 refusing me again?" 
 
 "Silvere, I do not wish to give you pain, but it is 
 not right of you to urge me always against my duty. 
 I have told you my determination. I do not intend 
 to marry until the day when my little Firmin shall 
 be of an age to be a real sailor. It is my duty to 
 help him, since I am the same as his mother." 
 
 "We would aid him together." 
 
 "No, he would not be at all happy if he knew that 
 he was an expense to another. And then, I am 
 ambitious that he should become a skipper as his 
 father was. I could not give myself up to this if I
 
 A FISHER GIRL OF FRANCE, 5 
 
 married you. When one has a house one should 
 devote one's self to it." 
 
 "Then you leave me no hope?" 
 
 "As I have told you, wait. Give me time to 
 bring up the child. I will not refuse after that." 
 
 "All the same, it is a long time to wait." 
 
 Elise had not let go the hand of her brother, 
 which she held pressed in her own. She felt it 
 stirring, tugging. 
 
 "What do you wish, my little man, what troubles 
 you?" 
 
 "Bend down, I wish to whisper to you." 
 
 And his lips raised toward his sister's ear, in a 
 grumbling tone the lad told his trouble. He did 
 not wish his sister's marriage to be put off on his 
 account. He was old enough to go to sea alone. 
 He pressed his point with an energy one would not 
 have expected in a lad of his years. As he spoke 
 he put on a resolute air, and under his close-cut hair 
 his strong features expressed so vigorous a will 
 that Elise was much disturbed. 
 
 "You are a brave boy, but you are too young to 
 go without me. Never mind. I shall not be un- 
 happy as long as we are together and you love me." 
 
 With her sweetest look she smiled at the lad, then, 
 turning toward Silvere, she gave him her hand. 
 
 "Silvere, since our engagement is to be long, 
 come with me to the graveyard. Let us exchange 
 our vows over the grave of my mother." 
 
 And pensively, without speaking further, she 
 walked on, supported on one side by her lover while 
 on the other she led her brother.
 
 A FISHER GIRL OF FRANCE. 
 
 The graveyard was near at hand. Above its low 
 wall could be seen, lost among dusty tamarisks and 
 brambles already turning brown, some stone tombs 
 and some crosses of worn-out wood, tottering and 
 almost uprooted by the west wind. It was well 
 called the field of the dead, for under the pitiless 
 sun it seemed a desert indeed. Silvere stopped 
 short at the melancholy sight. With an uncon- 
 scious gesture, he held back the young girl. 
 
 "Elise, do not let us plight our troth here. It is 
 too sad." 
 
 "Nevertheless, come. Mother will not be happy 
 if we fail in respect. I have no one but her to ad- 
 vise me, since my father is beneath the sea." 
 
 Along the narrow footpaths she led the young 
 man to the highest point of the cemetery, where 
 there was the least shelter. There, in a forgotten 
 corner, a slab, defaced and broken at the corners, 
 alone marked the spot which the children knew to 
 be their mother's resting-place. 
 
 "Mother," said Elise solemnly, "since our dead 
 father's soul is no more with us, it is thy wish which 
 
 1 would obey. Make thy soul pass into mine." 
 And on her knees beside Silvere, their two hands 
 
 joined, she waited for the mother's blessing to pen- 
 etrate her heart. 
 
 An alkaline vapor rose from the overheated soil, 
 and came suffocatingly to their nostrils. Silverc 
 had a feeling of faintness. He rose, trying to lift 
 Elise, but for some time still she remained at 
 prayer, invoking on her brother and herself the pro- 
 tection of the dead.
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 IT was hardly daybreak when Elise and Firmin 
 appeared on the wharf, pushing before them a 
 wheelbarrow, on which were their sailors' kits. 
 They were the first to arrive. The tide had gone 
 out and, aground in the mud, the sleeping boats 
 seemed to await in the silence of the dawn the hour 
 for waking. Such of them as were being made 
 ready for sea could be told by the marks of recent 
 overhauling and their newly tarred rigging. Here 
 lay the Bon-Pecheur, a sloop, broad in the waist but 
 tapering gracefully, and well-designed to cut the 
 waves. All was in order on deck. The closed 
 hatches showed that supplies were stowed away and 
 everything ready. 
 
 Elise stopped short. From the head of the wharf, 
 across the masts and rigging, she could perceive the 
 Bay of Somme, which the sun was just softly light- 
 ing up. Since her childhood she had known this 
 great clear bay, with its gray outlines softening 
 away into fog. She would not see it again that 
 night. Every day she had come faithfully to give 
 it a look. She loved it, not only when the tide was 
 high and it reflected the brightness of the heavens 
 in its palpitating waves, but when, though bare at 
 low tide, it was still beautiful, with its banks of red
 
 8 A FISHER GIRL OF FRANCE. 
 
 sand and its streams of water winding through it to 
 the great sea. 
 
 Each day she had seen on the opposite bank the 
 outline of the town of Saint- Valery, raised like a 
 fortress on a rock of verdure. Then she had turned 
 her happy eyes toward her own modest fishing 
 hamlet, which, on this side of the bay, sheltered itself 
 discreetly behind the sandy dunes. She would see 
 none of these things that night. She loved them 
 truly, as one loves one's birthplace, but she loved 
 also the great sea which, four miles away, marked by 
 a crystal line, all white with foam, the limit of the 
 bay. Elise had often crossed that line in her fa- 
 ther's boat, and during three years of fishing she had 
 been accustomed to sea life, but she had never 
 quitted the waters of the English Channel, and it 
 was in new seas that she was to be through the long 
 hard-worked months of a fishing cruise. Her breast 
 swelled with longing and a vague inquietude, and 
 she let her thoughts wander toward that infinity of 
 heaven and water. 
 
 The sands of the bay disappeared little by little 
 under the rising tide, whose surface, swept by rip- 
 ples, announced a steady breeze. It was an' excel- 
 lent omen. In less than six days they ought to be 
 on the fishing-grounds, a hundred miles north of 
 Scotland. 
 
 But, coming back to the thought of her departure, 
 Elise went down from the wharf to the sands, and 
 deposited her burden just under the bows of the 
 Bon-Pccheur, and, while Firmin went to return the 
 wheelbarrow, she seated herself on her sack, her
 
 A FISHER GIRL OF FRANCE. 9 
 
 hands joined, her thoughts wandering to the far-dis- 
 tant region with which she was to make acquaint- 
 ance. Absorbed in her revery, she did not hear 
 heavy steps behind her, and started under a strong 
 hand which struck her familiarly on the shoulder. 
 
 "Elise, you are earlier than the tide. They are 
 good sailors who rise before the fish." 
 
 "Should it not be so, Cousin Florimond? One 
 must take trouble if one wishes to escape it." 
 
 "You are right. That is a good sailor's rule. Do 
 you know, you look very well under your new sou'- 
 wester? The keenest eye could hardly tell you 
 from the other sailor lads." 
 
 "I will be a man when work is to be done, Cousin 
 Florimond. I have no fear of work." 
 
 "Parbleu ! All will turn out well if your Firmin 
 does not show himself obstinate. He is a little 
 inclined that way. He does not always do as one 
 tells him." 
 
 "Have no fear, Cousin Florimond, he will obey 
 you as willingly as his father. Surely, that is one's 
 duty to the skipper." 
 
 "Surely. Besides I shall not favor him more 
 than any other. Fishing is hard work, but it makes 
 good sailors. In three seasons he will understand 
 his business. Then you will be able to leave him 
 alone and talk of a husband. A husband is never 
 lacking to a worthy girl." 
 
 Then, with that rolling step which sailors affect so 
 much on land, the skipper walked to the boat's 
 stern. He seemed to step with the whole weight of 
 his body upon the ground, but hardly had he felt the
 
 io A FISHER GIRL OF FRANCE. 
 
 guards of the sloop under his hand than he recovered 
 his agility, notwithstanding his great leather boots 
 and his oil-suit. Taking advantage of the rudder- 
 post and of the sloping side of the boat, in three 
 tugs of his arms, and four steps, he hoisted himself 
 on deck. And there, striding about, he was truly 
 superb with his tall figure, his broad shoulders, his 
 curving chest, his strong arms, and his sturdy back. 
 The sailor is beautiful only on his boat. 
 
 At that moment Florimond had the bearing 
 which inspires all leaders at the hour of action. He 
 inhaled long draughts of the breeze, and with keen 
 eye he examined the sky to see the signs of the 
 weather. 
 
 "Look then, Elise, the weather seems not half 
 bad. One never lies idle when one works with the 
 breeze. Hand over the sacks." He stretched his 
 arm out to receive them, and then, lying down flat, 
 reached down, seized the girl with both hands and, 
 raising himself all at once, lifted her on deck. 
 
 "Now you are one of the crew, Elise. If the 
 others are disagreeable, I will protect you. Every 
 man has his rights on a boat." 
 
 "Thanks, Cousin Florimond, but, as long as I do 
 my work without flinching, they will have no reason 
 to speak ill of me. If they are disagreeable, I will 
 defend myself." 
 
 "Shall not I be there to make them hold their 
 tongues?" said a little voice, behind the young girl, 
 a boy's voice, bold and confident. It was Firmin, 
 who had returned. He planted himself, with his arms 
 crossed and his head thrown back, before his sister.
 
 A FISHER GIRL OF FRANCE. 1 1 
 
 
 
 "There is one man who talks against us. I have 
 heard him ! I will make him eat his words." 
 
 And as if to defy the enemy he awaited, he looked 
 resolutely at the hamlet. 
 
 From it the sailors were coming in a body, their 
 wives and children with them They walked silently 
 beside a cart,which made its way slowly under the 
 weight of their kits. When they reached the boat, 
 there broke out at once the noise of getting aboard 
 and the shouts of farewell. For the tide was begin- 
 ning to lick the keel of the Bon-Pecheur, and the 
 women and children ran for safety to the wharf 
 where, crowded together, they awaited her depart- 
 ure. Softly the sea lifted the sloop, which floated 
 like a sea-gull on the wave. 
 
 "Hoist the jib and the staysail. Hoist the jig- 
 ger." And the canvas, forward and aft, spread itself 
 as if to try the breeze. 
 
 "Trip the anchor!" And the chain, as the anchor 
 came home, ground against the gunwale. 
 
 "Hoist the mainsail!" Two hundred and twenty 
 yards of canvas rose in air by force of hand. All 
 tugged together, Elise among the rest. Knowing 
 that she was watched she strained every nerve ; her 
 body grew rigid at the work. "Oh! hiss!" Her 
 voice sounded clear above the hoarse shouts of her 
 companions. "Oh! hiss!" The pulleys groaned 
 under the ropes, and the great sail hung ready to 
 take the wind. 
 
 "Give her a full." The topsails snapped out. 
 All the canvas was trimmed to catch the breeze, and, 
 set in motion by a shift of the helm, the Bon-Pecheur
 
 12 A FISH EX GIRL Of-' FRANCE. 
 
 * 
 
 sped gayly northward in tJie freshness and purity of 
 the morning. 
 
 But a small boat hailed them. A rope was 
 thrown, and Silvere, climbing up it, quickly reached 
 the deck. He walked straight to the skipper, and in 
 a rough tone explained the reason of his coming. 
 He had an account to settle with Barnabe. 
 
 Barnabe was called. He was a hap-hazard sailor, 
 half landsman half seaman, such as are engaged for 
 the herring fishery. 
 
 An unruly wag and a great bungler at work, he 
 had not his equal in gathering a crew about him to 
 listen to his bluster. He was brave when occasion 
 called for it, through vanity, and he had acquired 
 the reputation among the fishermen of a man who 
 feared nothing. Although his character was known, 
 he was engaged from force of habit. When one has 
 to choose among landsmen, one man is as good as 
 another. 
 
 His quarrelsome tongue spared no one. Scarcely 
 had he learned of Elise's engagement than he began 
 to trouble the whole village with his threats. Was 
 it right to allow women to steal men's work? 
 Theirs would be strong arms to handle the canvas in 
 the teeth of a squall! And the night before, in an 
 outburst of drunken speech, he had made threats. 
 They would see if he would allow his bread to be 
 eaten by this Lison. He would rather send her 
 head-first overboard. 
 
 As soon as he was awake that morning Silvere 
 had heard these threats, and, changed as they were 
 in passing from mouth to mouth, they alarmed him
 
 THE "BON PECHEUR" SPED GAILY NORTHWARD. 
 
 Chap. 2.
 
 A FISHER GIRL OF FRANCE. 13 
 
 greatly. His character was sweet and thoughtful; 
 he had thus a tendency to exaggerate the worst 
 side of things, and, lost in fear for Elise, he had run 
 to the pier, but too late. Then he had thrown him- 
 self into his boat, urging it on in order to overtake 
 the Bon-Pecheur and prevent trouble. Like all 
 gentle men, he had over-excited himself that he 
 might appear more strong. When he saw himself 
 face to face with Barnabe, he raised his voice, to 
 intimidate him. 
 
 ' You were talking of Elise last night. If you 
 dare to trouble her, I will make an end of you when 
 you return." 
 
 "Where do you get a right to defend her? Is she 
 your wife? She is not in love with you, I fancy, 
 you old tub with gaping seams." 
 
 "I speak, because we are betrothed." 
 
 "She has promised herself to you, you great 
 snuffer of the moon? She has, then, a fancy for 
 sallow men only." 
 
 "Be quiet, great blackguard, or I will take down 
 your conceit." 
 
 "Don't try it, I have my stingers to defend me." 
 
 And Barnab showed his fists doubled up for 
 attack. Small, but thickset and muscular in propor- 
 tion, he squared himself on his short legs before the 
 tall man who stood before him, taken aback by his 
 uncertain movements. 
 
 A fight appeared imminent. The deck was 
 nearly deserted, the greater part of the crew busy- 
 ing themselves in arranging their effects in the 
 forecastle. Two men stationed in the bow took no
 
 14 A FISHER GIRL OF FRANCE. 
 
 notice, busy as they were in managing the jib, while 
 astern, the sailor at the jigger, while he handled his 
 sheet, looked on and laughed like an amateur of fisti- 
 cuffs. He seemed truly happy at this unexpected 
 exhibition which was coming off so near him. As 
 to the skipper, not being able to leave the tiller, he 
 swore and threatened ; then, despairing of silencing 
 the adversaries, he tried to drown their voices, and 
 shouted his orders at his loudest. 
 
 "Ready to come about. Let go the jib-sheet." 
 
 And the boat tacked, drawing away at right 
 angles to avoid a perilous set of the current ; but all 
 the same the quarrel continued, more clamorous and 
 more deafening. 
 
 "Great child of misery, sailor by sufferance, you 
 gape in the seams. You should be careened and 
 calked." 
 
 "Wretched landlubber, ship's cook, you should 
 remain in your pantry. The fish which has gone 
 ashore is spoiled for the sea." 
 
 "Speak for yourself, you badly salted codfish." 
 
 "Wretched worm." 
 
 In vain the skipper shouted : "Keep away to star- 
 board." The men no longer heard him, and the jib, 
 remaining as it was, forced the boat in an exasper- 
 ating fashion to port. The skipper broke out in 
 fury, stamping excitedly, and leaning forward 
 shouted : 
 
 "Enough, Silvere, I cannot steer the boat. We 
 are at the harbor bar." 
 
 His shouts mingled with those of the sailor astern, 
 who was urging Barnab6 on.
 
 A FISHER GIRL OF FRANCE. 1$ 
 
 "Hou ! Hou ! Little one, take a reef in the big 
 fellow's sail! He is going to run. Overhaul him 
 amidships." 
 
 Barnabe, as if obeying these suggestions, 
 squared himself like an athlete throwing out his 
 defiance. 
 
 "Come alongside a little, old wreck. Look out 
 for the grapnels." 
 
 "I am not afraid of you, you are like a fish, strong 
 in the head only." 
 
 And among these clamors the useless calls of the 
 skipper : 
 
 "Quiet there! Thunder! We are sagging off a 
 point. We shall strike. Starboard !" 
 
 But his orders did not reach the bow, so thor- 
 oughly were they cut off by the torrent of angry 
 words which came clamoring forth like the noise of 
 a tempest. And above all this tumult could be 
 heard the voice of the sailor astern : 
 
 "Hou! Hou! Little one, overhaul the big 
 fellow amidships ! He is too tall-masted, he will be 
 weak in squalls. Capsize him ; turn him keel up- 
 ward." 
 
 Barnabe" advanced with his fists thrust forward. 
 But in an instant Silvere's great hands came down 
 upon him, sent him rolling over and over even to 
 where the sailor stood, picked him up again like a 
 beaten dog, and, holding him over the boat's side, 
 shook him above the yawning abyss beneath. 
 
 "Let go," bawled the sailor at the jigger, laughing 
 uproariously; "let go; he is fat enough to float 
 alone."
 
 1 6 A FISHER GIRL OF FRANCE. , 
 
 Silvere still kept shaking him. 
 
 "Barnab, swear never to do any harm to Elise. 
 Swear, or I will drop you." And his two hands 
 tightened their grip. 
 
 Barnab uttered a cry like that of a wounded 
 beast a cry which cut the air with its shrillness. 
 From the forecastle came hurrying all the sailors, 
 snatched from their work by this despairing appeal. 
 Elise was foremost. She took in the situation at a 
 glance; rushing to the guards she caught hold of 
 Barnab, and with a half turn of her arm threw him 
 on the deck at the skipper's feet. 
 
 But at the same instant without a shock, gently, 
 like a porpoise as he rises, the Bon-Pecheur lay over 
 on her side. 
 
 "Aground; Thunder!" and the skipper's shout 
 went like a shiver through the crew. The pressure 
 of the wind on the sails pressed the keel still further 
 into the sand. "Let go all!" And in an instant 
 every sail was flapping, and the Bon-Pechcur lay 
 still, lying well over, a sight at once laughable and 
 pitiable, like a stranded whale. 
 
 Then, indeed, there were outbursts of rage on the 
 deck. Silvere and Barnabe were threatened. Elise 
 was accused. It was her fault. Was not the skip- 
 per forewarned? Women are always the cause of 
 trouble. And Florimond thought to himself that 
 perhaps the sailors were right.
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 THEN followed a tedious waiting. 
 
 At first thought, the situation did not appear very 
 serious. If the Bon-Peckeur could not get off unas- 
 sisted, she could easily be drawn into deep water by 
 a few turns of the wheels of a tug. By good for- 
 tune the bar on which she had stranded was so hard 
 that there was no fear of those shifting sands, which, 
 now washed away, now washed back again, end by 
 piling themselves up about a boat and holding her 
 fast in their clutch. 
 
 In still days one could have slept there a year 
 through without running more danger than in one's 
 bed ; but the Southern sky did not promise settled 
 weather. There was a look that betokened the 
 presence of wind, and, if it should rise, it would bring 
 on a heavy swell in a quarter of an hour, and in that 
 case the Bon-Pecheur would be rolled about like a 
 cask. 
 
 Silvere had gone off in his boat, charged to take 
 the necessary steps to summon a tug from the near- 
 est point possible. It was early morning when he 
 left. They had watched him until he had reached 
 the wharf, and then, from the numbers crowded 
 together on the end of the quay, could tell that the 
 alarm had been given. But now night was ap- 
 proaching. Time enough had passed to account
 
 1 8 A FISHER GIRL OF FRANCE. 
 
 for any ordinary delays, and the men of the Bon- 
 Pcelicnr, standing about on the deck, watched the 
 sea anxiously. 
 
 Florimond was the most impatient of all. Climb- 
 ing on the gunwale he searched the horizon with his 
 glass. Steamers passed and repassed, staining the 
 sky with their train of smoke, but all held an un- 
 changed course, far away from the Bon-PccJicnr. 
 Not one of them looked like a tug, with its gray hull 
 and red band. 
 
 At the same time the -threatened wind from the 
 south began to rise, and with it came a heavy and 
 laboring swell. Florimond could not contain him- 
 self longer. He strode from bow to stern, dis- 
 tracted between the coming danger and the belated 
 succor. 
 
 Seated at the foot of the mast, Elise abandoned 
 herself to melancholy thoughts. Although in no 
 way responsible for their running aground, she felt 
 after all an indirect responsibility. It was a 
 wretched beginning of a sailor's life for her. 
 
 She had her arm about Firmin and the two, sister 
 and brother, in their attitude of distress, seemed like 
 shipurjcked mariners. When he cast his eye on 
 them in his restless walk about the deck, Florimond, 
 thinking of the sloop perhaps lost, and of the ruin 
 which he laid at their doors, gave them a surly look 
 of disapprobation. And all the crew, sharing the 
 skipper's feeling, contemptuously left them alone. 
 
 Barnab was triumphant. He went among the 
 men, exciting them against Elise. Why should 
 they not demand at once that this creature of ill-
 
 A FISHER GIRL OF FRANCE. 19 
 
 luck be put ashore. Her nets should be kept to 
 make good the injury of which she had been the 
 cause. As he talked, he turned toward Elise with 
 threatening gestures. 
 
 Firmin could not keep down his anger. He freed 
 himself from his sister's arm and advanced, his little 
 fist clenched. 
 
 "Have you not had enough, Barnab6? I will 
 give you as much more as you wish." 
 
 But the landsman knew this time that he was 
 backed by the others. He would risk his revenge. 
 With foot and hand he sent the child reeling heavily 
 against the bulwark. There was a hard dull thud as 
 he struck. Elise sprang to her feet, and ran to her 
 brother's help. It was the signal for an outburst. 
 The men, mad with anxiety, were by this time ready 
 for anything. They came headlong at Barnabe's 
 cry. 
 
 "Let us make an end of this Lison ! She eats our 
 bread! She sends her lover to shipwreck us! 
 Overboard with her!" 
 
 And losing their heads at his outcries, full of 
 desire for vengeance, without stopping to think, the 
 sailors closed around their victim, each man invol- 
 untarily stretching out his arms to seize her. On 
 her knees, bent forward, Elise hid her pale face 
 between her arms, while she covered Firmin with her 
 body. Then she closed her eyes, to escape the sight 
 at least of death. Her fingers dug themselves into 
 her blouse. She felt herself dragged, then lifted up 
 and carried along; she had a feeling of space, a fear 
 of the yawning gulf. Resigned, without hate and
 
 20 A FISHEK GIRL OF FRANCE. 
 
 without bitterness, she gave way to her distress and 
 murmured : 
 
 "Farewell, dear Firmin, I am going to our father!" 
 Suddenly she felt herself falling. She 'struck on 
 the boat's edge, then, half stunned, fell headlong into 
 the sea. Entangled in the folds of her oilskin dress, 
 she struck out blindly like a drowning cat. It 
 seemed to her as if a gulf opened beneath her, and 
 that brutal laughter and jeering outburst from over- 
 head sought her out and followed her, even under 
 the wave. Her ears hummed, her eyes opened de- 
 spairingly, the water in her throat strangled her. 
 Then, vaguely, came a supreme desire to live; she 
 was in a last revolt at this wrong of destiny, which 
 forced her to die before her time, and splashing 
 'unconsciously, she came to the surface again. It 
 was for an instant only, merely time to draw one 
 more breath of air and life. Then, and this time 
 without hope and nearly without consciousness, she 
 sank under her own weight. 
 
 What freshness! what peace! Her temples beat 
 less strongly, and her chest rose and fell quietly, as 
 her breath came and went. Who, then, had seized 
 her and snatched her from nothingness? All her 
 senses came to life again. What was this? Oaths 
 and bad language ! Tonnerre ! School of sharks ! 
 Pirates ! 
 
 She opened her eyes. She was on the deck, and 
 bending over her a young blond sailor, with eyes 
 like the gray of the skies, and with a pleasant voice, 
 watched her with a respectful admiration.
 
 A FISHEK GIRL OF FRANCE. 21 
 
 "Mam'selle Elise, it is I, Chretien; do you recog- 
 nize me? The rascals would have drowned you, like 
 a fly in a great cup. I was just in time to save you." 
 
 "Sharks! Pirates!" Then Elise saw Florimond, 
 armed with a grapnel, striking right and left among 
 the sailors. Near her, by the side of the uncon- 
 scious Firmin, she discovered Barnabe stretched 
 senseless, his forehead slashed with blood. 
 
 "Firmin, my child!" 
 
 At that instant, at a sinister whistling in the rig- 
 ging, there was a sudden outburst. 
 
 "The wind! It is coining to destroy us!" 
 
 Elise raised herself. Tottering still, she kept her 
 feet by a strong effort of will. With an uncertain 
 step she reached Firmin, collected all her energies, 
 and, finding her strength come back as she put it to 
 the test, raised the boy in her arms and carried him 
 to the forecastle. There she put him into a bunk, 
 covered him warmly, and tucked him in well. 
 Then, dripping still, without waiting to put on dry 
 clothes, without taking breath even, she hurried 
 back, to be ready for anything in facing this new 
 assault of death. 
 
 A great wave was advancing at frightful speed, 
 threatening to engulf the sloop under its mass. Its 
 crest, white with spray, was hardly a hundred fath- 
 oms away. The sailors ran to and fro, arms in air 
 like crazy men, except Florimond, who, counting 
 only on the jigger, held himself ready. 
 
 "A man to the helm ! Keep to starboard !" 
 
 Whoever took the tiller would meet all the force 
 of the wave. What of that ! Elise ran forward.
 
 22 A FISHER GIRL OF FRANCE. 
 
 "No, not the girl ! Tonnerre ! She is too weak 
 in the arms." 
 
 But the wave was now not more than twenty 
 fathoms away. There was no time for hesitation. 
 Elise stayed at her post. 
 
 "Hold hard ! Tonnerre ! " 
 
 The sailors clung desperately to the ropes. The 
 wave broke over them. 
 
 "Courage, Lison, port, port ! Tonnerre / " 
 
 With all the strength of her muscles, with all her 
 might and main, Elise threw her weight on the 
 tiller. The sloop careened in a mad plunge, as if she 
 was lying down to die. The masts almost touched 
 the water. Everything rolled about the deck, the 
 flying rigging, the ropes, and the body of Barnabe. 
 The men were up to their waists in water. Elise 
 kept her footing. Then a new uproar! Everything 
 again afloat ! The sloop righted, careened, plunged ! 
 A blow harder than any yet drove her forward. As 
 she righted, she lay on an even keel. She was 
 afloat. "Hoist all sail!" As if giddy with joy, 
 swept onward in safety by the wind, the Bon-Pecheur 
 darted forward, forgetting all past dangers. 
 
 Proud of her flowing sail she was off, weathering 
 buoys and beacons, coming about according to the 
 currents. She had such a frenzy of speed that she 
 hardly saw the tug, which was soon far astern. It 
 came too late with its gray hull and red band, and 
 see-sawing on its paddles, kept on its course to find 
 the wreck that was a wreck no longer. 
 
 And presently, the Bon-Pfaheur, having passed all
 
 A FISHER G:RL OF FRANCE. 23 
 
 present danger, ran northward before the wind 
 under full sail. 
 
 Behind her the Bay of Somme was no more than 
 a white speck. The dunes of St. Quentin and those 
 of Berck melted into a blue line. The heights of 
 Etaples and the cliffs of Boulogne appeared and 
 disappeared in their turn, then the sands of Gris- 
 Nez and then nothing more, nothing but the sea 
 which, now lighted by the rays of the setting sun, 
 soon grew dark under the shadows of night. 
 
 When she saw the Channel behind them and dan- 
 ger at end, Elise left the tiller to return to the fore- 
 castle, where she could be with Firmin. The boy 
 had recovered consciousness. He had no wound. 
 The shock of the blow alone had upset him. 
 
 If a sailor has a little fever, he is badly off in his 
 close and ill-ventilated quarters under deck. They 
 are but one great room, occupied in common. Eat- 
 ing, drinking, and cooking go on there, and round- 
 about gape the sleeping bunks. There is no air. 
 Daylight comes only through the opening to the 
 deck. The hatch serves at once as a door and a 
 window. When the weather is bad it must be 
 closed, and nothing can be worse than the air in that 
 confined little place. It is flavored with fish chow- 
 der, soiled clothes, grilled onions, and tobacco 
 smoke. Seated about on their chests, some of the 
 sailors manage their potato soup and fish between 
 two whiffs of a pipe, while, in the bunks, those who 
 have the next watch are sleeping two by two. 
 
 Ordinarily at this time, one hears nothing but the
 
 24 A FISHER GIRL OF FRANCE. 
 
 noise of eating and the snoring of the sleepers. 
 When he is not working the sailor is little of a 
 talker. But on this night, at each roll, a groan broke 
 the half silence. It came from Barnab, who had 
 been picked up half dead, and put in the last bunk, 
 to get well or die, as his lot might be. 
 
 Never be ill on a fishing boat. A plank without 
 mattress or coverings makes a hard bed. Sailors 
 have kind hearts, but it is a matter of pride with 
 them to appear insensible to suffering of their own 
 or of others. And for the dolorous moans of a 
 wounded man they have no more ears than for the 
 lamentations of an old woman. It is a tradition 
 among them that a man should die without making 
 a noise. 
 
 Elise felt otherwise. She was a woman, and, 
 though fate had made her take up a man's work, 
 she was born, like other women, to nurse and to heal. 
 She was stirred to the bottom of her heart at each 
 wail of the wounded man, whose condition she 
 could imagine. They had slipped the unhappy 
 wretch, without giving him further attention, into a 
 bunk in which ordinarily two men slept together to 
 keep each other warm, and there he rolled about at 
 the caprice of the waves. The blow of the grapnel, 
 which the skipper had dealt him, had laid his fore- 
 head open, and the pitching of the sloop kept his 
 wound raw by grinding it against the plank. 
 
 Twenty times had Elise wished to run to his help, 
 but Firmin's hand was in hers, and he held her fast 
 at every attempt. 
 
 "You are not kind, Firmin. I will not be gone
 
 A FISHER GIRL OF FRANCE. 25 
 
 long. You are molly-coddled. You have only to 
 go to sleep. It is Barnabe's turn to be helped." 
 
 "No, he has been too hateful to you. Your help- 
 ing him will not prevent his making you wretched." 
 
 But a rougher blow made the boat shake, and a 
 more heartrending wail came from the last bunk. 
 Elise freed her hand. 
 
 "Let me go, Firmin, I do not love you when you 
 are selfish." 
 
 She went directly to the bunk where Barnabe lay 
 groaning. Nothing could be seen in that dark hole. 
 She called for help. It was Chretien who came 
 Chretien, the young blond with the pleasant voice. 
 
 "Hurry, Mam'selle Elise. It will be your watch 
 soon, and you have not slept." 
 
 "One should think of the sick before one's self." 
 
 "If you will let me, I will take your watch. A 
 man runs less risk." 
 
 "Thanks, Chretien, I am not afraid of the fatigue, 
 but I will change my watch with you from neces- 
 sity. I can be useful here. Bring a light quickly." 
 
 Chretien lighted a candle stuck in the neck of a 
 bottle. By its gleam Elise made out the wounded 
 man, who was rolling from side to side, his mouth 
 open, his lips dry. 
 
 Without loss of time she set to work, heart and 
 soul. Going to the bunk, she mopped up the blood 
 from the boards, and hurried for her bags and 
 bundles, which she brought to wedge Barnab6 in. 
 She improvised compresses, and made a bandage 
 and put it on. Then she took the largest bowl, 
 filled it with warm water and rum, and carefully
 
 26 A FISHER GIRL OF FRANCE. 
 
 lifted it to the wounded man's mouth. At the 
 refreshing odor he opened his eyes, sought the drink 
 with eager lips and, his thirst quenched, fell back, 
 throwing at Elise a long look of recognition. 
 
 At the same moment came whistling through the 
 hatch a blast of fresh air, which whirled about the 
 heavy vapors of the place and, passing over the can- 
 dles, put them out, one after another. 
 
 "It is pleasant down here, my lads. On deck a 
 wind to skin the devil." 
 
 And notwithstanding the darkness, Florimond, 
 from old acquaintance with the place, went from 
 bunk to bunk to wake the men of the next watch. 
 
 "Come! Time for the relief. It is the others' 
 turn for the chowder." 
 
 The men shook themselves and stretched their 
 legs. When they had groped about and found their 
 oilskin hats, they made their way among the boxes, 
 and went out through a new inrush of fresh air. 
 
 The others came from the deck to take their 
 places. The hatch was shut again, the candles 
 lighted, and Florimond, seeing Elise, clapped her 
 roisghly on the shoulder. 
 
 "You are a fine sailor! Without the help of us 
 both, the sloop would have wallowed like a dead 
 whale. They did not despise you then, those fel- 
 lows. It was an ugly moment, all the same." 
 
 And without further words, happy in the assur- 
 ance of duty done and a dinner earned, Florimond 
 sat himself down on the chest by the side of Elise, 
 the jug of cider between his feet and the foaming 
 bowl on his knees. Soup tastes better when it has 
 been well earned.
 
 THE JUG BETWEEN HIS FEET AND THE FOAMING BOWL 
 ON HIS KNEES. 
 
 Chap. 3.
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 EVERYWHERE the sea, but not everywhere fish. 
 During the five days that they had been on the 
 grounds, a hundred land miles north of Scotland, the 
 Bon-Pcchenr had spread her nets in vain. She had 
 cast them to right and left, she had followed up 
 boats which were on the grounds before her, but in 
 whatever place, at whatever depth they were 
 stretched, they had caught nothing but the worth- 
 less white-nose herring, who travel in small com- 
 panies. 
 
 It was the black noses that they were after. 
 They are the true travellers. There are millions in 
 a single school. 
 
 The herring often reveals his presence by his 
 peculiar odor, by his oily trail, and by his peeping 
 and chirping, for he makes a noise like that of rain 
 falling on water. The Bon-Pecheur had neither seen 
 nor heard anything. 
 
 Florimond was in despair. He kept the men 
 putting out and taking in the nets without cessation. 
 On a stretch many thousand feet long they would 
 take nothing but a hundred white noses ; those bony 
 troublers of the nets who were not worth salting. 
 The men became unreasonable, and showed their 
 disappointment by their negligence and by their 
 carelessness at work. They wished to go further
 
 *8 A FISHER GIRL OF FRANCE. 
 
 north. Perhaps the fish were belated. It would be 
 better to go to meet them than to wait. 
 
 Florimond would not yield. They were in the 
 latitude where the herring showed themselves every 
 year at this time. They would see them if they 
 kept a sharp lookout. The men were not con- 
 vinced, and the longer their search proved useless, 
 the less hesitation had they in showing their dis- 
 content. 
 
 Elise, on the other hand, displayed great zeal in 
 backing Florimond in this fight against bad luck. 
 She won in this way the ill-will of the crew, who 
 accused her, without ceasing, of flattering the skip- 
 per and encouraging him in his obstinacy. First 
 and foremost with her was duty. She would never 
 allow Firmin to hesitate to obey an order. Often 
 when she found him dilatory, or kicking at the sail- 
 ors' taunts, she would coax him back to obedience 
 and good humor, two things which a sailor should 
 never lack. 
 
 When she had a chance, she looked after Barnabe. 
 At first she had taken the time from sleep to watch 
 him. When she was not free herself, when she 
 was on duty, she sent Firmin to see if the wounded 
 man needed drink or to have his wound dressed. 
 
 The lad, less forgetful of injuries, lent himself 
 with a bad grace to these generous actions. Elise 
 scolded him, and tried to punish him by a severe 
 look, but she was quickly disarmed before his square 
 face, which took on a comic pretence of being 
 frightened at her reproof. 
 
 In fact, without Elise, Barnab would have died
 
 A FISHER G'/A'L Ol< FRANCE. 29 
 
 of neglect. In his overworked life the sailor cannot 
 take care of his fellows, since he has all he can do to 
 find time for eating and sleeping. But as Flori- 
 mond said, women know how to spin out the time, 
 and for Elise the moments seemed to stop short, so 
 much care did she give him and so heartily. 
 
 Barnabe knew what it cost her, for thanks to her 
 and his strong constitution he was nearly well. He 
 had not yet been on deck, but was about the fore- 
 castle, which he filled with his sonorous voice. 
 When his companions came in he seized on them 
 and called them to witness the merits of Elise. 
 He praised her with the same violence with which 
 he had slandered her, never failing to exclaim that 
 she was worth the whole crew, skipper included. 
 He had heard them tell how she had taken the helm 
 when they were aground, and he did not hesitate to 
 declare to every one that without her they would 
 have been biting the sands at the bottom of the sea. 
 
 He said so much and said it so noisily, this brawl- 
 ing Barnab6, that Florimond became impatient of 
 hearing it, and was offended at seeing his authority 
 as skipper weighed in the balance against the pres- 
 tige of a young girl. They would be saying next 
 that Elise alone had saved the boat. Child as she 
 was, would she have been able to withstand such a 
 blow had he not softened the shock by his play of 
 the jigger sail, at the risk of being carried away with 
 the canvas? 
 
 He would not acknowledge it to himself, but he 
 was jealous at witnessing this growing reputation of 
 a stranger on his own boat. He took care that
 
 3 A FISHER GIRL OF FRANCE. 
 
 Elise should not be on duty when there was a 
 chance for her to show her courage or strength. 
 He affected to consider her a weak and feeble creat- 
 ure, in order to belittle her in her standing as a sailor. 
 He spoke to her in a tone of fatherly consideration. 
 
 .'You do not sulk over the work, Lise, but you 
 have not strength for it. It is not to be expected 
 that you should. It would be unreasonable to 
 demand as much work from you as from the 
 others." 
 
 "But, Cousin Florimond, do I not work hard 
 enough? I try to let no one see a difference." 
 
 "I do not say no, but a strong arm cannot be had 
 by wishing. A woman has never a man's strength." 
 
 Elise revolted against this undeserved censure. 
 She turned pale and the tears rushed to her eyes, 
 but she held them back that no one might see her 
 trouble. 
 
 "Do you think I have been a failure through lack 
 of strength, cousin? What will become of me, if 
 you do not stand my friend?" 
 
 Florimond was a better man than appearances 
 made him out. He had the highest opinion of 
 Elise, but he did not wish it to be seen by the crew, 
 and, embarrassed at his own injustice, he broke off 
 his talk abruptly. 
 
 "Come, Lise! Talking is not everything, we 
 must work. The nets must be set, it is the slack of 
 the tide." 
 
 The quarter of an hour of rest which the sea takes 
 at the changing of the tide comes, in that open sea, 
 two hours after it comes on the coast. It is the
 
 A FISHER GIRL OF f RANGE. 31 
 
 best time for fishing, for there is no movement of 
 the water, nothing to sweep the fish from the net. 
 
 The almanac announced the slack for that morn- 
 ing at nine o'clock. It was then six. It was high 
 time to begin their preparations. 
 
 The soundings showed conditions that the her- 
 ring fancy; forty fathoms of water over a bed of 
 gravel. The breeze was favorable. Though very 
 light, it had kept up fairly fresh since the last squall. 
 The sea was not quite smooth, and yet had not 
 enough swell to trouble the fish. It was after the 
 full moon and, according to all signs, the fish ought 
 to swim high. 
 
 Florimond took a sharp look at the weather and, 
 having taken counsel of his experience, gave out his 
 orders with the full force of his lungs. 
 
 "Come then, my lads, all on deck. Get the floats 
 ready." 
 
 These floats are barrels to which the net is fas- 
 tened when it is set. Around the middle of each 
 are some ten turns of rope of a fathom's length 
 each, and this is let out or taken up according as it 
 is desired that the net shall lie high or low in the 
 sea to intercept the fish. Overhauling the floats is 
 the first thing to be done. They are brought from 
 where they are stored, their ropes are arranged at 
 the proper length, and they are piled up on deck to 
 be at hand the moment they are needed. 
 
 But one would have said that the skipper had not 
 been heard. Elise alone stepped forward. All the 
 other hands stayed in the forecastle, silent and 
 motionless, as if they were obeying a command.
 
 3 2 A FISHER GIRL OF FRANCE. 
 
 Nevertheless the hatch was half open, and there 
 was nothing to prevent his voice reaching those for 
 whom it was meant. Florimond repeated his order 
 in a rough tone. He was not more successful than 
 before. Then he ran to the hatch, and with a blow 
 of his foot forced it wide open. Bending over the 
 gaping hole, and making a trumpet of his two 
 hands, he shouted with all the strength of his lungs: 
 
 "Do you hear me, deaf ears? All on deck! Get 
 the floats out !" 
 
 His shout resounded menacingly; the boarding 
 of the forecastle vibrated ; but the men did not 
 move. 
 
 "Have a care! I am going for a marline-spike; I 
 will warm your legs, if you are frozen there! Have 
 a care ! Tonncrrc ! " 
 
 Then there was a movement in the place, a noise 
 of words rapidly interchanged in a lo\v tone, and of 
 steps coming from all sides. One by one, silently, 
 mechanically, as if moved by the same thought, the 
 men climbed the hatchway ladder and massed them- 
 selves on the deck, firm, resolute, all crying at the 
 same time: 
 
 "There is no use in fishing here any longer. You 
 are making us lose the season. We wish to go 
 north." 
 
 Florimond was not the man to allow himself to 
 be intimidated, young as he was. He was barely 
 twenty-five, but he overawed them all by his tall 
 figure and his powerful bearing. He had been a 
 sailor since his earliest youth. He had a trained 
 eye and sound judgment on everything connected
 
 A FISHER G1RI. OF FRANCE. 33 
 
 with the sea. He had the reputation of being one 
 of the best skippers on their coast, and proud of his 
 standing, no threats could make him flinch before a 
 sailor. The men knew him well, and knew that he 
 could hold his own alone against a dozen of them. 
 He looked them over from head to foot, and said 
 haughtily: 
 
 "You know the orders; get the floats ready. 
 Two fathoms of rope." 
 
 "No, we will not set the nets, unless further 
 north." 
 
 "Toanerrel Get the floats, or I will take you 
 back to port. There you can explain your reasons 
 to the Commissaire of Marines." 
 
 The sailors looked at one another. Chretien, the 
 most timid, began to hesitate. The others seized 
 him and forced him back into the ranks. 
 
 "We will duck you, if you turn traitor." 
 
 Elise stepped toward him. 
 
 "Come, Chretien. A sailor's ear should hear the 
 captain's orders." 
 
 He seemed bewildered. He wavered, and his 
 glance went. f rom his comrades to Florimond, as if 
 demanding direction or counsel. All at once he 
 shook his shoulders, stuck out his elbows, and 
 throwing off the hands that tried to hold him back, 
 ran forward to obey. 
 
 For some time Elise had been looking for Firmin. 
 She saw him at last, sheltered behind a group of big 
 fellows, and divined by his frowning brow and his 
 fixed glance that he was in sympathy with the 
 mutinous steps of his companions. With a bound
 
 34 A FISHER GIRL OF FRANCE. 
 
 she was at his side. She took him by the shoulder 
 and drew him away with a movement of maternal 
 authority, at the same time vigorous and wheedling. 
 But the little man was intoxicated by the air of 
 insubordination which was about the deck. He 
 struggled with all the freedom of his obstinate soul, 
 for he did not wish any one to think him a coward. 
 When a man is one of a crew he should share with 
 them all that comes, good and bad alike. 
 
 Elise saw his frowns. And, though he was so 
 amusing, in his determination to mutiny, slje was 
 troubled. She picked him up in her arms, and, 
 pressing him to her breast to prevent his striking 
 her, stemmed his cries, as they came from his 
 mouth, with a kiss. Then she carried him to the 
 very stern of the boat, where Chretien was waiting. 
 
 "Oh, the traitors!" cried the sailors. 
 
 But, disconcerted by these gaps in their ranks, 
 they broke apart and grumblingly set to work. 
 
 Florimond instantly recovered his paternal ways. 
 
 "I know that you are more wrinkled outside than 
 in. Your hearts are good, if your faces are bad. 
 Down with the jib. Furl the jigger-sail." 
 
 At a stroke, in the bows and at the stern, the sails 
 were reefed to give room for work. The time had 
 come to get the nets in shape. 
 
 The nets are great strips of meshes fastened 
 together in such a way as to extend without end. 
 A thick, strong hawser stretches their whole length, 
 to which they are tied and by which they are lifted. 
 Thus made fast they drop into the sea like a great 
 partition, or rather like an open-work barrier across
 
 A FISHER GIRL OF FRANCE. 35 
 
 the way, whose meshes are large or small according 
 to the fish they are intended to catch. They let 
 him pass half way through, holding him at the 
 swelling of the belly. If he tries to back out, his 
 scales hold him fast. Try as he may to free him- 
 self, the fish in the net is a prisoner. 
 
 And this wall of netting can be stretched for a 
 league. It is left in the sea a longer or shorter time, 
 according to the weather. As the breeze was soft 
 and the sea smooth, the skipper wished to take 
 advantage of the calm to try every chance. He 
 ordered that all the nets should be set. It was a 
 fortune which he was trusting to the sea. 
 
 "Come, my lads," he cried, "this time I have an 
 idea that we shall not pull them up empty." 
 
 The day came out warm. At this season, by this 
 hour in the morning, the sun is already high. Its 
 rays beat as hardly as at noon. A heavy atmos- 
 phere weighed on men and things. The work 
 seemed particularly fatiguing to the sailors on the 
 Bon-PecJienr. Setting the nets is, besides, at all 
 times, a long and fatiguing task, which keeps the 
 men working breathlessly for two hours. The boat 
 moves at the speed of a knot and a half, and the 
 nets must be all ready to be thrown over as she 
 goes. 
 
 A part of the crew is stationed at the stern, and 
 each man has his special task. Three or four of 
 them draw out the nets from where they arc stored, 
 passing them from hand to hand to untangle them, 
 and to clear, where they occur along their length 
 at short distances, the cords which fasten them to
 
 36 A FISHER GIRL OF FRANCE. 
 
 the hawser. Thus disentangled the nets are carried 
 to the boatswain, who is the soul of the work. 
 
 He has no time to amuse himself the boatswain. 
 While the nets are drawn by him on the right, the 
 hawser, unrolled on his left, is drawn by a cabin boy, 
 and to this he ties the cords as fast as they appear. 
 
 He is the centre of action. But this day every 
 one seemed lazy. 
 
 Firmin, who handled the hawser, passed it along 
 slowly. Chretien, who was boatswain, showed more 
 languor than was natural. He seemed, by the slow- 
 ness of his work, to wish to recover the standing 
 which he had lost among the men, and to please his 
 comrades he assumed their careless ways. 
 
 Florimond had at first tried to arouse their sleep- 
 ing energy, but he ran against a wall of inertia, and 
 seeing that a bad feeling was springing up, avoided 
 any action which would bring it to a head. He had 
 resigned himself to see the work badly done, and to 
 say nothing. 
 
 Elise, on the other hand, was consumed with im- 
 patience. She was not one of the first set of work- 
 ers, and waited on deck for the time to change shifts. 
 Amid all this bungling it made her especially 
 wretched to see Firmin act like the rest. In vain 
 did she whisper in his ear encouragement, re- 
 proaches, prayers. She was depressed to find, in the 
 lad she loved so well, such an obstinate resistance. 
 
 The hawser and the nets were payed out so much 
 more slowly than the boat sailed, that they were 
 dragged at the risk of tearing them. They, too, 
 seemed impatient at the men's slowness.
 
 A FISHER CIRJ. OF FRAXCE. 37 
 
 Nothing could be more painful to see than this 
 lack of accord between the sloop and the work. 
 Excited and nervous, Elise could not restrain herself 
 longer. She ran to Chretien and pushed him aside. 
 
 "Go ! You have no right to set an example of a 
 bad workman." 
 
 Then she took his place. 
 
 "Come, Firmin, hurry, my little man. Quick, the 
 boat will not wait." 
 
 And setting vigorously to work, waking up the 
 sailors, she seized the cords as they flew past, and 
 tied them to the hawser without stopping an instant. 
 All her figure was alive and in action, as her hands 
 worked. And the nets now went overboard in 
 keeping with the boat's speed. 
 
 Then there was a furor of work on the deck. 
 Everything was forgotten, the heaviness of the 
 atmosphere, the recent discouragement, the spirit 
 of insubordination. All were hurrying to and fro 
 in their enthusiasm. Florimontl only had a feeling 
 of bitterness and gloom. He saw that there was a 
 stronger power than his on the boat. He was now 
 no more than half skipper.
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 Two whole hours the men were busily at work 
 rigging the nets. But finally the last piece of them 
 went overboard, taking with it the last float. 
 
 The main-sail was taken in, while the little stern- 
 sail was spread to keep steerage way on the boat. 
 Then the Bon-PecJicur came into the wind and let 
 herself be towed by the nets, which drifted gently in 
 the current. 
 
 Two men were enough to watch the deck, because 
 the fish catch themselves. The herring do the 
 work, one has only to wait for them. The sailors 
 sauntered back to the forecastle. It was time to 
 eat and sleep. 
 
 But Florimond could not make up his mind to 
 follow them without giving a last look to the fleet 
 of casks, which seemed a line of great birds placed at 
 equal distances like so many scouts. 
 
 All the fortune of the crew floated with the cur- 
 rent. What a risk it was, and, after all, they might 
 catch nothing. Florimond did not feel quite easy 
 in his mind. Perhaps he had been wrong to be so 
 obstinate. The herring is like the sardine. It has 
 no fixed habits, it is here to-day and there to- 
 morrow. Had he been really wise in reckoning on 
 finding them where he was? But what a knock- 
 down blow to a skipper, to be obliged to give way to 
 
 38
 
 ALL THE FORTUNE OF THE CREW FLOATED WITH THE CURRENT. 
 
 Chap. 5.
 
 A FISHER GIRL OF FRANCE. 39 
 
 his sailors! He resolved to yield, nevertheless, if 
 the fish did not put in an appearance at once. 
 
 Full of disquiet, his frowns showed his internal 
 struggles. As far as eye could reach he could see 
 neither trace nor sign of fish. Not a whale, nor one 
 of those voracious birds which follow the herring as 
 their sure prey. Here and there other boats were 
 fishing in the same fashion as themselves. They 
 also had selected the same grounds. If he was de- 
 ceived, others were also. 
 
 Nevertheless there was a chance that the fish were 
 lying under those banks of light mist which, here 
 in the North, blot out half the horizon. Above all 
 things the fishermen hate those heavy fogs which, 
 caused by the heat, come before the season, causing 
 the loss of many a small boat and entangling many 
 a net. It is an ugly piece of work to lift more than 
 two thousand fathoms of nets at such a time. 
 
 In the North the fogs act as if malicious. Flori- 
 mond, since he could not see the fish, tried to smell 
 them, and inhaled a long breath. What was this in 
 the air, this odor bitter-sweet, whose flavor delighted 
 the nostrils of the man who recognized it? 
 
 A sudden thrill of joy ran through the skipper. 
 In his blue eyes flashed sudden gleams, and his com- 
 pressed lips relaxed in a broad smile. With his two 
 hands he made a telescope to see more clearly, and 
 to pierce the mist. 
 
 Was it not scattering? The breeze had without 
 doubt become stronger, and was driving the mist 
 before it like a light smoke. The surface of the 
 sea was clear. Everything became distinct as he
 
 4 A FISHER GIRL OF FRANCE. 
 
 looked the color of the sea, the density of the wave. 
 There lay the oily proof of the herrings' presence. 
 Florimond could see the thick scum whose brackish 
 odor he had smelled. Had he not been right? 
 The school of black noses was here, and this was the 
 right place to spread the nets. 
 
 In two bounds he was at the forecastle hatch, and 
 \\ith all his strength he made it resound with the 
 joyful shout : 
 
 "All on deck a herring scum ! " 
 
 Filled with delight, and drawn by this cry of vic- 
 tory, the men dropped their food, rushing and over- 
 turning one another at the ladder, and holding fast 
 with feet, with knees, with hands. All nostrils were 
 distended, all eyes turned in the direction the skip- 
 per pointed. 
 
 "Was I not right, my lads? Here they are, the 
 black noses, always faithful to their rendezvous. 
 But they are swimming low. It is not hard to 
 understand why, with the half breeze one makes out 
 below there in this last quarter of the moon. The 
 nets are not low enough. Let out three fathoms." 
 
 The sloop's boat was instantly dropped into the 
 sea. Four sailors slipped down a rope into her: two 
 big fellows to row, Chretien to steer, an old hand to 
 let out the ropes. 
 
 "Get on board, boy." It was Firmin they called. 
 He was wanted to aid in the work, and disappeared 
 over the side in his turn. 
 
 Elise tried to follow him. She slid down the rope 
 but the canoe had already its full force. One more 
 would have been in the way.
 
 A FISH EX GIRL OF FRANCE. 41 
 
 "Keep back, Lison, you can go next time. Have 
 no fear; we will take good care of your Firmin." 
 
 Elise was not at all satisfied. The little fellow 
 was so headstrong that, when she did not have him 
 at her side, she was like a mother in distress. Hang- 
 ing on the rope, she called out : 
 
 "Chretien, let me take the helm. It will give you 
 time to finish your meal and to sleep an hour." 
 
 Too late. The oars cut the water, and they were 
 already at the nearest cask. Firmin quickly let out 
 three fathoms of rope and then the boat went on 
 from cask to cask while Elise watched it, as it flew 
 along lifted softly by the swell. 
 
 She was still clinging to her rope, swinging over 
 the water, and in her sadness of heart had hardly 
 thought of herself. 
 
 "Lise, what are you after? Do you want to swim 
 along with them? Your Firmin is lost for a couple 
 of hours only." 
 
 Then reaching down over the side, hauling at the 
 same time on the rope, and lifting Elise, Florimond 
 raised the young girl to the deck. Hardly was she 
 on her feet when she hurried to the gunwale, con- 
 tinuing to follow the boat with eyes anxious and 
 tender. 
 
 "Eh, Lise, it is not healthy in our trade to have a 
 heart so at the mercy of the wave. Why do you 
 look in that direction? It is much better on the 
 other side." And with his arm stretched toward 
 the North, Florimond showed her the oily scum 
 which lay thick on the surface of the water over a 
 space of many miles.
 
 42 A FISHER GlKl. Ol> I-' K A NCR. 
 
 "What a puddle! Have you ever seen it promise 
 as well?" 
 
 He drew Elise forward where she would catch 
 the wind from the scum, and wished her to smell 
 the odor. She distended her nostrils in nervous 
 efforts, as if she was going to inhale all at once 
 these riches which the sea offered. 
 
 "There is more than one mess of fish there. It is 
 a shame that they lie so low. They will not travel 
 at all to-day, at least unless they change their mind 
 after noon. These hunters after adventure are 
 governed only by whims. I do not know what they 
 have seen to make them lie at the bottom. See 
 how the birds dive after them." 
 
 A flight of gray birds specked the sky like a som- 
 bre cloud, but to learn anything from their behavior 
 needed the eye of a sailor, an eye accustomed to 
 grasp, in all the completeness of detail, things most 
 distant and most fugitive. 
 
 Florimond had seen clearly these hungry birds, 
 and it was from them that he knew to what length 
 to drop his net. Flying to a great height and then 
 closing their wings, they let themselves drop head- 
 long with all their weight, so as to dive to the bot- 
 tom of the sea. It is their fashion of catching the 
 fish when he swims low. 
 
 Elise was not at all interested in their doings. 
 Fixed in one spot she watched the changes in the 
 horizon, which now appeared as a straight line, now 
 disappeared softly behind thin and formless vapors. 
 There was a rapid and continuous play as the wind 
 chased, with all swiftness, the gray and transparent
 
 A FISIJR& GIRL O/>' FRANCE. 43 
 
 mist. Then the changing fog formed cliffs, and all 
 at once, breaking out from the circle which bound it, 
 spread like a thick white cloud. The breath of the 
 North congealed into a heavy fog as it left his 
 mighty iungs. 
 
 It seemed like the unfolding of a mighty winding- 
 sheet, ready to bury under its thick woof the infinite 
 expanse of heaven and sea. As if she already felt 
 the cold enveloping her, Elise shivered : 
 
 "Quick, Cousin Florimond, quick, quick; see the 
 fog! I will blow the horn for the boat. How will 
 they be able to find their way back?" 
 
 "They will grope from cask to cask. There are 
 old hands on board ; I have no fear for them." 
 
 "All the same, I would like better to be with 
 Firmin. I will blow the horn. I have an idea that 
 he will recognize my voice." 
 
 While the young girl ran to the forecastle to get 
 the horn Florimond, half stupefied, watched the ap- 
 proach of this white cloud, which immediately envel- 
 oped, in a mournful silence, the school of herring, 
 the sea, the boats, and the men. 
 
 The clamorous birds gave hoarse cries as they 
 flew to and fro, but already the fog hid them from 
 sight. Florimond threw a last glance at the scum, 
 which was disappearing like a fortune snatched 
 away as soon as seen. He saw at the same time 
 the neighboring fishing-boats, which were making 
 haste to take up their nets. Then, close at hand, 
 tacking about, a flambart, which, in its movements 
 to and fro, had less the air of a regular fisherman 
 than of a coaster pressed into the service. Decid-
 
 44 A FISHER GIRL OF FRANCE. 
 
 edly this flambart acted suspiciously. During the 
 last half hour it had sailed from one boat to an- 
 other, and had run along the length of the nets. 
 Its outlines blended into an uncertain mass through 
 the puffs of fog which commenced to surround it. 
 It seemed to broaden, to rise in height, to enor- 
 mously increase in size, and then to vanish like a 
 phantom of darkness. 
 
 Then the veil of fog reached the Bon-Pcchcur, and 
 she was suddenly enveloped with a white night 
 damp, cold and penetrating. Florimond stroked 
 his beard, which was already dripping with wet. 
 He breathed into the dampness to judge of its 
 thickness and resistance, and lowered his glance in 
 order to see exactly how nearly objects close at 
 hand were obscured. 
 
 "It is too heavy to last," he said. "There will be 
 no risk in leaving the nets in the water." 
 
 At this moment, from the bow of the sloop was 
 heard a musical note, a long blast followed by two 
 slower ones. It seemed as if the name Bon-Pccheur 
 had been called out in two plaintive words in the 
 midst of those stifling surroundings. 
 
 Elise was blowing the trumpet with all her might 
 in the direction of the small boat. And when her 
 breath gave out and she stopped to rest, she raised 
 her black eyes and tried to pierce the white cloud, 
 in the hope of being able to discover the dear form 
 for which she was waiting. Then she listened, 
 motionless, thinking that she heard the noise of the 
 oars. 
 
 Could they not hear then, the men in the small
 
 A F1S11LK G1KL OF l-'KAXCE, 45 
 
 boat : Firmin, Chretien, the two big fellows, and the 
 old sailor? Elise blew again. She put all her 
 strength into a far-reaching blast. A heavy sound 
 came back. Could it be an echo from this ocean of 
 fog? It came from another fisherman ; their signals 
 crossed. Could they have out a boat also? 
 
 Then a figure came out of the fog beside Elise, 
 and suddenly, and almost with rudeness, said : 
 
 "Elise, give me the trumpet. It is not a tool for 
 weak chests. You only empty your lungs without 
 making your comrades hear." 
 
 And with a blast that made the deck tremble, 
 Florimond blew into it. His chest was hollowed in 
 by the effort. One would have said the winding- 
 sheet of fog was torn asunder. Two other, three 
 other, horns answered by blasts nearly as sonorous. 
 
 "You can hear more plainly. It is the end of the 
 trouble. Elise, you will soon see your Firmin 
 again." 
 
 But the lull was deceptive. Hardly had the fog 
 lifted when it settled down again, more thick and 
 more damp than before. 
 
 For an hour, while the men in the forecastle took 
 advantage of their enforced idleness to drink, Flori- 
 mond made the air resound with his long blasts, but 
 he only exhausted himself uselessly in these desper- 
 ate appeals. The men in the boat, Firmin, Chre- 
 tien, the two big fellows, and the old sailor did not 
 return. Silently, leaning over the gloomy abyss, 
 Elise looked and listened, listened and looked. 
 Alas! The men in the canoe did not return.
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 THE flambart which Florimond had seen to lee- 
 ward of the Don-PccJieur was not a coaster. It was 
 a boat from some port of Escaut in search of her- 
 ring, but it was manned by one of those mongrel 
 crews, who are less anxious to live by their own 
 work than by stealing. 
 
 The skipper, an old pirate who had sailed to the 
 four quarters of the world, did not lack boldness nor 
 skill. He had a quick eye, could read the weather 
 better than any one, and managed his boat with 
 singular dexterity. No one knew as well as he how 
 to take up his neighbor's nets during the night, 
 shake out the sparkling fish into his bins, and return 
 the nets empty to the sea. When he did not find 
 the fish sufficient booty, he did not hesitate to keep 
 nets also, from which he cut off enormous pieces. 
 
 Like the porpoise he was most active in bad 
 weather, and to assist his thieving, profited by all the 
 treachery of the sea. As soon as he saw the fog 
 coming, he tacked about in such a fashion that, at 
 the moment of his disappearance in the mist, he 
 should be lying to at the further end of the Bon- 
 Pecheurs nets. 
 
 At this very moment the small boat came along- 
 side the float next to the last. The four sailors and 
 the boy had finished their work of overhauling, 
 
 46
 
 A f-ISHER GIRL OF FRANCE. 47 
 
 without any suspicion of the danger which was com- 
 ing down from the north upon them. They had 
 seen the flambart and had kept an eye on it, with- 
 out suspecting it of evil intentions. But, the mo- 
 ment they were imprisoned in the fog, all five of 
 them alike had an intuition of the truth, and laid 
 their heads together. 
 
 They could no longer make out the smallest ob- 
 ject, for everything was blotted from sight. Their 
 hollow voices took on a strange resonance in this 
 thick mist, but their eyes and ears became quickly 
 accustomed to its unreality, and their discussion was 
 as much to the point, as animated and as terse, as 
 if in full sunlight. 
 
 Was it necessary to remain there on guard against 
 the thief? They would risk being crushed under 
 the bow of the flambart. Delay itself in the midst 
 of such a fog would be dangerous. The two big 
 fellows opposed with all their might any such step. 
 They did not own any share in the nets, but had 
 leased theirs for the season. Consequently, they 
 had less interest in defending them. 
 
 Chretien, always good-natured, yielded ; but Fir- 
 min would not. His nets and those of his sister 
 were there. He would not allow a single mesh to 
 be stolen, if he had to mount guard all alone astride 
 of a float. 
 
 The old sailor owned nets, and he, too, held that 
 the boat should remain on guard. The fog would 
 probably lessen. Fogs like this, at the end of June, 
 passed in whiffs, like a puff of tobacco smoke. 
 
 All five of them heard the blasts of horns blown
 
 4& A I-ISHEK GIRL OF FRANCE. 
 
 to guide them back, but these notes of alarm 
 reached them from the four quarters of the horizon. 
 In which direction should they go? By listening 
 intently they made out in the line of the nets a note 
 far distant and rhythmic ; one would have said that 
 it was the name of the Bon-Pecheur which the fog 
 repeated. 
 
 "Turn, Chretien !" rind the big fellows dug their 
 oars into the water. 
 
 "No!" and the old sailor and Firmin clung des- 
 perately to the cask. 
 
 Chretien hesitated between the two, but the calls 
 of the Bon-Pecheur became more frequent, more 
 plaintive, more pressing. 
 
 "Chretien, bring the boat around, or we will 
 strike"; and standing up the two big fellows lifted 
 their oars ready for a blow. Chretien, easily per- 
 suaded, shifted the helm. The old sailor let go of 
 the cask, but Firmin clung tightly and the boat, 
 dragged by one party, held back by another, oscil- 
 lated furiously. 
 
 "Let go, boy, do you want to upset us?" 
 
 But the angry boy clung- fast. "Let go!" To 
 drag him away they gave a long pull on the oars. 
 But they were twitched back so vigorously that the 
 rowers tumbled off their seats. Then, in the confu- 
 sion, the boat floated loose. 
 
 "Stop! Misery and bad luck! we have lost- the 
 nets. Steer to starboard ! No ! Listen ! The 
 horn of the Bon-Pcchcur is to larboard. It has a 
 tender sound; one would believe that Lison was 
 blowing it for her boy. What do you say, boy, is it
 
 A fl*UEK GIRL OF FRANCE. 49 
 
 your sister who is blowing? What has become of 
 Firmin? He is gone overboard. Par bleu ! It was 
 he who upset us just now. Poor boy! He was too 
 obstinate. He is drowned, for if he had been able 
 to cling to the barrel he would have surely heard 
 us." 
 
 He heard them truly, but he did not answer. It 
 was the caprice of a child, the whim of an obstinate 
 little mule. 
 
 Let them go, and good luck to them ! So much 
 the better if they are lost. It will punish them for 
 having been cowards. And while the four sailors 
 lost themselves in the fog he floated astride of his 
 cask, as serious as a gendarme on his horse. 
 
 They were well advised, those fellows who de- 
 cided to run away ! As if a man ought to abandon 
 his goods to thieves! It took hard enough work to 
 earn them in the first place. Rlise would be satis- 
 fied with him, and thinking of his sister, Firmin was 
 proud of himself. 
 
 All the same, it was hard work to cling astride his 
 barrel. He had the air of a toad who slips along a 
 stone too round for him. But when one makes up 
 one's mind to do a thing, one can do it. In high 
 spirits he set himself straight in his saddle, bending 
 backward and forward to imitate the gallop of a 
 horse. The barrel dipped and rose softly, as if it 
 were swaying beneath him as it ran. 
 
 "Hoop-la, hoop-la! The beast has blood, he 
 answers to the spur!" 
 
 Two long hours passed, and, lost in this annihi- 
 lation of everything, Firmin became weary. He
 
 5 A FISHER GIRI. OF FRANCE. 
 
 floated dejectedly now with the "current, and 
 watched the sun climb the heavens, marking its 
 position by a shaft of wan light through the mist. 
 How slowly he climbed, this pale, sun ! He was 
 nearly overhead, but his rays had not burned off 
 the thick vapor. The fog would go only with the 
 day. 
 
 Nothing could be so gloomy as the silence. It 
 was broken only by blasts of horns at longer and 
 longer intervals, farther and farther away. Once in 
 a while there was a furtive splashing, a rapid swirl 
 of the water; it was a passing porpoise, a porpoise 
 good-natured and full of play. He swam at the 
 very surface of the sea, letting his fin show above it. 
 He stopped long enough to turn his foolish somer- 
 saults and to stare, his black eyes twinkling with 
 merriment and mischief. But he could not wait to 
 laugh. He was far away in no time. Not a bird 
 flew near; everything was in mourning under this 
 winding-sheet of fog. 
 
 Distress and exhaustion came together. In 
 water up to his knees, and drenched by the mist, 
 Firmin was worn out both in spirit and body. The 
 white night seemed to penetrate his heart. He 
 looked, he listened : but there was nothing except 
 this silent whiteness without form and without limit. 
 His startled eyes looked for dangers which he could 
 not see. He was frightened at noises which he did 
 not hear. Heedless of the fish, which began to 
 move as if to announce the end of the fog, he stared 
 fixedly before him into the silent blank which had 
 swallowed all the energies of his being.
 
 THE WHITE NIGHT SEEMED TO PENETRATE HIS HEART. 
 
 Chap. 6.
 
 A I-ISIIEK GIRL OF FK.lXCE. 51 
 
 Utterly worn out, his teeth chattering, gasping, 
 he calls Elise, who, alas, cannot hear him. His 
 clenched fingers dig themselves into the staves 
 of the barrel. Elise ! Why did she not come to 
 the rescue of her fainting brother? In a convulsion 
 of terror he lost his balance and his barrel over- 
 turned, throwing him into the sea. Elise! Elise! 
 the boy you love so much is drowning, he cannot 
 hold on longer, he is sinking! 
 
 Where was he? Roused by an unlucky blow and 
 the noise of splintering wood, he came to himself 
 under a pile of nets, half suffocated and nearly 
 drowned beneath the dripping mass. Everything 
 came back to his mind, but indistinctly. -He had 
 fallen from his cask, his strength gone, all hope 
 abandoned, when the sound of the nets being raised 
 had given him fresh courage. The hawser had been 
 drawn tight, bringing the nets right under his hands. 
 He clung to it desperately, he kept fast hold in its 
 rapid rise, and when he saw the boat at hand, 
 braced himself with his feet so as not to be crushed 
 or scraped against its side. With the nets he had 
 fallen on the deck, but then all his strength was 
 gone, and he did not know even how he had got 
 there. 
 
 Then his brain became clearer. It seemed to him 
 that the fog was less dense. Through the entan- 
 gling net-work which surrounded him he saw figures, 
 but they were not his own countrymen; their hair 
 was too blond, their eyes too light. Then he re- 
 membered the flatnbart and his suspicion of her.
 
 52 A 1-lSUKR GIRL OF 1-RAXCE. 
 
 Strange figures passed him with savage gestures, 
 armed with gaffs, with capstan-bars, with oars, 
 with grapnels. Where were they hurrying, and 
 what meant their strange shouts and this unaccount- 
 able outcry? 
 
 In the midst of this uproar in a strange tongue, 
 Firmin heard the sound of voices which he knew; 
 the sonorous call of Florimond, the hoarse shouts of 
 the sailors. Then came the noise of grapnels 
 clutching the bulwarks. 
 
 Then at intervals the clear voice of Elise: 
 
 "This way! Alongside! Cousin Florimond, 
 they have perhaps stolen our men with our nets." 
 
 Then a tumult of blows. Under the pile of nets 
 Firmin struggled like a cat who tries to get out of a 
 snare. He was wild to rejoin Elise, to share with 
 her the risks of the fight, because he knew that 
 what he heard was a fight between the sloop and 
 the flcunbart. 
 
 Florimond had ended by being afraid of this fog 
 which did not disperse at noon. He knew that 
 sometimes such fogs lasted all day, and that they 
 were followed by wind. Then, bad luck to nets sur- 
 prised by heavy weather at the approach of night. 
 His anxiety for the small boat had increased also. 
 He supposed it moored to some float, but as it did 
 not come back he planned to anticipate its return by 
 taking up the nets. And on the Bon-Pcchtur the 
 capstan smoked, so rapidly did it work. It turned 
 furiously. The men untied the nets in feverish 
 haste, two taking the place everywhere of one in the
 
 A FISHER C.RI. O/' FRANCE. S3 
 
 impatience which each felt to save his share of the 
 nets from an unknown danger. Suddenly the ma- 
 chine gave a twitch as if the weights which it was 
 raising had doubled. Florimond, supposing at first 
 that he must be lifting the boat which was fast to 
 the float, rushed to the bow to shout an alarm 
 through the fog, but he recoiled in the face of an 
 apparition. 
 
 It was a giant craft whose masts, seen through the 
 mist, appeared to touch the sky. It had a strange 
 and fantastic appearance, but its outline soon be- 
 came clear and distinct to him. The noise of work 
 was heard, the whirling of another machine, the 
 groaning of another capstan, the cries of men in 
 Flemish patois. It was the flambart which from 
 the other end was taking up his nets. Pack of 
 pirates ! ... Tonncrre ! 
 
 They were going to strike bow to bow. With a 
 grinding that made the boat shiver the hawser 
 parted, lashing the water furiously like the blow of 
 a whip. The next instant there was a crash as the 
 boats met. Both bowsprits snapped short off, the 
 bows were staved in, timbers cracked, every joint 
 creaked. Sloop and flambart cried aloud together 
 under the violence of the collision. Then locked 
 together, foot to foot, axe to axe, they fought for 
 the nets. 
 
 Firmin worked without stopping to get free from 
 his meshy prison. His fingers were entangled, his 
 legs and arms held fast. The -more he struggled 
 the more firmly he was held in this intricate mass.
 
 54 A FISHER GIRL OF FRANCE. 
 
 He heard the fight grow more noisy and more 
 bitter, taunts were hurled back and forth, there was 
 the sounds of blows, the cries of the wounded. 
 
 Death and ill-fortune! Why had he not thought 
 of his knife while he was working there vainly like a 
 fly in a spider's net. He was not long in opening a 
 way, in cutting for himself a door in the thick mass 
 of cordage. He was on his feet. What light was 
 this? The fog had gone of a sudden. He saw the 
 Bon-Pecheur. He darted forward. "Elise! Elise!" 
 
 Too late ! The two boats had separated. From 
 the bulwarks of the flambart the grapnels, cut off by 
 hatchets, hung like dead claws, and the sailors with 
 the blond faces shoved away with oars and gaffs 
 the sloop which fell off wounded and gasping. 
 
 "Elise! Elise!" Firmin had seen his sister, who 
 stretched out her arms to him. 
 
 "Jump overboard, child! I will throw a buoy." 
 
 Without hesitation he sprang on the bulwarks, 
 but rough hands struck him back harshly to the 
 deck. 
 
 "Elise! Elise!'' Too late ! The two boats had 
 hoiste'd their sails and in the now clear air were 
 under way, without pity for the two beings that 
 they were tearing asunder.
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 SLOOP and flambart set out each for its own port 
 to repair damages. 
 
 After the collision Florimond had examined into 
 the state of his boat, and had judged it such as to 
 make speedy repairs a necessity. The Bon-Peclieur 
 was injured in her dead works only, but she had lost 
 her figure head, carried away by the same blow as 
 the bowsprit, and her cut-water was stove. More- 
 over the tearing of her planking to starboard threat- 
 ened to let in the water, and with her timbers 
 started in the bow she could not have borne a heavy 
 head sea. 
 
 Temporary repairs were promptly made. The 
 wound in the planking was dressed within by a 
 solid facing of board and without was staunched 
 with a compress. A great piece of sail was smeared 
 with a thick coating of a waterproof dressing made 
 of tow, tar, and tallow, and this was then spread like 
 a great plaster over the injured place. 
 
 The cracks in the cut-water disappeared under a 
 sheathing tightly nailed, and finally the only extra 
 mast which the boat owned, a mizzen mast, was 
 made to do duty as a bowsprit. It weighed a little 
 heavily on the bow, already too weak, and made the 
 boat pitch violently, straining her in her seams. 
 
 There was no doubt that it would have been wise 
 
 55
 
 $6 A FISHER GIRL OF FRANCE. 
 
 to put into some Scotch roadstead, but Florimond 
 preferred to run all risks and try to make his own 
 port. Nothing is more hateful to a sailor than an 
 enforced stay on land, and a detention of this kind 
 appears to him more annoying and more irksome 
 than ever in a strange country. 
 
 Florimond, besides, was impatient to begin legal 
 proceedings before the maritime authorities. He 
 had seen enough of the flambart to enable him to 
 identify her, and had no need of further evidence to 
 prove his charges and obtain speedy damages for 
 his injuries. 
 
 He was not troubled at all as to Firmin. Pirates 
 of the North Sea are pillagers and stealers of nets, 
 but they do not eat men, and if they kept the boy 
 it was more from a fear of seeing him drown than 
 from a desire to hurt him. Surprised at being iden- 
 tified in .the sudden lifting of the fog, they would 
 not have wished to add to their misdeeds the 
 chances of a death which would weigh heavily in 
 the balance with their judges. 
 
 There remained the canoe. As to this Florimond 
 was more troubled. He tried in vain to imagine 
 how the four men had become separated from Fir- 
 min, and what direction they had taken. If his 
 sloop had not been damaged he would have recov- 
 ered the boy in order to find out; but he had been 
 too much troubled in the confusion of the unex- 
 pected collision to think of saving anything beyond 
 his crew and his boat. 
 
 The Bon-P2cheur sailed south, while the flambart 
 fled eastward. Elise followed with an inert glance
 
 A FISHER GIRL O/- FRANCE. 57 
 
 the strange craft which was carrying away the only 
 being for whom she cared to live. Then her first 
 feeling of stupor gave way, and she regained her 
 self-control. 
 
 The flambart was not yet more than two cable 
 lengths distant. 
 
 It had not taken the wind, and it would be child's 
 play to overtake her. As she watched her, still so 
 close at hand, a distant cry made her start. Her 
 child, the boy whom she loved, whom she had 
 always loved, was struggling not to be carried away. 
 
 Stirred in every fibre of her being she drew her- 
 self up, resolute and strong to defend the rights of 
 outraged affection. Running to the helm where 
 Florimond was, she seized it with her two hands as 
 if to bring the boat about. 
 
 "Tack, cousin, I must get my boy." 
 
 "You are a fool, Elise. We shall have heavy 
 enough work as it is, if the \\feather does not favor 
 us." 
 
 "I do not care, I wish my boy." 
 
 "Then go and get him alone, the boat shall not 
 carry you." 
 
 "Oh, cousin! I beseech you. It will take less 
 than half an hour." 
 
 "The wind would not take as much time as that 
 to throw us on our beam-ends." 
 
 "Cousin, I promise you to be quick. We need 
 not come alongside, the boy shall jump overboard. 
 I will make myself fast to a rope and pick him up." 
 
 "Elise, be quiet. I have not even five minutes to 
 lose. The slightest squall would stave in our sides.
 
 5 8 A FISHER GIRL OF I' 
 
 I shall not have a moment's peace until we have 
 reached port." 
 
 "Cousin Florimond, it is killing me to know that 
 my Firmin is among those pirates." 
 
 "Why do you let your imagination run away with 
 you? Do you not know that they will send him 
 back by the first boat? Is it not the custom?" 
 
 "Cousin, cousin, hurry ! The flambart is off." 
 
 "Elise, let go! I will not risk everything for your 
 wretched brother. Let go !" 
 
 Elise did not let go of the helm. One would 
 have said that, holding herself thus fast to the soul 
 of the boat, she imagined that she could persuade it 
 to stop and act as she wished. 
 
 But Florimond's patience was exhausted at her 
 persistence. She raised to him her great black eyes, 
 firm and beseeching, and he was not able to bear 
 the trouble which he saw in them. 
 
 "Away there ! Tdtmerre / Away there, Elise ! 
 Do you think you are captain now because the sail- 
 ors have flattered you in order to annoy me? Have 
 you ever known me suffer another master than my- 
 self on my boat? Away, there!" 
 
 He raised his voice, that the men of the crew, who 
 pressed around them, interested in the dispute, 
 could hear clearly. 
 
 There was not one who did not approve the skip- 
 per's prudence. At the first seam which shows 
 itself in the side of his floating house the sailor 
 loses confidence, and with that his resolution. 
 When one has nothing between one's self and death 
 but a wooden box, it is especially necessary that
 
 A FISHER GIR1. OF FRANCE. 59 
 
 there should be no cracks in the planking. The 
 men remained silent, not able to forget the state of 
 affairs and to take sides. Nevertheless there was an 
 evident sympathy for Elise, a frank admiration for 
 her feeling and her bravery. They experienced a 
 mysterious respect for this creature, so strong in 
 the weakness of her sex ; for this young girl, 
 vigorous and gentle, whose courage was sure 
 and whose heart was kind. She had shown against 
 danger a resolution which never failed, against 
 injury a pity which nothing discouraged. She had 
 won them over by the strength of her heroic 
 youth, and they gave her their full support and 
 confidence. 
 
 Before her they did not dare to be ill-natured, or 
 to let her see their rough ways. They were eager 
 to show their skill and courage, to run without hesi- 
 tation in heavy weather along the gunwale, to walk 
 erect on the bowsprit, and to play like monkeys in 
 the rigging. Each showed his best side and, 
 through the force of example, Elise was the cause 
 of an increased discipline. 
 
 All this was to Florimond a cause of jealousy and 
 continual ill-feeling. The more this strange influ- 
 ence on his boat increased, the less was he able to 
 stand it. He suffered from envy and mortification, 
 and these make even kind hearts unjust. 
 
 In fact he regretted already that he had not man- 
 aged by prompt action to rescue Firmin. In his 
 inmost conscience he reproached himself for his 
 hardness; but, wounded in his vanity, he would 
 rather have died at the helm than have changed his
 
 60 A FISHER GIRL OF FRANCE. 
 
 first refusal, and so have seemed to yield to the 
 ascendancy of Elise. 
 
 At this moment Barnabe came on deck, hardly yet 
 well, but drawn thither by the excitement of recent 
 events. He waddled pompously forward. Under 
 the bandages and rags in which ha'f his head was 
 tied up, his round nose, his little alert eye, and his 
 black moustache gave him quite a military swagger. 
 He immediately took a hand in the discussion, with 
 his customary arrogant tone. He did not know the 
 cause of the dispute, but he was not accustomed to 
 being embarrassed by any such trifle as that, and his 
 only thought was to be revenged on Florimond. 
 
 Being the last to arrive he found himself, as he 
 was a short man, out of sight behind the tall figures 
 of his comrades. He saw that his voice could not 
 be heard. Jumping upward he caught a rope, 
 climbed it, and hung fast to it like a cat, and then, 
 as much at his ease as an orator in his pulpit, deliv- 
 ered his harangue. He spoke as brawlers every- 
 where do, for the pleasure of hearing his own voice, 
 and without realizing that, in these first moments of 
 uneasiness, his audience did not care in the least for 
 his twaddle. 
 
 "Hold your tongue, Barnabe," cried the skipper. 
 "We don't want to hear you ; one has better things 
 to do than to listen to the squalling of a fool, when 
 one fears a storm." 
 
 "Does the truth then trouble you? If you wish 
 to injure Lison, it is because you are jealous. She 
 is worth more than you." 
 
 This apostrophe had no connection with the sub-
 
 A FISHER GIRL OF FRANCE. 61 
 
 / 
 
 ject of debate, but it agreed very well with the real 
 feeling of the sailors. They all smiled grimly as 
 they looked at Florimond, who turned the tables 
 by saying : 
 
 "There is no time for laughing, pack of simple- 
 tons. Do you remember that our bow is as cracked 
 as Barnabe's head?" 
 
 With the weak vacillation of the ignorant they 
 lost their smiles instantly, but the landsman was not 
 vanquished : 
 
 "If Lison had had charge of the boat, it would not 
 have been injured." 
 
 "Be quiet, Barnabe," cried Elise, "we are wasting 
 valuable time in foolish talk. My brother Firmin is 
 carried off on the flambart. I want to go after 
 him." 
 
 "Of course! We must tack," shouted Barnabe. 
 
 He waited for the effect of this demand. But the 
 sailors did not move, held back this time by the 
 fury of the skipper, who cried in a rage: 
 
 "Hold your tongue! Do you wish the boat to be 
 lost on account of this wretched girl? Is it not 
 enough that we have lost our season through her? 
 Since she has been on board we have had nothing 
 but bad luck." 
 
 He pushed Elise roughly from the helm. Over- 
 come by the cruelty of fate she burst into a torrent 
 of tears. From her black eyes, swimming in sad- 
 ness, the bitter drops gushed hot and tumultuous, 
 as though the source of bitterness and woe was 
 inexhaustible. Her chest heaved under her dis- 
 tressing sobs, and a feeling of rude sadness, of
 
 62 A FISHER GIRL OF FRANCE. 
 
 instinctive pity seized all the men at the sight of 
 her grief and misery. 
 
 "Shall we abandon her in her trouble?" shouted 
 Barnabe. "We must tack! It is only cowards who 
 make women weep. Come on! Seize the tiller!" 
 
 The group of sailors was stirred by an involun- 
 tary thrill. Florimond feared the unchaining of the 
 tempest, if he were not firm. With his strong hand 
 he snatched the tiller from its socket, and raised it 
 with all the strength of his mighty arm. 
 
 "Tonnerre! Here it is! Who wants the tiller? 
 who wants it?" 
 
 He made it whirl about him threateningly. All 
 the men recoiled instinctively, and slipping down 
 his rope Barnabe cunningly took shelter behind his 
 companions. 
 
 "Who wants it? Tonnerre ! " 
 
 No one, evidently, was anxious for it, for no man 
 moved. 
 
 At this moment the sloop gave a plaintive groan, 
 a yawning of her plastered seams. 
 
 "Do you hear how she wheezes in the chest? She 
 breathes hard. Hoist the top-sail ! " 
 
 It was done. When she saw the sloop with alP 
 sails spread, Elise felt that her last hope was gone. 
 Quickly, through the veil of her tears, she turned her 
 eyes toward the flambart, which was disappearing 
 on the eastern horizon, and, with lacerated feelings 
 and bleeding heart, abandoned herself to the depths 
 of her sorrow. 
 
 For four days and four nights the Bon-P^cheur ran
 
 A FISHER GIRL OF FRANCE. 63 
 
 at the same speed without shifting a sail. In one 
 straight flight she passed through the North Sea, 
 entered the straits of Calais, and found herself again 
 in the familiar waters of the English Channel. 
 
 But with her change of sea, she had a change of 
 wind. These sudden changes are very common in 
 these waters. One would have said that the breeze 
 was angry at the impatience of the Bon-PecJieur, and 
 that it changed in order to hinder her presumptuous 
 flight. 
 
 If she could only get underway! For an hour 
 her large hull had ceased to slip proudly through 
 the waves, and was tossing a little heavily. There 
 was a risk of opening her wound. If she could only 
 get under way ! Yonder in the wind's eye, a squall 
 was brewing. In advance of the great clouds, 
 which rolled in gray whirls, rose a broad band of 
 sombre yellow, like a cliff of wind and rain. They 
 are not at all pleasant to meet, these briny coast 
 squalls, behind each one of which hide twenty others, 
 ready to follow in wild, endless uproar. 
 
 The band of yellow spread. It covered half the 
 sky, and its outlines reached the zenith. It drew 
 near, driven by a furious wind, and borne on a 
 rushing wave, like a moving wall of water, ready to 
 crash down. In a quarter of an hour it covered the 
 whole heavens, while before it ran three waves, 
 avant-couriers, who preceded it for some minutes, as 
 if to announce the tempest. 
 
 If the Bon-Peclicnr had only not lost so much time. 
 It had hardly taken in any sail, it was as full of bra- 
 vado as if it wished to meet the squall, and be
 
 64 A FISHER GIRL OF FRANCE. 
 
 * 
 
 driven along by it. It was approaching its port. 
 Already had it passed the sands of Gris-Nez and 
 the chalky rocks of Boulogne, it had seen again the 
 light-house of Etaples, it had heard the buoy which 
 whistles on the shoals of Berck, and the buoy of ihe 
 Vergoyer. There the sea is the shallowest in those 
 waters. The bottom lies little over twenty feet be- 
 low the surface. The surf foams and breaks as 
 strongly as on the coast. It is heavy enough to 
 capsize any boat. 
 
 It was toward this spot that the north-east wind, 
 which had held for the last hour, was blowing. If 
 it should suddenly get the Bon-Pechenr in its clutch, 
 it would drive her to this Vergoyer, whence escape 
 was impossible. Never can it be known how many 
 men and boats have been engulfed by these eddies, 
 hardly three thousand feet wide. At its very name 
 Elise had a shiver of fright. For it was this ac- 
 cursed Vergoyer which had made her an orphan, and 
 which still kept jealously the bodies of her father 
 and his six companions, refusing to deliver them up 
 to the land they loved so well. 
 
 Florimond was at the helm. For four days he had 
 hardly left it. Less than ever in the hour of peril 
 would he entrust to other hands the fortunes of his 
 boat. With his steady eye, and that skill in han- 
 dling her which never forsook him, he had fought the 
 Bon-P$clieur against the treacherous sea ; refusing all 
 rest, having his meals brought to him, and eating 
 with one hand while he steered with the other. In 
 this half week he had not slept five hours. His 
 cheeks were burning with fever, and his clear eyes
 
 A FISHER GIRL OF FRANCE. 6$ 
 
 were dimmed and seemed sunk deep into his 
 head. 
 
 It was because he knew and feared this sea, which 
 was so quickly angry ; this sea which supports life, 
 but which also destroys it.
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 FLORIMOND's only hope was that the storm 
 would be slight, for sometimes, threatening as they 
 seem, these squalls have little force, and are soon 
 over. He awaited impatiently the three waves 
 which preceded it, in order to judge of the strength 
 of those in their wake. 
 
 These three waves are often followed by a lull. 
 There is generally a space of five minutes between 
 the first alarm and the arrival of the wind ; five 
 minutes, which a good sailor utilizes in getting his 
 ship ready to meet it. 
 
 What should he do? Should he keep the wind 
 astern and run before it with all speed in the direc- 
 tion of his harbor? It was a hundred chances to 
 one that he would strike on the Vergoyer. 
 
 Was there any other means of safety that he 
 could try? Should he close reef her? Was not 
 that still more risky? 
 
 When a boat is close reefed, she renders the tem- 
 pest harmless by offering it no resistance. The sea 
 has a malicious pleasure in hurling masses of water 
 against an object which opposes it. So the boat 
 uses a kind of strategy. She appears to be at the 
 mercy of the waves, but all the while keeps a sharp 
 watch against the rude play of her adversary. All 
 sail is struck, so as to give the wind no hold except 
 
 66
 
 A FISHER GIRL OF FRANCE. 67 
 
 on the hull, and as the boat drifts, she forms with 
 her hull a large wake, flat and solid, which resists 
 the violence of the waves, stops them, and knocks 
 them down, so that they die out on it. 
 
 The Bon-Pecheur was an old hand at this kind of 
 work, and expert at it. It is usually so with good 
 sailors ; so that had she not been injured, Florimond 
 would not have dreaded the squall in the least. He 
 would have let his boat drift, and would have 
 brought up at Treport or perhaps at Dieppe; but 
 she was injured in precisely the parts which would 
 be most under strain. 
 
 Only two sails are used ; in the bow the stay-sail, 
 and in the stern a little leg-of-mutton, which takes 
 the place of the jigger-sail. In this way the two 
 ends of the boat, which alone carry sail, feel the 
 force of the wind. Consequently they must be very 
 strong. Would the Bon-Pecheur, wounded as she 
 was, have strength to resist such a strain? 
 
 It seemed then to Florimond that to drift would 
 end almost certainly in the boat's breaking up. He 
 was still hesitating when the three waves arrived, 
 foaming and roaring, and swept the deck from end 
 to end. 
 
 In order to withstand the shock, which he fore- 
 saw was to be tremendous, he had braced himself, 
 with legs far apart ; but the first sea lifted him off his 
 feet, picked him up, shook him, knocked him sense- 
 less, and rolled him over and over, leaving him 
 unconscious on the deck. The second wave would 
 have carried him overboard, had not two sailors 
 seized him just in time, and dropped him into a
 
 68 A FISHER GIRL OF FRANCE. 
 
 place of safety, through the open hatch by the 
 capstan. 
 
 The three waves swept by in a fury of foam, 
 showing that the wind was to be tremendous. They 
 must act or die. 
 
 Who should take the helm? 
 
 "Lison Lison!" 
 
 As with one voice the sailors called for the girl, 
 showing involuntarily how they depended on her for 
 their lives. It was a perilous honor which they 
 forced upon her. 
 
 Injured in her dead works already, and full of 
 water, the sloop quivered under the blows of the 
 waves, while at this very moment she was close to 
 the dangers of the shoals, with their shifting cur- 
 rents of eddying sand. 
 
 Elise did not hesitate. In her instinctive terror 
 of the Vergoyer, she had but one thought that was 
 to fly from it, to shun, cost what it might, the place 
 to which the wind was furiously hurrying them. 
 Had it not already had enough victims, this gulf of 
 the dead, that one should offer one's self as a fresh 
 sacrifice, with the certainty of not escaping? 
 
 Elise, by close reefing the boat, hoped to reach 
 the pier at Treport. There was on the coast to the 
 south-west a bad channel to pass through, down 
 toward the black buoy, but they would do their best 
 when they came to it. Between two dangerous 
 courses ought not one to choose the less? 
 
 Without hesitation, without even surprise at their 
 choosing her, she ran to the helm and quickly made
 
 A FISHER GIRL OF FRANCE. 69 
 
 herself fast to the end of a rope, so as not to be 
 swept over by the enormous seas that were to come. 
 She gave out her orders: 
 
 "Furl the jib and the main-sail! Rig the leg-of- 
 mutton !" 
 
 She ordered ropes stretched at once from the 
 mast to the gunwale, for the men to hold to. She 
 assigned them their posts. Four sailors to the 
 pumps, two to the lookout on the bow. Every- 
 thing was ready when the first blast came, with furi- 
 ous waves heaped up on one another, as if to drown 
 them under the deluge of foam and spray. The 
 deck was under water from one end to the other. 
 Quantities of it ran into the open hatchways. How 
 had it happened that they could have forgotten to 
 shut these mouths of the ship? Through them she 
 was drinking enough water to sink her. 
 
 "Close the hatches! Nail them fast!" The cov- 
 ers were clapped on, and, in order that they should 
 not yield to a sudden strain and open of themselves, 
 were made secure by heavy blows of hammer and nails. 
 
 It was time. Great sweeping seas came aboard. 
 Furious at finding the hatches closed, they crashed 
 against the bulwarks, and ran off slowly through the 
 scuppers. 
 
 All was ready. Heaven help them ! Elise stood 
 erect, conscious of her responsibility. Near her a 
 sailor called out when the heaviest seas were going 
 to break. She turned her back to them, bracing 
 herself firmly, disappearing in the whirls of foam, 
 but always reappearing on her feet, energetic and 
 unconquerable.
 
 70 A I'ISHER GIRL OF FRANCE. 
 
 Soon the blasts of the tempest were in mad chase, 
 as if striving to see which could lash the hardest and 
 most furiously. 
 
 With quivering plunges, with creakings and 
 strainings, the Bon-PecJieur fell away across the 
 shoals. Sometimes the waves were swifter than 
 she, and swept by her; then, striking her on the 
 stern, they drove her violently forward. Her bow 
 groaned dolorously, the pumps clanked unceasingly, 
 while the lookout shouted : 
 
 "To larboard a bell buoy!" 
 
 It was the buoy anchored on the shoals of 
 Somme. 
 
 "To starboard a black buoy!" 
 
 The Bon-PccJieur entered the channel. This was 
 a perilous spot, but Elise did not fear it any more 
 than the shoal the bell buoy marked. Through 
 these waters, so treacherous on account of their 
 shifting sands, she had sailed with her father often 
 enough to know all the dangers, and to shun them 
 with the confidence of an old pilot. 
 
 Immovable and firm, she managed the helm 
 rather with her nerves than with her muscles. 
 Heavy as it seemed for her, she held it against the 
 seas, and by a continual go and come of the tiller 
 forced the boat's head in such a way as to spare the 
 bow, making the stern bear the brunt of the shocks. 
 Now stumblingly, now with a rush forward, the 
 Bon-Pcchcur went on her crooked course, and buoys 
 and beacons went by her as fast as if they were 
 themselves running in an opposite direction. 
 
 Hurrah ! They see at last the light-house of Tre-
 
 .NEAR HER, A SAILOR CALLED OUT WHEN THE HEAVIEST SEAS 
 WERE GOING TO BREAK. 
 
 Chap. 8.
 
 A FISHER GIRL OF FRANCE. 7 1 
 
 port, which yonder to leeward stands out cl^ar 
 above the sombre cliffs, white as the emblem of 
 hope. Courage ! the wave is heavy, but the danger 
 of the shoals is over. Before a half hour the Bon- 
 PccJieur will be at the pier. 
 
 Alas, the wind stiffens! The heavens are black, 
 the sea is black, the foam alone is white. The 
 waves strike her more furiously. One of them, 
 angry and irresistible, has nearly engulfed her in its 
 whirling mass. She is entirely lost to sight. For 
 twenty seconds there is no sign of her. Then she 
 shakes herself free, but with a fresh rent in her bow. 
 A little more, and she would have gone down for- 
 ever. Heaven help them ! 
 
 "Turn out a reef of the main-sail, two reefs of the 
 jib !" 
 
 What are you thinking of, Elise ! more sail to a 
 wind so furious that it already nearly tears away 
 the little that the boat is carrying. The Bon- 
 Peclicur flies like a bird of the tempest. In less 
 than a quarter of an hour she is just under the light- 
 house. Courage! Alas! The cut-water opens, and 
 the bow settles, until the deck is on a level with the 
 sea. Are they to go down so near port? Heaven 
 help them ! 
 
 "Hoist the jib and the stay-sail!" 
 
 More sail still? It seems madness. The jib is 
 hardly hoisted before it is torn away, dragging with 
 it the makeshift bowsprit. 
 
 Its rags and the timber thrash about, threatening 
 to destroy everything. Death and misery! The 
 Bon-Pecheur digs her nose under water.
 
 7 2 A FISHER GIRL OF FRANCE. 
 
 "Hoist the main-sail!" 
 
 It is a fearful task. Heaven help them ! But 
 while the boat floats there is hope. The sailors 
 watch for a lull in the wind, and suddenly the sail 
 hangs out in the teeth of the gale. The bow is full 
 of water, but lifted by the pressure of the wind 
 against the sail it rises again. 
 
 Courage! The light-house is close at hand. How 
 the boat rolls and pitches! But now the Bon- 
 Pet/ieur is not making headway. She lies low in 
 the water, plunging heavily. She is like a wounded 
 sea-gull beating with its wings in its last agonizing 
 flight. 
 
 The mast cracks as if it would break. The sail is 
 bellied out by the wind, but her hull is such a dead 
 weight that she hardly moves. 
 
 "Hoist the top-sails! Heaven help us!" 
 
 Courage ! The boat is under way again ! The 
 light-house is not more than twenty fathoms distant, 
 but at the harbor-mouth there is a frightful chop- 
 ping sea. 
 
 Courage! Misery! The mast goes by the board. 
 
 "Cut her free !" The hatchets work busily. The 
 mast and the sail drop into the sea. The boat rises 
 lightly. She still floats. 
 
 Tossed from crest to crest, helpless now, she 
 pitches and rolls fearfully. On the pier there is'a 
 frightful clamor. Hoo-o-o! Hoo-oo-oo! 
 
 The Bon-Pecheur whirls about aimlessly. 
 
 A wave strikes her on the side and drives her into 
 the harbor. Courage! Misery! She will come to 
 grief against the pier! No! With an effort which
 
 A FISHER G1KL OF FRANCE, 73 
 
 drives all the blood to her heart, Elise gives a 
 mighty shift to the helm. The Bon-P^cheur lies 
 over, her keel almost in air. Hoo-oo-oo! She has 
 gone down in the yawning gulf. No ! She rolls 
 back. Is it for the last time? No! The helm 
 brings her up. Ropes are thrown and seized. Two 
 hundred hands make her fast. 
 
 "Furl all sail!" The only sail left, the little leg- 
 of-mutton in the stern, is taken in. 
 
 And they are in port! Hurrah! Elise, your 
 sloop and your men are safe !
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 FLORIMOND accused Elise of meanness and 
 treachery, and declared that he would never forgive 
 her. 
 
 When she had ordered the hatches closed, her 
 order had been carried out so quickly that they had 
 forgotten him, as he lay unconscious under the 
 capstan hatch, and had nailed him in like a package 
 in a box. 
 
 Shaken by the rolling and pounded by the pitch- 
 ing, he had come to himself, and had cried aloud, 
 but his calls were lost in the noise of the storm. 
 Too impatient to wait quietly for the help which 
 they seemed to refuse him, he had seized the 
 machinist's tools and pried with all his force on the 
 cover. Not being able to lift it he tried to smash 
 it, this trap which weighed him down like a cover 
 on a coffin. He rained a volley of blows upon it. 
 Could it be that they did not hear him? If they 
 kept him a prisoner in this way, it was because he 
 was betrayed. 
 
 Then he took fresh courage and shouted until he 
 was breathless, but still the trap was not raised. 
 
 Then he understood. It was to destroy him that 
 they shut him up, to wipe out with his death all evi- 
 dence of their insubordination. In case the boat 
 was lost they would not let him have a chance for 
 
 74
 
 A FISHER GIRL OF FRANCE. 75 
 
 life, as he would have had if free. He would go to 
 the bottom with the boat without being able to 
 struggle even, drowned stupidly like a rat in a pan- 
 try. And believing that the others, busy above, 
 were rejoicing at his approaching end he pounded, 
 pounded, without stopping. 
 
 He heard every quiver of the boat, and listened 
 anxiously to its groans and wails of agony. He 
 heard the waves beating her sides, as if to stave 
 them in. One after another he felt the blows strike 
 the hull, which trembled to its keel. 
 
 Tonnerre! To die shut up, living, in his tomb! 
 
 And all on account of this Lison, this girl whom he 
 had taken because she was dying of hunger. He 
 was well recompensed. She was a fraud, a traitress, 
 like all the rest of her kind. It was she who had 
 brought him bad luck. 
 
 He had refused to go after Firmin, an idiot who 
 was not worth the danger one would have run for 
 him. Now she was being revenged, this Lison. 
 She had bewitched the crew; she was captain on 
 deck, while he, the true captain, was thrown into 
 the hold like the commonest sailor. 
 
 Then, as his jealous fancies grew, Florimond 
 became mad with anger. His breath came hur- 
 riedly, he dug his nails into his breast, he was burn- 
 ing with rage. 
 
 He threw himself against the cover. If he could 
 but break it loose, so as to open a passage and reap- 
 pear in the midst of these miserable dogs, how he 
 would lash them as they deserved. He would show 
 them what they gained in taking a new captain
 
 7 6 A FISHER GIRL OF FRANCE. 
 
 this Lison who brought trouble and bad luck. She 
 had caused a mutiny, without doubt that she might 
 seize the helm and declare on their return, with the 
 crew to back her, that she knew how to manage a 
 boat as well as a captain. It is death to a boat to 
 have a woman aboard. If only before he went 
 down he could hold her five minutes between his 
 fingers, and drag her strangling in the gulf with him. 
 Tonncrre! In his rage for vengeance he tried to 
 lift with his shoulders the covering of his prison, and 
 wore himself out in useless efforts. He was lying 
 flat on his back, exhausted by his unsatisfied hatred, 
 when he heard the hatch open. 
 
 Hardly had she seen the sloop firmly tied to the 
 quay than Elise remembered Florimond. Was it 
 possible that, in the midst of the confusion of the 
 squall, the captain had been forgotten? If they had 
 gone down he would have drowned without having 
 a chance to fight for life, or to ever see again the 
 sky above him. 
 
 Elise gave orders at once, and to hurry their exe- 
 cution took a hand herself. In an instant she had 
 seized a lever and ripped off the cover; then, drop- 
 ping on her knees, in order to see and to speak more 
 clearly : 
 
 "Cousin Florimond, we are in port all safe!" 
 
 There was no answer. 
 
 "You frighten me, Cousin Florimond. Are you 
 injured?" and bending over him she felt his fore- 
 head and hands. She started back suddenly, fright- 
 ened and shivering. He had risen to his feet, his 
 wide open eyes had a strange glare, his raised finger
 
 A FISHER GIRL OF FRANCE. 77 
 
 threatened her. His head touched the ceiling, his 
 face seemed strangely pale in the deep shadow. 
 Elise was so frightened that she threw herself 
 behind the machine, hardly daring to raise her eyes, 
 and trembling as if before a judge. 
 
 "Listen, Cousin Florimond, the men sent me to 
 the helm. I was busy with the boat. It is true 
 that I ought to have thought of you." 
 
 She waited for his response. Even .though it 
 should be hard and unjust, yet if he would only 
 speak, she could at least be able to tell how angry 
 he was by his voice. 
 
 "Cousin Florimond, answer me ! Do you not for- 
 give me? It was not my fault that they made me 
 take the helm in your place. My body is as 
 wounded as my feelings. Do not torture me any 
 more. Answer me, Cousin Florimond." 
 
 His lips did not move, but his wide open eyes 
 glared, as if to chastise the frightened soul who 
 trembled under their menace. 
 
 "Mercy, Cousin Florimond; will you break my 
 heart, because I forgot you in the midst of such 
 danger? It all came about from closing the hatches. 
 I ordered it done just as you would have yourself." 
 
 Rigid as his own spectre, Florimond appeared ter- 
 rible in his immobility. 
 
 "Mercy, Cousin Florimond!" 
 
 And poor Elise, overcome, fell on her knees, her 
 face hidden between her two hands. 
 
 "Bad luck! Tonnerre ! Bewitcher of sailors! 
 You made them nail me in the hold, so that you 
 would be free to take my place. It is your turn to
 
 7 8 A FISHER GIKJ. OF FRANCE. 
 
 be locked up. You will stay here until the arrival 
 of the commissaire; then you can tell your story to 
 the police, you thief!" 
 
 At this sudden accusation, Elise rose to her feet. 
 She was reassured by his outburst of noisy rage. 
 " I have stolen nothing. It was your own sailors 
 who put me in your place. It was not my fault. 
 You were knocked senseless, Cousin Florimond." 
 
 "Be quiet, traitress and 
 
 He stopped suddenly, interrupted by a call which 
 made him start. "Hello, captain"; he recognized 
 the voice immediately. It was that of the official in- 
 spector. Turning to go on deck, he said in a low tone 
 to Elise, "I am going to tell him of your doings." 
 
 "Mercy, Cousin Florimond!" 
 
 "Be quiet, traitress, thief!" 
 
 Leaving her frightened and in tears, he was 
 quickly on deck. The under-commissaire of ma- 
 rines awaited him, very magnificent and dignified, in 
 his tightly buttoned overcoat and his silver-laced 
 hat. He had seen the dramatic entrance of this 
 strange boat into his port, and came more from 
 curiosity than from the demands of the service. 
 When he first stepped aboard he had asked for the 
 captain, and thus had recalled him to the recollec- 
 tion of the sailors. 
 
 Busy as they were in unloading the nets in order 
 to free the hull, or working the pumps, the men had 
 not given a thought to Florimond. Besides, their 
 minds were so full of Elise, and of her courage and 
 skill in handling the boat, that unconsciously they 
 had forgotten the real captain.
 
 ./ FISHER GIRL OF FRAACE. 79 
 
 The officer had surprised them by his unexpected 
 demand. They brought him to the capstan hatch, 
 and hearing Florimond's angry voice they had 
 spoken loudly, so as not to allow it to come to the 
 ears of authority. 
 
 As a rule, sailors are not happy to find themselves 
 face to face with a maritime officer. They have 
 always some little fault in mind. The fishing laws 
 are severe, and if they cannot hoodwink the police, 
 they are likely to lose all their profits in fines and 
 penalties. 
 
 Florimond had no fancy for this class of visitors 
 any more than his men, and he, too, had upon his 
 conscience certain small sins. In engaging a woman 
 he had not gone contrary to the law, which allowed 
 captains perfect liberty in the choice of their crew. 
 But in the fear of being refused a clearance, he had, 
 when he had showed his list, put Elise down as a 
 man. On this point, therefore, he was not entirely 
 at ease. 
 
 On another score also he was troubled. He ad- 
 mitted to himself that the blow with which he had 
 laid open Barnabe's head might cause an inquiry 
 to lie against him for abuse of power. And in the 
 uninterrupted succession of conflicts and misadven- 
 tures which had assailed him since his departure, he 
 could not clearly distinguish on whose side was the 
 right or wrong. 
 
 In spite of his threats to Elise, therefore, he pru- 
 dently kept silence about her, and told only of the 
 two things absolutely necessary the disappearance 
 of the small boat, and the theft of the nets. He
 
 o A FISHER GYAY. ('/ I- RANGE. 
 
 made hardly any allusion at all to Firmin's being 
 carried off a boy without relatives he stopped 
 short. From the capstan hatch came a burst of 
 sobs. 
 
 "Mercy, Cousin Florimond !" 
 
 He went on in a louder tone "a little deserter 
 who got on to the flambart in order to seek adven- 
 tures 
 
 "Mercy, Cousin Florimond!" 
 
 "A young sea vermin who overturned discipline, 
 who 
 
 The commissaire stopped Florimond with a cyni- 
 cal gesture. 
 
 "You are too excited, captain ! I suspect there is 
 something hidden behind all this. I will make an 
 inquiry about this little fellow." And he clambered 
 back upon the quay, where were piled up all that 
 they had saved of nets, floats, and rigging. He 
 verified the importance of the theft, examined the 
 parted hawser and the torn nets, then he summoned 
 all the sailors for an inquiry. 
 
 All answered alike, as if inspired by the captain. 
 There had been no trouble on the Bon-Pecheur. 
 Nevertheless Barnab appeared otherwise disposed. 
 When he saw his turn for speaking come, he squared 
 himself proudly and tossed his head, in order to 
 attract attention to his bandages and wounds. 
 
 Florimond saw him. He knew that he would not 
 keep quiet before the police, and that they v/ould 
 get from him enough to make them all trouble. He 
 was thoroughly afraid of some foolish indiscretion. 
 One gains only harm when one meddles with the
 
 A FISHER GIRL OF FRANCE, 8 1 
 
 law. He placed himself directly before the lands- 
 man, and, raising his great figure to its full height, 
 seemed to make that of Barnabe all the smaller. 
 He attracted his attention by a light whistle, and 
 frowned threateningly at him. 
 
 Barnabe dropped his head. From that instant he 
 was docile. He had in mind the lesson which he 
 had received with the blow. One would have said 
 that he had been injured permanently in his brain, 
 and that the presence of the captain was enough to 
 paralyze it. But as he lowered his tone at the dic- 
 tation of his master, he was rated at his true value 
 by his comrades. He, no more than the others, had 
 complaints to make, and the inquiry ended without 
 results. 
 
 The sailors had not allowed the commissaire to 
 perceive the presence of Elise, but hardly had they 
 seen him depart than they ran toward the capstan- 
 hatch. 
 
 "On deck, Lison! The penalty merchant is gone 
 back to his shop." 
 
 Florimond instantly interposed. 
 
 "Away there all ! Let her cry her eyes out. The 
 first man who defends her I will twist up like a knot 
 in a sheet !" 
 
 The men drew aside like cowards, and that was 
 the end. 
 
 The necessary steps at the maritime bureau, and 
 the necessary work to get the Bon-Pecheur to the 
 ship-yard, took four long days. During all this time 
 Florimond nursed his anger. He knew now, how 
 Elise had saved the Bon-Pecheur, and what a debt
 
 82 A FISHER GIRL OF FRANCE. 
 
 he had involuntarily contracted to her. The 
 thought tortured him. He almost certainly would 
 not have run the risks she had. He would never 
 have dared to drift for four hours with open seams 
 in such a storm. He would have run before the 
 wind, he would have fallen into the eddies of the 
 Vergoyer, and without doubt he would have met 
 death there. 
 
 He had burnings in his stomach, and rushes of 
 blood to the head. Oh, this Lison ! He owed her 
 not only "his boat he owed her his life. He would 
 rather have perished. He would not then have had 
 such a gnawing at the heart. 
 
 Could it be that his luck had turned? Never had 
 such a chapter of accidents come to a good skipper. 
 What would they say at home ; that he was too 
 proud, and that it served him right? He had 
 always been the first to return without a man lost, 
 his bins full ; and now to-morrow he must appear, his 
 boat injured, his nets gone, four men lost, too, and 
 not the tail of a fish. Would any one believe that it 
 was not his fault? It is hard lines for a skipper to 
 have to own defeat. 
 
 In fifteen days he had three times just escaped 
 with his life. He had been close to death, close to 
 ruin ! He would no longer be the foremost skipper 
 of that coast. A young girl had stolen his glory 
 from him. He could hear even now all these sailors 
 singing the praises of this Lison in the taverns at 
 home. What would they say of him? He would 
 like to take a turn of a rope around their evil 
 tongues.
 
 A FISHER GIRL OF FRANCE. 83 
 
 In fact, he could no longer stand the sight of 
 Elise, and turned away wretched at hearing even 
 her name. He kept her away from the work, and 
 was out of patience that she must stay two days 
 more on board. He would have sent her home with 
 half the crew, but he was afraid that, before his 
 return, the sailors' tongues would have already been 
 at work, building up Elise's fame on the ruins of his 
 own. 
 
 And only when all was ready, the nets and pro- 
 visions stored, the sloop careened in the shipyard 
 on the beach, and the farewells exchanged, did Flori- 
 mond take the homeward route with his compan- 
 ions. 
 
 What a sorrowful return it was! They walked 
 with lowered heads, their old knitted jerseys tucked 
 into the bands of their trousers. They were bare- 
 foot, with their kits on their backs, their shoes 
 knocking together beneath them. Sailors do not 
 use up good shoes on bad country roads. Accus- 
 tomed to the smooth deck, and made tender by 
 being perpetually wet, their feet do not take kindly 
 to these stony ways. They trotted and limped like 
 a company in full rout. A melancholy return! 
 
 They mounted the rough path to the cliffs. 
 When they were on their summits, they went, for 
 two hours, now down, now up, across the valleys, 
 along the path of the coast guards, close to the sea. 
 The sky was clear. Under the cheerful light their 
 unhappy condition seemed even more sad. 
 
 First came Elise, the least bent, the least over.
 
 #4 A FISHER GIRL OF FRANCE. 
 
 come. Her glances searched the horizon without 
 ceasing, as if in a last hope. One would have said 
 that she expected to see the boat which had carried 
 off Firmin come sweeping before the breeze. Her 
 thoughts wandered away, dreamy and tender, 
 toward the boy whom she could not forget. 
 
 Next came the men, bent like beasts of burden, 
 their eyes fixed on the ground. 
 
 Last of all came the captain, more despondent, 
 more stricken than the others, his large back bent, 
 not under the weight of his kit he would not have 
 minded ten times as much ; the burden which 
 weighed him down was one which his strong shoul- 
 ders had not felt before. Defeat was a heavy load 
 for him. Until to-day, he had laughed at bad luck, 
 had hardly pitied those whose lives he had seen 
 shipwrecked. Oh, this Lison !
 
 A SAD RETURN. 
 
 Chap. 9.
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 THE sky seemed to mock them. Swept by the 
 winds, it was of a limpid blue, that deep summer 
 blue which is mirrored back on the surface of the sea. 
 
 Two leagues on their way the sailors came in 
 sight of a village. From the height where they 
 were they could see it beneath them, nestling in a 
 hollow of the cliff. It was a coast village, without 
 harbor or boats. The houses were clustered to- 
 gether, half hidden by tender foliage. Here, at 
 least, one should be happy. The fishers earned 
 their living from the beach, without fear of tem- 
 pests, and this peaceful nook at this early morning 
 hour, sparkling in the sunlight, seemed so cheerful 
 that the men stopped, moved by a vague longing 
 for comfort and rest. 
 
 They were trying to pick out the tavern, when 
 Florimond overtook them. He was in no mood to 
 enjoy seeing others happy, and his ill-humor awoke 
 at the sight of the peaceful picture below them. 
 
 "No, truly, we will not let them see our wretch- 
 edness. We can avoid the village by turning off 
 through the fields. These landlubbers, who stuff 
 themselves until they fall asleep, would be only too 
 happy to see a procession of shipwrecked mariners. 
 People who are fortunate love to make merry over 
 the troubles of others. Go on, my lads starboard." 
 
 8s
 
 86 A FISH EX GIRL OF FRANCE. 
 
 The men did not agree with him. When they 
 left the boat they became their own masters again, 
 and proposed to make use of their liberty. A sailor 
 ashore has no captain but his own inclination. 
 
 Barnabe spoke up : 
 
 "Are these landlubbers going to prevent our hav- 
 ing a drink?" 
 
 And they all began the descent. 
 
 "You pack of dry gullets," cried Florimond ; 
 "may you be soaked with water like an old 
 swab !" 
 
 Then in a rage, he turned toward the fields. 
 
 Elise could not resist a feeling of pity to see 
 him set off deserted by them all. Frank and tender- 
 hearted, she was wretched at the sight of this strong 
 man so upset by ill-fortune; this captain, so proud 
 and confident in his warfare with the sea, so pitiable 
 in his trouble. She suffered from his unjust suspi- 
 cions, but in spite of all, she was not able to repress 
 the impulses of her generous nature. Involuntarily, 
 in an outburst of sympathy, she went to him. 
 
 "Cousin Florimond, let me go with you. You 
 will not be so lonely if we are together! " 
 
 "Get away, traitress, get away." 
 
 He could not utter another word. His eyes were 
 bloodshot. His lips stammered out weak abuse. 
 He raised his hand high above his head, then let it 
 fall against his side, and turning, hurried away 
 through the bright sunshine. 
 
 "You are unjust to me, Cousin Florimond." 
 
 Elise dropped down on the bank by the roadside. 
 For some minutes she watched his disappearing fig-
 
 A I*' 1*1 ILK <;/AV. OI- I-KAXCE, 87 
 
 ure. She admired him so much that in her inmost 
 heart she forgave him. 
 
 She laid her kit beside her, and leaned on her 
 elbow, resting her head on her hand. Her thoughts 
 were sad. But presently her eye turned toward the 
 deep blue sky overhead, where the white clouds 
 were sailing, then to the north, where the cliffs fell 
 away and the dunes began, then to the horizon, 
 where the Bay of Somme indented the sandy coast. 
 She rose to her feet. Down yonder, beyond the 
 dark mass of St. Valery, on the other side of the 
 white line which marked the bay, she might perhaps 
 be able to make out the steeple of Crotoy, with its 
 fortress-like tower. No. In this strong sunlight 
 everything was blurred. Through the warm, palpi- 
 tating air, even objects best known and most loved 
 were indistinct. 
 
 But, as if it were before her, she saw in her own 
 mind her native village and the empty cottage. 
 Might she not cherish a little hope? Who could 
 tell ! Perhaps Firmin had met some friendly boat, 
 which had taken him aboard. Perhaps he was 
 already at home and impatient at his sister's delay, 
 this lad who was so little used to waiting. 
 
 She would have liked to believe it, but she had 
 had so little happiness that she was distrustful. 
 
 But if Firmin were not there Silvere would be, 
 and he would understand and help her. There was 
 one person, at least, in the world, who loved her. 
 For, as to her boy, she knew well that she lavished 
 on him more tenderness than he would ever give 
 back. Perhaps he had already fallen in love with a
 
 88 A FISHER GIRL OF FRANCE. 
 
 life of adventure on the flambart and forgotten his 
 home. He was so strong and confident. 
 
 At the very thought of such a desertion Elise 
 began to tremble. No. The boy was obstinate, 
 but he had a good heart. He would surely come 
 back. It was more likely that he was unhappy, 
 and calling despairingly for his sister. His last cry 
 of distress on the deck of the flambart still rang in 
 her ears. 
 
 From their description of her, it was known at the 
 bureau at Treport that the flambart belonged to one 
 of the principal ship-owners of the large seaport of 
 Escaut. This reassured her. She would know 
 where to make inquiries. The owners of the boat 
 had always preferred to pay damages rather than to 
 risk coming into court in such a case as theirs was 
 now. 
 
 Filled with hope, Elise took up her march. In a 
 breath she had passed the village, and leaving the 
 sea turned inland along the St. Valery road, which, 
 dusty and interminable, stretched away between 
 two rows of trees, stunted and twisted by the \vest 
 wind. 
 
 Five leagues of this gloomy journey passed. 
 Elise was more tired in heart than in body. The 
 country did not interest her in the least. It seemed 
 shut in and contracted. One could see only patches 
 of the sky; the air was close and heavy. The 
 horizon could be almost touched by the hand. The 
 soil was so poor, so hard to till, that it was cultivat- 
 ed only in small patches; the plough furrows were 
 hardly a cable's length. What a contrast to the
 
 SHE SAW, ACROSS THE BAY, THE LITTLE VILLAGE WITH 
 ITS WHITE HOUSES. 
 
 Chap. 10.
 
 A FISHER GIRL OF FRANCE. 89 
 
 open sea. How the chest expanded there ! What 
 mighty breaths one drew! And one took less time 
 to turn a sea furrow from north to south than it 
 would require to plough a field no longer than a 
 harbor. 
 
 Sea life is broad and generous. It stirs one's 
 mental activity, while it strengthens one's body. 
 Elise was in haste to see it again, this sea, as beau- 
 tiful in its rage as when at peace; this sea, which 
 had made her courageous and strong, and would 
 make Firmin courageous and strong also. 
 
 At last, at a turn of the road, the whole Bay of 
 Somme, with its quiet waves gliding under the rays 
 of the setting sun, lay before her. Bathed in a 
 golden mist, she saw, across the bay, the little village 
 with its white houses; she recognized the little cot- 
 tage hidden away behind the sandy hillocks half 
 way up the dunes. Was the chimney smoking? 
 Could Firmin have returned? No, it was a house 
 adjoining. The cottage was still empty. She 
 would sleep alone in it that night. 
 
 But she could not sleep. Overcome by her emo- 
 tion, troubled at heart, feverish after her long tramp, 
 Elise sought in vain for the sleep that eluded her. 
 Never had her room seemed so lonely, so disquiet- 
 ing as now. A ray of moonlight, entering through 
 the window-panes, fell across its shadows. 
 
 At first the melancholy of the night induced wan- 
 dering thoughts. Then she gazed at the door and 
 window, which seemed to vibrate in the trembling 
 moonlight. Then, as her eyes accustomed them- 
 selves to the shadows, Elise was seized with a sort
 
 9 A FISHED GIRL OF FRANCE. 
 
 of supernatural terror. She was not asleep, but her 
 open eyes seemed to behold the unreal substance of 
 dreams. 
 
 "Father, is it you? Father, answer me!" 
 
 She thought herself asleep. It is only in dreams 
 that one has visions of the dead. She looked all 
 around the room to be certain that she was actually 
 awake. 
 
 Yes, she was awake. In the soft light of the 
 moon she recognized distinctly, one after the other, 
 familiar objects, just as she had found them on her 
 return : the little bed where Firmin slept, in the 
 closet under the garret stairs; the large sideboard, 
 where, under a glass, was her mother's marriage 
 bouquet, a huge rose with gold leaves, and on either 
 side of it the two candlesticks. Nets and fishing 
 implements hung on the walls or from the beams of 
 the ceiling. All these old friends of her past life 
 she saw clearly, each outline and color distinct. 
 
 No, she was not asleep, but none the less she 
 could not look toward the door without seeing 
 before her a face sweet and sad, clear-eyed and 
 wrinkled. 
 
 "Father, what do you wish?" 
 
 For tht first time since she had lost her father 
 Elise saw him again, just as he was in life, with his 
 otter hat, his red neckerchief, and his brown shirt. 
 He complained softly that she had bestowed all her 
 care on Firmin and had left him, her father, to lie in 
 the sands at the bottom of the sea. She had not 
 made every possible effort with the authorities to 
 have the place dragged, as had been done before,
 
 A FISHER GIRL OF FRAN-CE. 9 1 
 
 so that his body might be recovered and laid in holy 
 ground, where his soul could rest in peace. 
 
 And he told her punishment. Elise should not 
 see again the brother whom she had too jealously 
 loved, until she had earned him by her filial devo- 
 tion. Unhappy Elise! She was seated on her bed, 
 and her two hands stretched toward the spectre, 
 which would not leave her; she poured out, with all 
 the confidence of a soul possessed, her excuses, her 
 promises, her prayers. 
 
 "Father, I swear to you that I will know no rest 
 until I have laid you beside mother." 
 
 Then, as if the spectre had moved into the moon- 
 light, it suddenly became distinct. 
 
 Elise had seen it up to this time only through the 
 enveloping shadows which softened the rough out- 
 lines, but in this new light the figure seemed drawn 
 by suffering. The complexion, formerly bronzed 
 by the sea, was pale, the wrinkles were deep-set, the 
 cheeks, once so full of laughter and health, were thin 
 from long agony, and the eyes which a moment ago, 
 in the shadow, seemed full of a caressing light, were 
 now sunken and full of reproachful sadness and 
 melancholy resignation. 
 
 Emaciated, and with face nearly as white as beard 
 and hair, her father seemed to have arisen from the 
 sleepless night of a long illness. He could not rest 
 in his sandy prison under the sea, with its endless 
 currents, the sport of waves, fought over by sea 
 monsters. They cannot cry like sea birds, these 
 voracious dogs of the sea, but their battles are no less 
 noisy. How could a soul rest in peace among them?
 
 9 2 A FISHER GIRL OF FRANCE. 
 
 Elise had noted all the marks of suffering on the 
 pale face, she had read there all his reproaches. She 
 knew now too late, that she should, before anything 
 else, have sought her father's body, that she might 
 lay it in consecrated ground. 
 
 "Father, father, I swear to lay you to rest in the 
 churchyard. And after that you will let me see 
 Firmin again?" 
 
 And not to delay for a moment the execution of 
 her oath, Elise put on her dress and went out.
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 THE night was soft, moonlit, and silent. There 
 was not a sound in the village, not a breath of air to 
 awaken the sleeping life. The cock, turning on his 
 rod at the top of the steeple, did not creak; there 
 was not the sound of a blind slamming against a 
 wall; not even the furtive step of a marauding cat. 
 Nothing could be heard except the rhythmic beat- 
 ing of the waves on the beach, and very far away on 
 the heights, in the direction of the graveyard, the 
 plaintive howlings of a dog, wailing to the dead. 
 
 It must be the captain's dog. During the fifteen 
 days that she had been away, Elise had not thought 
 of her good friend, the shaggy-coated and brave 
 fellow, who said so many sweet things to her with 
 his thoughtful eyes. She could hear him still. It 
 was he, without doubt, but his voice seemed a little 
 deeper than usual. Why was he howling so dis- 
 mally, and so far away? Could he have lost his 
 master? Elise had returned late the night before. 
 
 She had not heard the news. Could the poor 
 captain have died? 
 
 The captain enjoyed great consideration in the 
 village, not only on account of his merit, but on 
 account of his rank. It is true that he was only an 
 officer of the coast guards, who had been for a long 
 time on the retired list, but he was better known
 
 94 A FISHER GIRL OF FRANCE. 
 
 than any of the officers of those parts. Eating little 
 and drinking less, he spent the greater part of his 
 pension in stuffing with dainties the village children, 
 and in feeding his dog Barbet, his only friend and 
 the friend of his whole life. 
 
 For twenty-five years he had lived in close com- 
 radeship with the same dog, this dog who was now 
 watching on his tomb. The same dog? It was not 
 possible, at least, to tell when he was changed. His 
 history was very simple. Like the greater part of 
 the coast guards, the captain had adopted a dog on 
 entering the service. The first of the Barbcts had 
 long, coarse hair. One day he had saved the cap- 
 tain from drowning, and from that time he had 
 treated him as a brother and faithful companion. 
 And this friendship had lasted fifteen years; fifteen 
 years the life of a dog. Barbet, grown old, had 
 gently come to his end, but he had left a son as 
 shaggy as himself, with long hair, always full of 
 thistle-heads, collected from the hedges. Gentle as 
 his father, the second of the family had the same 
 intelligent and kind look, the same affection for his 
 master. The captain had fed him in the same way, 
 had taught him in the same way, and had raised him 
 to the same rank. They were both corporals, the Bar- 
 bets, the son as well as the father. On the days of 
 inspection, before the superior officer who passed 
 through the town, Barbet advanced at the word of 
 command, his chevron under his chin, after the 
 ancient fashion, and a stripe of silver on his legs. 
 
 He was proud of these honors, because he had 
 earned them by force of application. He knew the
 
 A FlSUER GIRL OF FRANCE. 95 
 
 drill, but that he considered as nothing. He was 
 not proud, for all the dogs of the company knew as 
 much. He had a real cause for pride which no one 
 could dispute. He had not an equal in recognizing, 
 at a distance, the boats of his friends. 
 
 From the coast-guard station on the height of the 
 dune, he could see them as they arrived from sea, 
 and could distinguish them better than any man or 
 woman. He announced them after a fashion of his 
 own, by distinct barks. All the people of the vil- 
 lage had learned to know what the barks meant. 
 During bad weather, when the women, awaiting the 
 return of their husbands, could just make out, lost 
 in the white foam of the sea, a bit of sail above a 
 black hull, they would consult Barbet. Three barks 
 it was the boat of Baptiste Henin. Elise, while 
 still a child, on hearing him name her father in this 
 way, had wept, while her mother, with an eye from 
 which the fire of anxiety had dried the tears, 
 watched the strife of the little boat against the 
 heavy sea. 
 
 No; it is not Henin's boat. We can see two 
 masts. It is the sloop of big Poidevin. Look 
 again, Barbet. The dog would dilate his nostrils in 
 the wind. Through his long hair his fawn-colored 
 eyes would shine like gleaming points. Three barks 
 again. Yes, it is Henin's boat. She comes as if she 
 were flying ; one mast only ; Barbet is right. And 
 when the boat, pitching and rolling through the 
 tumbling sea, drew near enough to be recognized by 
 all, then it was that Barbet was triumphant, barking 
 every time that the hull disappeared in the waves
 
 96 A FISHER GIRL OF FRANCE. 
 
 and reappeared on their crest. When, after hours 
 of anguish, that seemed longer than a whole exist- 
 ence, the crowd, massed on the dune, finally see the 
 boat reach the harbor, and are all hurrying to assist 
 at her arrival, Barbet follows them in their joyful 
 course. When they arrive at the harbor, he tugs 
 on the ropes that make her fast, then barks joyfully, 
 while all the dogs in the town re-echo his cries like 
 a note of victory. 
 
 All these recollections of her infancy, at the same 
 time sweet and sad, come back to Elise, while she 
 stands listening to the howling of Barbet on the 
 dune. Poor. Barbet! He was the third of his race, 
 still young and strong in proportion. Elise had 
 known only two of them, but she could not tell 
 them apart any more than their master could. 
 
 But whether there were one or two, it was always 
 the same Barbet, simple as a tale, lasting as a tradi- 
 tion. What was the use of a pedigree in a family 
 where the descendant was as good as his ancestor, 
 and when from grandfather to grandson the same 
 intelligent and kind spirit animated them all under 
 the same body? 
 
 Barbet ought to know thoroughly the history of 
 the village. He had brought up all the children, 
 and it was he who took them to school. He had 
 learned the hour for going and coming, and he 
 arrived punctually, in order to watch over them on 
 the route. He was a strong hand for discipline. 
 He detested an abuse of power or injustice. It was 
 a bad day for the older children if they struck the 
 younger.
 
 A FISHER GIRL OF FRANCE. 97 
 
 Barbet's mission was to look after the children. 
 He set himself to discharge it, exactly as his master 
 had taught him. Never would he have permitted 
 these little shavers, no higher than himself, to go to 
 school alone. He gathered them into a company 
 from all sides, their books under their arms, their tin 
 forks tinkling against the iron plates in their baskets. 
 Barbet opened his ears at this sound, because his 
 little friends each kept for him a dainty morsel. It 
 was the voluntary tithe of the weak to the strong 
 who protected them. He did not return to the 
 coast-guard station until after he had seen them 
 safely home, one after another, down to the last. 
 
 Eiise had gone to school with him for a long time. 
 She was his favorite, and he displayed so much zeal 
 in her defence that he would show his teeth if any 
 one even feigned to attack her. She had kept for 
 him always the most dainty part of her dinner, she 
 had caressed him with her little hand, she had 
 looked into his eyes, bending her little cunning head 
 above him. The little girl and the dog were always 
 together at playtime. And on the dune they 
 amused themselves chasing, and playing tag, and 
 rolling on the sand, or still more often they looked 
 out over the sea, and played at recognizing the 
 barks, like two corporals in service. 
 
 Later on, when she had become larger, Elise had 
 left school. Then she had entrusted Firmin to Bar- 
 bet. Unfortunately they were not on good terms. 
 Firmin did not wish to be looked after, and Barbet 
 would not relax his duty. So came about difficul- 
 ties, which neither the interposition of Elise, nor
 
 98 A FISHER GIRL OF FRANCE. 
 
 even that of the captain, were able to prevent. 
 Elise had been troubled by quarrels, which were 
 renewed every day more fiercely. The boy would 
 box Barbet's ears, would pull him by the tail, put 
 burrs on his head, and in his eyes. The dog, driv- 
 ing the boy before him by barking and by pre- 
 tended bites, would snap at his calves, now right, 
 now left, and oblige him to march at the end of the 
 company, like the naughty boy of a class. And 
 when Barbet brought him home, Elise always found 
 her brother's face streaked with tears. 
 
 She comforted the spoiled child, and felt unkindly 
 toward Barbet for the rough penance which he 
 inflicted upon the little chap, who was so beautiful 
 even in his sulkiness. With a burst of maternal 
 tenderness, she dried his great moist eyes and brown 
 .cheeks, where the tears were still running, and 
 quieted the last gasp of the little sobbing heart. 
 
 "Do not weep any more, my little man, I will 
 scold this naughty Barbet." But Barbet never was 
 scolded, because he had only done his duty. 
 
 All these details of the time when she had lived 
 in careless happiness came back to Elise as a con- 
 soling and refreshing thought. She walked slowly 
 under the soft light, lost in revery, recalling, one by 
 one, these times of her infancy, so sadly sweet and 
 so far away. And, losing herself in her memories of 
 the past, she forgot the hard reality of the present, 
 and Barbet's howlings, half heard, seemed like the 
 echo of forgotten sadness. 
 
 She was recalled to herself on finding that she was
 
 A FISHER GIRL OF FRANCE. 99 
 
 at the door of a little house just out of the village, 
 hidden among the trees on the edge of a stream. 
 She had some difficulty in recalling how and why 
 she had come there. She was at Silvere's door. 
 
 But was this a proper time to present herself at 
 her fiances house? She waited some minutes, and 
 listened to hear if the church clock would strike, 
 then impatient of the least delay, she looked at the 
 moon, and from her height in the heavens, knew 
 that it was about midnight. 
 
 After all, why should she hesitate? Was not Sil- 
 vere's mother an excellent woman, who would be 
 happy to receive her in her trouble? All came back 
 to her. Could she have been so troubled as to for- 
 get already the double task laid on her, that of find- 
 ing Firmin and her father? Who would aid her if 
 not Silvere? 
 
 Again she heard Barbet, who was howling long 
 and plaintively. It broke her heart. She would 
 have liked to go to him to protect and console him 
 in her turn. But if he were in the graveyard, how 
 could she go there without meeting the ghosts 
 which dance about the graves? 
 
 And at this baleful thought Elise saw again before 
 her her father's spectre, like the ghost of a remorse 
 which would not leave her. Seized by superstitious 
 fears, she knocked nervously at the door. 
 
 She waited a long time and exchanged many 
 words before she succeeded in having it opened. 
 At last the bolt clicked, the lock turned, the door 
 swung half open, and in the doorway stood Silvere's 
 mother, an old woman with a sharp voice but a kind
 
 loo A F1SI1ER GIRL OF FRANCE. 
 
 look. She was only half dressed, and her chemise 
 only partly concealed her strong shoulders and her 
 old wrinkled arms. 
 
 "Alas, my poor daughter, what has happened to 
 bring you out at such an hour? The living do not 
 walk at night. You must go home." 
 
 The old woman barred the door with her two 
 arms, as Elise stood on the sill. 
 
 "Return home, my poor daughter. You seem 
 like a ghost." The moon shone fully in the old 
 woman's face, but Elise had never seen on her kind 
 features such an expression of distrust and disquiet. 
 She was so disturbed that she had hardly strength 
 to speak. 
 
 "Mother Pilote, I need advice, and I come to ask 
 it of Silvere. I cannot wait." 
 
 "Silvere has gone away, my daughter. Fishing 
 from the beach he found stupid work. The village 
 was not to his taste after you had gone. He signed 
 papers with big Poidevin on the Jcunc-Adolphinc. 
 He thought that he should see you in the Scotch 
 seas. He has taken a roundabout way to meet 
 you." 
 
 When she heard that her lover was gone, the only 
 one on whom she could depend, Elise felt as if a 
 gulf opened before her into which sank her last 
 hopes. Everything gave way at once, her courage 
 and her strength. She leaned on the upright of the 
 door to keep herself from falling, but the old wom- 
 an, thinking that she wished to enter, pushed her 
 firmly but compassionately aside. 
 
 "You must go home, my daughter."
 
 THE OLD WOMAN BARRED THE DOOR WITH HER TWO ARMS 
 AS ELISE STOOD ON THE SILL. 
 
 Chap. II.
 
 A FISHER GIRL OF FRANCE. IOI 
 
 From the height of the dune came again Barbet's 
 howls. He had stopped from exhaustion, but now 
 took up again his lugubrious wail, making the night 
 sorrowful. 
 
 "You hear him," said the old woman. "He is 
 possessed. They buried the captain two days ago. 
 He cannot rest quietly, or Barbet would not bewail 
 him so loudly. You must go home, my daughter." 
 
 "Mother Pilote, do not send me away. I do not 
 dare to go to my house. I have seen the ghost of 
 my father." 
 
 The face of the old woman contracted with a 
 strange look, and her lips moved feverishly. "Go 
 away, my daughter, you bring bad luck to others. 
 Last night Florimond returned from his cruise. He 
 has told everything. You have ruined him. It is 
 not your fault. Your father's soul is in torment. 
 I am afraid for my poor Silvere." 
 
 "Mother Pilote, listen to me. I have seen the 
 ghost of my father." 
 
 "Go away, you bring bad luck!" 
 
 And, as the old woman rudely closed the door, 
 Elise sank upon the sill, alone in the world, and 
 overcome by her troubles. 
 
 At that moment Barbet broke the stillness. He 
 had suddenly stopped howling, and was uttering 
 short barks that seemed like voices of consolation 
 and a summons to her to hope. 
 
 " The soul of his master has found repose," thought 
 Elise, and raising herself, as if moved by some 
 strange presentiment, she walked toward the grave- 
 yard. The clock on the tower struck midnight.
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 ABANDONED by the living, Elise turned to the 
 dead, whose quiet peace seemed to her so sweet. 
 She reached the graveyard well before the first rays 
 of the dawn had lightened the eastern sky. It was 
 still night, but in the half light of the moon there 
 seemed about her mysterious beings of uncertain 
 form and colors pale and unreal. 
 
 In climbing the dune Elise had often looked out 
 toward the open sea to the spot where a murmur- 
 ing and a silvery whitening of the waves marked 
 the shoals. It was there that her father lay with 
 the others under the treacherous wave. But exactly 
 where? The shoals were large. 
 
 At the thought of petitioning the administration 
 and taking the other necessary steps, Elise was 
 greatly troubled, so afraid was she of the officials. 
 She had never entered a maritime bureau, and knew, 
 only by hearsay, that the men whom she would 
 meet treated the poor harshly. What should she 
 say to them? That she had seen her father in 
 bodily presence in the night, and that she had been 
 bidden to find his body and to lay it to rest in 
 earth; tliat she was not rich enough to meet the 
 expense, and that she had come to beg them to send 
 divers in order to snatch him from the engulfing 
 sands.
 
 A FISHER GIRL OF FRANCE. 103 
 
 But they would demand the exact spot where he 
 lay, and her father had not told it. They could not 
 dig up all the Vergoyer. Surely that was what 
 they would say. If her father wished to be found, 
 he must tell where he was. 
 
 Elise wore herself out devising unfeasible plans. 
 A fancy seized her to run to the wharf, to seize the 
 first boat she came to, and to sail alone to the Ver- 
 goyer. There she would invoke her father to make 
 his presence known. She had heard that a little 
 flame would dance on the water at the spot where a 
 body lay. But at the thought of seeing this palpi- 
 tating soul she was seized with tremors. 
 
 How wretched she was! She was, perhaps, the 
 only one in the village who had no relatives. All 
 the other girls, in trouble such as hers, would have 
 had a grandfather, or an uncle, to help them. 
 There was no one to help her but Cousin Flori- 
 mond, who detested her, and Silvere, her betrothed, 
 who loved her, but was away. 
 
 Unable to depend on any one, she had gone to the 
 churchyard to see Barbet, and to pray on the grave 
 of her mother, where she hoped to find solace for 
 her sorrows. 
 
 She felt her hand tremble in lifting the latch of 
 the little gate, and was frightened at the stillness. 
 The tide was out, and the sea was at peace. Noth- 
 ing stirred. There was not a sound of life. 
 
 Barbet had ceased barking. Elise had come in 
 answer to his call, and now that she was there he 
 was silent in distrust he also, as if he were waiting 
 to see what impious creature dared, at this hour, to
 
 104 A FISHER GIRL OF FRANCE. 
 
 enter this field of shadows to disturb the sanctity 
 of their memory. 
 
 She hesitated a long while. She stood with her 
 fingers on the latch, and did not dare to look 
 through the bars of the gate into this graveyard, 
 where, under the trembling moonlight, the wooden 
 crosses seemed to be joining in a dance of death. 
 
 If Barbet would only howl, would only bark once. 
 
 "Barbet! Barbet!" 
 
 A howl answered her, but more unearthly than 
 the night, more mysterious than this spirit-filled 
 space about her. Oh ! There were ghosts every- 
 where ! 
 
 Yielding to a wild desire to escape these super- 
 natural beings, Elise turned and fled. She ran 
 breathlessly toward the fields. There she was sure 
 at least of meeting things which were really alive; 
 trees whose leaves rustled in the breeze, beasts 
 sleeping an earthly sleep in the fields where they 
 fed. 
 
 She ran on, terror-stricken, leaping fences and 
 streams, imagining herself pursued. She seemed to 
 hear a footstep behind her, and ran more madly still 
 through the damp meadow-grasses, knee-high, 
 happy at feeling and touching objects that were 
 real, at breathing the strong odors that were born of 
 life. She threw herself into the midst of a herd of 
 cows who, waking with a start, rose to their knees, 
 and dropped their heads to face an attack, and, the 
 danger passed, sunk down again heavily, dropping 
 off at once into the dreamless sleep of an animai. 
 
 Elise recovered her calmness in this contact with
 
 SHE QUICKENED HER PACE, PRESSING HER HEAVING CHEST 
 WITH BOTH HANDS. 
 
 Chap. 12.
 
 A FISHER GIRL OF FRANCE. l5 
 
 nature. She had never imagined it so cheering and 
 so friendly. She had despised the country, for 
 there all is so pretty, one cannot move without find- 
 ing a place of shelter or protection. How different 
 this from the sea, where one sails for days and 
 nights without seeing aught but infinite space. 
 
 How sweet the odor of the ripe wheat and the 
 hops still green, the reflection of the moon in the 
 pools, the deep shadows of the trees. How will- 
 ingly would she lie down there in the long grass. 
 
 But behind her there followed in hot pursuit 
 something whose form she could not divine. The 
 cows seemed to look queerly at her as she passed 
 them. She did not dare to turn, she would die of 
 fear if she should look behind and see what she 
 feared. She quickened her pace, pressing her heav- 
 ing chest with both hands. She feared to stop, lest 
 she should find herself face to face with this ghostly 
 pursuing phantom. 
 
 She hoped for daylight to dissipate her fears, but 
 the first light of morning had not yet shown when 
 she sank down breathless and spent, in the midst of 
 a field. There she lay unconscious, and, worn out 
 by all she had gone through, fell into a heavy sleep. 
 
 The sun was high when she awoke, confused, and 
 with every fibre relaxed by the healthful rest which 
 had followed the hours of fever. Her eyes, still 
 heavy, sought the sun's brightness, and her pale lips 
 opened to breathe the pure morning air. She 
 inhaled sweet odors. Then, as she stretched her 
 arms to shake off her lassitude, she drew back sud-
 
 106 A FISHER GIRL OF FRANCE. 
 
 denly with a start, for hei hand was licked by a 
 rough, wet tongue. Involuntarily she turned about, 
 and, recollection coming suddenly, was seized again 
 with fright and buried her face in her hands. 
 
 But around her, as if that moment he had thrown 
 off all allegiance to his dead master, Barbet was 
 dancing gleefully. He poked his nose into her 
 hands, into her face, her neck, and in a kind of 
 intoxication of affection and of joyful fidelity, barked 
 and whined softly, as if he meant to swear everlasting 
 devotion. He seemed to say to poor Elise that she 
 ought not to fear or despair, since she had a friend, 
 a friend older than she, but strong and desirous to 
 serve her. 
 
 It was not Barbet 's ghost, but Barbet himself, 
 with real shaggy hair and real barks. It was not a 
 dream. Happy in the reality, Elise seated herself, 
 quieted by this unexpected help, and hugging him 
 in her arms, talked to him : first, of the years that 
 were gone, and how he had taken care of her, and 
 afterward the little Firmin, who would doubtless 
 soon return, self-reliant as ever. And Barbet rubbed 
 his big head against the heaving breast of his chosen 
 friend. He looked at her with a steady, friendly 
 glance, but she in her overflowing happiness kissed 
 his face ; his eyes, that knew so well how to read in 
 the great book of nature; his nose, whose subtle 
 keenness found out the meaning of so many hidden 
 secrets. 
 
 "Barbet, old Barbet. It was you who followed 
 me. Why did you not let me know it was you?" 
 
 Yes, Barbet had followed her. She alone had
 
 A FISHER GIRL OF FRANCE. 107 
 
 power to make him forget his dead master. There 
 was many a one in the village who would have been 
 glad to receive him, as a rare legacy, as a traditional 
 curiosity. The day when his master died they had 
 dragged him from the coffin, and shut him up in the 
 coast-guard station of which he had been the pride 
 so many years. Rather than submit to a new ser- 
 vice he would have let himself die of famine. He 
 had escaped, and made his way to the grave, where 
 over the newly turned earth he had bewailed his lost 
 friend. 
 
 There again they had gone after him. Nowhere 
 will men willingly lose objects in which they take 
 pride. Barbet was celebrated on the whole coast 
 from Dieppe to Boulogne. Could they lose the 
 glory of their village? But faithful to the captain's 
 memory, he had resisted all attempts which had 
 been made to draw him away. They had given up 
 their attempts at last. They had not dared to take 
 him away by force, and on the tomb of the master 
 whom he did not wish to outlive, he was waiting for 
 death, when he had scented Elise. 
 
 His old friend, this kind Elise, had come there 
 in a time of trouble. He saw her climb the dune 
 alone, without protection or sympathy. Then he 
 remembered how the captain had loved her, how 
 she had been kind to the lonely man when alone 
 and ill in his old age. 
 
 Barbet decided that if his master could speak he 
 would bid him love Elise, and return her a watchful 
 affection and vigilant protection for her cares for 
 him. He had decided to live for her, to whom his
 
 lo8 A FISHER GIRL OF FRANCE. 
 
 master would certainly have left him, if death had 
 not come so suddenly. When she had called him, 
 he had answered the cry of her heart with an emo- 
 tion strong and deep, but she had not understood 
 and had fled in fright. He had leaped over the wall 
 and had followed her softly, wishing not to add to 
 her terror. And now, through his master's death, 
 they were to be friends for life. 
 
 "You are all dirty, old Barbet," said Elise sud- 
 denly between two tears, "we shall have to make 
 our toilet together." And she led the dog to the 
 nearest pool.
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 ELISE had made her toilet, and Barbet was beau- 
 tiful to see as they entered the village together. 
 But as they passed along the good people drew 
 aside, and mothers made haste to call their children 
 into the house. When they reached the Grand 
 Place they saw groups of sailors and coast guards 
 talking loudly, and heard the noise of wrangling in 
 the sailors' tavern. 
 
 Florimond's voice was above all others. "She is 
 a sorceress ! She is possessed !" 
 
 Just then a man ran into the tavern, and immedi- 
 ately the sailors came out on the doorsteps, Flori- 
 mond in their midst, crying: 
 
 "Look, Barnabe ; do you still persist that I am a 
 liar? Look at the captain's ghost walking with 
 Elise." 
 
 The sailors of the Bon-Pecheur were all there, 
 except the four who had been lost in the small 
 boat. They had spent the day before in drinking, 
 had tramped during the night, and had arrived that 
 morning, crossing the bay at low tide. They had 
 heard at once the reports in the village, that Elise, 
 since the death of her father, was possessed, that 
 she could cast a spell, and that she would be freed 
 only when her father's body was recovered. 
 
 Mother Pilote was the cause of all this. Since 
 109
 
 110 A FISHER GIRL OF FRANCE. 
 
 dawn she had gone from house to house telling of 
 the visit which Elise had paid her at midnight, the 
 hour when the dead return to earth again. She had 
 stopped at one door after another, and had repeated 
 the same story. If her father had appeared to 
 demand help, it was without doubt because he had 
 a sin to expiate. She remembered that once, on a 
 night in March, her husband had heard in the neigh- 
 borhood of the Vergoyer, the groanings of an old 
 corsair of Berck, who was drowned a few days 
 before, and whose soul could not rest. 
 
 She was full of laments that her son was be- 
 trothed to Elise. It was too late now to forestall 
 ill-luck, because Silvere was at sea. Doubtless she 
 would never see him again. She had done her best 
 to prevent his sailing. Nothing would keep him 
 back. And such a fine young fellow, and so good ! 
 He was just twenty-four years old. He could have 
 passed the examination at Saint Valery, and become 
 a pilot, as his father was before him. He need not 
 have quitted the bay. But young people will not 
 listen to reason. 
 
 And Silvere's old mother wept as if her son were 
 lost to her forever. She was just finishing her dole- 
 ful journey through the village, and had appeared on 
 one side of the Place at the very moment when 
 Elise, with Barbet, arrived on the other. 
 
 At a glance, Elise had seen that the sailors were 
 not favorably disposed toward her. Their eyes 
 were distrustful, and even threatening. She could 
 not imagine why. On their part, they had no doubt 
 that the reports were true. Could this Lison have
 
 A FISHER GIRL OF FRANCE. m 
 
 been able to handle the boat all alone, if she had 
 been like other women? Surely, she was possessed. 
 This was the reason that the small boat had been 
 lost, with the four men. Their relatives ought to 
 put on mourning for the whole four. The idea had 
 gained such credence that Chretien's mother, the 
 wives of the two big fellows, and the children of the 
 old sailor had not dared to go out without wearing 
 black. 
 
 Nothing could have now destroyed the wide- 
 spread belief in the evil influence of Elise. The 
 poor child, at the ill-natured looks which greeted 
 her on all sides, was stirred to her very soul. Just 
 then she saw Mother Pilote. She ran to her, sure 
 of a friend and protector. The old woman recoiled 
 in fright. 
 
 "Alas, my daughter! You have destroyed my 
 son, do not destroy me, too." 
 
 The groups of sailors and coast guards had come 
 close to her. Their noisy talking and their loud 
 jeers had drawn the people from the neighboring 
 streets. The whole square was suddenly overrun. 
 Elise stopped. She did not dare to go on. On the 
 right were Florimond and his sailors, behind them 
 groups no less ill-disposed. On the left was the 
 harbor and the sea; the sea even more treacherous 
 than men. 
 
 Elise shivered from the soles of her feet to the 
 roots of her hair. Without knowing why, she saw 
 that she stood alone, that she was not only aban- 
 doned but repudiated, disgraced, and cast adrift. 
 This was Florimond's revenge.
 
 H2 A FISHER GIRL OF FRANCE. 
 
 What could have made the captain so spiteful? 
 He was gesticulating triumphantly. They knew 
 now why he had failed in his fishing, lost his nets, 
 and injured his boat. Could the most skilful cap- 
 tain have succeeded against the wiles of a sor- 
 ceress? 
 
 As if to support his charges, Barbet, who had 
 been walking with ears down and tail between his 
 legs, suddenly waked up. He made the rounds of 
 the Place, smelled of the groups, and returned to 
 Elise with plaintive whines, trying to show his devo- 
 tion by licking her hand and by affectionate leaps. 
 She did not repulse him. Having only one friend, 
 she could not discourage the expression of his frank 
 and strong sympathy. She accepted his caresses, 
 and returned them. 
 
 Encouraged by this, Barbet began to act excit- 
 edly. He ran from group to group, growling and 
 snarling; then he returned to Elise, good-natured 
 and full of affection. It was his fashion of showing 
 these perverse Christians that they were not worth 
 as much as a dog in divining the tortures of a suffer- 
 ing soul. One would have said that he took pleas- 
 ure in his own performance, for becoming more and 
 more excited, he went through it a hundred times, 
 more and more feverishly, contorting himself until 
 he leaped about like a crazy dog. 
 
 From different sides of the Place came the same 
 shouts. 
 
 "They are possessed, both of them! Let us kill 
 them !" 
 
 "They will bring sickness on the village!"
 
 A FISHER GIRL OF FRANCE. "3 
 
 "They will shipwreck our boats!" 
 
 "They must die !" Some of the most drunken 
 sailors began to throw stones. Barbet was struck 
 first. He ran to Elise without a cry. He raised 
 himself on his hind legs, and laid against her breast 
 his wounded foot. 
 
 The violence of the assailants was increased by 
 the quiet of the victims. The people of the village, 
 full of senseless superstitions, began also to throw 
 stones as if to quiet their fears by the punishment 
 of these two innocent creatures, whom they fool- 
 ishly suspected of possessing evil power. 
 
 Elise wept and made no attempt to defend her- 
 self. She was self-accused. It seemed to her that 
 she was expiating the filial neglect for which her 
 father's spectre had reproached her. She believed 
 now that she understood why all these people were 
 against her; they punished her as an impious 
 daughter, who had no thought for her father's eternal 
 welfare. 
 
 But why were they so furious at her only, when 
 so many besides her had, without disquiet, left the 
 souls of their shipwrecked relatives in pain. She 
 recognized many of them among those most furious 
 toward her. There was the sister of the lame man, 
 the sons of friend Joseph, the mother of Amade. 
 They had taken no steps to find their bodies. This 
 ought to hinder them from attacking her, as if they 
 had clear consciences. Their dead, too, were not to 
 be compared with her father. Poor father! He was 
 so honest. She ought to have tried to recover him, 
 if she had had to dig the Vergoyer all alone. And
 
 "4 A FISHER GIRL OF FRANCE. 
 
 waiting in silence her time of deliverance, she gave 
 herself up to martyrdom. 
 
 But she was not able to keep back a cry of pain 
 when a stone struck her near the eye. Instantly 
 there was an angry snarl, and Barbet flew at the 
 most active sailor, biting him in the leg. The fellow 
 dropped in terror, frightened for his life. The dog 
 was surely possessed ; his bites would kill. 
 
 There was a wild panic over the whole Place. 
 Barbet returned to the attack, showing his teeth. 
 The sailors abandoned their comrade, tumbling over 
 one another into the tavern, crushing against the 
 door-posts in spite of Florimond, who, to show his 
 courage, shouted : 
 
 "You run like crabs before a dog." 
 
 And he kicked at Barbet, who snarled at him 
 most threateningly. 
 
 "Florimond, do not be so rash. It is foolish to 
 brave the spirits of the dead." 
 
 And the man, who from the other side of the 
 Place shouted this out, took to flight with all his 
 companions. Florimond had a little sense. He 
 did not believe in these ideas of the dead returning. 
 
 "Pack of old women, just wait and see how I 
 send Barbet off. If he has the devil in his mouth, 
 I will make him swallow him." 
 
 He strode forward to kick with his heavy boot 
 this demon of a dog. A fresh snarl, longer, sharper, 
 harsher, stopped him a snarl so deep and unearthly 
 that the last of the spectators took flight, and, 
 panic-stricken himself, Florimond bolted into the 
 tavern.
 
 A FISHER GIRL OF FRANCE. JI 5 
 
 Then, with the Place all to themselves, Elise and 
 Barbet looked at each other, half frightened at find- 
 ing themselves alone. 
 
 The man who had been bitten lay still. The skin 
 had not been broken, but he imagined that he felt 
 in his flesh the cold fangs of this dog of hell. He 
 lay at length, like a child who has been stunned by 
 a fall. 
 
 Elise went over to him, and rousing him, by a 
 light tap on the shoulder, raised him up. On his 
 face the traces of his fright were still evident. 
 
 "You, Barnab6? Have you, too, turned against 
 me?" 
 
 "It is the fault of drink, Mam'selle Elise. I had 
 my little glass to celebrate my return. The sailors 
 have fuddled their brains with these old wives' 
 stories. All the same one doesn't know whether 
 they are true or not." 
 
 Elise did not wish to hear, but Barnab began at 
 once to repeat them. As clearly as he could he told 
 how Mother Pilote's gossip had made them believe 
 that the ghost of Father Hnin walked at night. 
 She had accused Elise of witchcraft, and of being 
 supernaturally possessed. 
 
 But all was very confused in his mind. Now- 
 adays such ideas are no longer the fashion, and he 
 was not familiar with them. He hastened to say : 
 "I do not believe them at all, Mam'selle Elise. 
 Forgive me; it was the fault of the drink." 
 
 In token of forgiveness Elise held out her hand 
 to Barnab. but he was still a little disquieted,
 
 !' 6 A FISHER GIRL OF FRANCE. 
 
 Occasionally he would throw a glance toward the 
 tavern, as if at a place of refuge. She took pity on 
 him. 
 
 "You are not afraid of me, I suppose, Barnabe? 
 I never have done you any harm, and never would." 
 
 "I do not distrust you at all, Mam'selle Elise, but 
 Barbet has sharp teeth." 
 
 As if to answer to his name, the dog stepped for- 
 ward. He smelled of Barnabe, scowled, wrinkled 
 his nose disdainfully, and returning to Elise hid his 
 head in a fold of her dress. 
 
 "Barbet, I do not like dogs with bad manners. 
 You will not regain in that way the confidence 
 which we have lost." 
 
 She took with both hands his kind, hairy face, and 
 made him bark his excuses. 
 
 "Pat him, Barnabe; he will not bear you ill-will 
 after this. He has as much sense as men, but he is 
 better than they are." And a treaty of peace was 
 concluded then and there between Barbet and Bar- 
 nabe. 
 
 In the bottom of his heart, Barnab was much 
 ashamed at having shown himself a coward without 
 any cause. While he was on the Bon-P^cheur he 
 had lost his former free ways and his rough elo- 
 quence. Florimond had intimidated him. He did 
 not fancy facing the broad-shouldered captain. 
 Fortunately, on land Florimond was no longer his 
 master, and Barnab only wanted an opportunity to 
 recover his former position. 
 
 "Mam'selle Elise, if you do not bear ill-will, I will 
 be your friend again."
 
 A FISHER GIRL OF FRANCE. 117 
 
 "Why not? Ought I to feel harshly toward you 
 because of other people's faults? You know that I 
 do not bring bad luck." 
 
 "Yes, Mam'selle Elise, I do not believe any of 
 these stories about the devil which they tell of you. 
 They are old wives' fables. If you will let me, I 
 will defend you against the sailors." 
 
 Barbet interposed. He seemed to say that it was 
 he who was her true protector, and that he would 
 not allow others to take his place, but Elise quieted 
 him with a caress, and turned to Barnabe". 
 
 "I shall be glad of your help. I must go to the 
 officials at Saint-Valery, and you can keep me com- 
 pany. A woman does not dare to speak, and you 
 are an orator." 
 
 Then they agreed on the time for starting. The 
 bay would be dry before noon. They would have 
 time to go and return before high tide. They were 
 turning to go home to make ready for the trip, 
 when the door of the tavern opened. 
 
 A sailor held it ajar to watch Elise. He had 
 seen her talking with Barnabe\ and the fact had 
 reassured him. Should a sailor be less courageous 
 than a landlubber? He came out at once, with his 
 comrades at his heels. 
 
 When they were sure that Barbet was harmless, 
 as well as Elise, they joked after the fashion of 
 cowards, who think they can save their dignity by 
 jibes. Their coarse jests fell more thickly than 
 their stones had a little while before. 
 
 "She will be well protected, this Lison, by two 
 strong jaws, Barbet 's and Barnab6's;" and. they
 
 118 A FISHER GIRL OF FRANCE. 
 
 kept playing on these two names, and went away 
 exclaiming: 
 
 "Barbet and Barnabe; one as much a dog as the 
 other. Barbet and Barnab ! two barkers and two 
 landlubbers !"
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 THE village had fallen back into its accustomed 
 quiet, when Elise and Barnab set out barefoot 
 across the sands of the bay. 
 
 Barbet followed them joyfully. He seemed to 
 have been born again to a new youth, and was thor- 
 oughly frivolous. He tossed the crabs in air with 
 his nose, he made the flocks of sea-gulls take wing, 
 he leaped over the streams, and splashed through 
 the pools as if he thoroughly enjoyed this clear and 
 beautiful July day. 
 
 In honor of his new mistress he had forgotten his 
 daily duties and played truant, while the village 
 children, left without their guard, quarrelled and pil- 
 fered along the road to school. 
 
 If he could have seen his company of scholars, 
 some in tears, others rolling in the dust, their hats 
 dusty, their aprons torn, and their baskets upset in 
 the brook, he would have been proud. During the 
 three days since he left the service, the road to 
 school was nothing but a field of battle. Hence- 
 forth they would know in the village what he was 
 worth. 
 
 But this was not the time for serious reflections. 
 Barbet gave himself up to pleasure, for he had 
 caught a smile on his mistress' face, and that showed 
 him that she was happy.
 
 120 A USHER GIRL OF FRANCE. 
 
 As a matter of fact, Elise had a strange pleasure 
 in setting out for the Maritime Bureau. It seemed 
 to her that she was beginning the task of reparation 
 which had been imposed on her, and a feeling of 
 contentment and peace overflowed her. 
 
 She was not at all deceived about Barnab. She 
 knew him to be a braggart, of no principle, but in 
 spite of all she was glad to have him for a guide, 
 and above all for a mouthpiece. At times, carried 
 away by his desire to be useful, he made certain 
 suggestions that made her uneasy. 
 
 "Have no fears, Mam'selle Elise. These scrib- 
 blers, all put together, are not worth one good 
 sailor. They must be spoken to firmly. So much 
 the worse for timid folk, if they revenge themselves 
 on them afterward." 
 
 Elise had no idea that she would succeed through 
 her companion's bravado. All along the way she 
 reasoned with him, and explained the object of the 
 call. She asked that he would repeat to her, as 
 they talked together, the remarks he proposed to 
 make. And while he went complaisantly over his 
 lesson, she corrected him and softened every violent 
 expression. But he came back always to the same 
 idea. 
 
 "We shall lose everything if we let them treat 
 us with insolence, as they do others." 
 
 "Listen, Barnabe ; I think that we shall gain more 
 by talking quietly." 
 
 "No, Mam'selle Elise; allow me to say, it is nec- 
 essary to make a heavy shift of the helm to make 
 the ship come about promptly."
 
 A FISHER GIRL OF FRANCE. 121 
 
 Elise began to regret that she had asked such 
 help. Her cheeks were red and her heart beat 
 quickly, when she entered the Bureau by the side 
 of Barnabe. She threw about her an uneasy look, 
 as if to make certain that Barbet at least had not 
 forsaken her. He was there, sober and faithful. 
 
 The room which they entered was lighted by 
 one low window at the further end. It was divided 
 across its whole width by a railing the height of the 
 elbow, behind which, on a large table, was a huge 
 pile of boxes, books, and documents. 
 
 The air was damp and mouldy. The walls were 
 stained in spots by moisture, and the pigeon-holes 
 were black from dampness. Everything seemed 
 unhealthy. 
 
 Elise had too respectful an idea of the Bureau to 
 note these signs of age. She had not dared to 
 enter, but stood waiting on the sill, holding the door 
 open. She started at the sound of a harsh voice, 
 which appeared to come from under the table. 
 
 "Shut the door there. You let the heat in." 
 
 Then in a surly tone : 
 
 "They're all stupid alike." 
 
 Barnabe" was just about to launch into his first 
 burst of eloquence. He stopped short, and turned 
 suddenly to Elise: 
 
 "Come into the room. You will shipwreck 
 everything." 
 
 Timidly and softly, Elise stepped forward just far 
 enough to allow the door to be shut behind her. 
 Barnabe began in a low tone and a trembling voice. 
 The beautiful, sonorous sentences which he had
 
 122 A FISHER GIRL OF FRANCE. 
 
 planned died away on his lips. The wretched ap. 
 pearance of the room, and its mouldy odor, were so 
 little stimulating to the development of a brilliant 
 and pompous speech that he lost the thread of his 
 oration. For lack of anything better he said simply : 
 
 "We have come about the soul of Father Hnin." 
 
 "That is a matter for the Church. You should 
 not come to the commissaire when you need a 
 priest." 
 
 Then Barnabe" began : 
 
 "We have come hither, together " 
 
 "There are two of you, then? Let the other one 
 step forward." 
 
 Elise advanced to the railing. Behind the boxes 
 she saw, nearly hidden from sight, a little hunch- 
 back, who, with his back toward them, was nibbling 
 a crust of bread, while he read his newspaper. 
 
 Elise had anticipated an impertinent reception, 
 and to her it seemed to increase the clerk's impor- 
 tance. But Barnabe" was not so complaisant. He 
 had promised himself to be magnificent before 
 Elise, and not to allow himself to be treated as a 
 common sailor. But from the feeling of respect 
 which the sailor has for officials he still kept himself 
 in check, and simply raised his voice : 
 
 "It is your affair, this matter of Father He"nin." 
 
 "What affair? Explain yourself, if you want to 
 be understood." 
 
 "The affair of his ghost, which walks because he 
 is at the bottom of the Vergoyer." 
 
 From the desk came a growl: 
 
 "What idiots!"
 
 A FISHER GIRL OF FRANCE. 123 
 
 Then all moderation forsook Barnabe". He could 
 think of nothing but insults, which he was about to 
 rain upon the hunchback. 
 
 "You crooked " 
 
 With a look Elise stopped him. Leaning on the 
 railing, she fixed on him a look both serious and 
 friendly, as if she wished to inspire him with all her 
 confidence. In the half light her pure profile, with 
 its somewhat heavy lines, was softened, and she 
 seemed wrapped in a natural grace and delicacy. 
 Under the influence of her suppliant beauty, Bar- 
 nabe turned over and over his ideas, without finding 
 any which appeared to him likely to meet with the 
 clerk's favor. 
 
 A strange clerk this ! He kept his face always 
 out of sight, supported on his elbow, and turned his 
 curious hump toward all inquirers. It was a piece 
 of affectation on his part. Not being able to dom- 
 ineer by his size over the people who came to his 
 office, he had hit upon this attitude of contemptu- 
 ous indifference. In this way he tried to revenge 
 himself for his disgrace upon those more favored of 
 fortune. 
 
 He had a way of disconcerting sailors, for they, 
 more than all others, are outspoken men, and 
 become embarrassed when they cannot meet one 
 face to face and eye to eye. He made them, as it 
 were, talk to his hump, and he moved it about at 
 them cunningly so as to throw them into confusion, ' 
 when he saw that they were well under way with 
 their statements. 
 
 Elise herself was not able to avoid its strange.
 
 124 A FISHER GIRL OF FRANCE. 
 
 attraction. She stopped looking at Barnab in 
 order to look at this strange clerk, and, moved by 
 fear as much as by compassion, kept her eyes fixed 
 on his pitiful and threatening back. It seemed to 
 her that the fate of her request was written on this 
 deformity if she could only decipher it. She tried 
 to read a favorable response. 
 
 "It is your " said Barnabe" for the third time. 
 
 He did not finish his phrase. He could not restrain 
 his impatience to see at least the nose of this 
 man. 
 
 He added brutally : 
 
 "Have you not another side that speaks also? 
 Are you like one of those round beasts who have no 
 face?" 
 
 The head of the clerk disappeared entirely behind 
 his hump. Barbet, who up to this time had been 
 silent and respectful, stood up, with his fore feet on 
 the railing. He proposed to take part in the de- 
 bate, and since the interests of his mistress were 
 under discussion he wished it to be known that he 
 had the right to interpose. He was no more 
 pleased than Barnab6 to see a hump in place of the 
 face which he expected, and he expressed his disap- 
 probation by surly barks. 
 
 The clerk turned about suddenly. He appeared 
 frightened. His long, bony face was pale, and here 
 and there were what seemed like dark stains. His 
 eye was that of a sick man, and his face expressed 
 sadness more than ill-will. 
 
 At the sight of Elise he appeared abashed, rose 
 to his feet, laid aside the crust of bread, shook off
 
 A FISH EX GIRL OF FRANCE. 125 
 
 the crumbs which lay on his chest, ran his ringers 
 through his hair, and took a hurried look at a bit of 
 mirror propped up between two boxes. He forgot 
 all about complaining of the dog, and said with his 
 best smile : 
 
 "Mademoiselle, I am entirely at your service. I 
 did not suspect that this snip of a sailor had such 
 charming company. These deck-scourers do not 
 know how to explain anything." 
 
 "Deck-scourers! I'll scour your hump!" 
 
 And Barnabe reached out his hand. Elise 
 stopped him. She saw that all hope for her was 
 lost, if she did not take the matter into her own hands. 
 Since she had entered the office she had been mak- 
 ing up her mind not to leave until she had gained 
 what she came for, She shook off her indecision 
 and raised her head, resolute and firm. 
 
 The little clerk was disturbed under his hump. 
 He rubbed together nervously his thin, knotty 
 hands, and with an air of obsequious gallantry, try- 
 ing to make his sharp voice as pleasant as possible, 
 renewed his offer of his services. 
 
 "You injure your cause by not explaining it your- 
 self, mademoiselle. Your sailor 
 
 "Present! the sailor!" cried Barnab, happy to 
 find a chance to put in a word. "I will tell the 
 whole affair. I have no fancy to come here like a 
 ship's boy, and watch others work the ship." 
 
 He looked at the clerk angrily. He seemed to 
 throw defiance at this chicken-breasted wretch, who 
 made himself agreeable to ladies, preening like a 
 turtle dove. But the hunchback turned from him,
 
 I 2 A FISHER GIRL OF FRANCE. 
 
 showing Barnabe the outline of his crooked back, 
 which he worked at him contemptuously. Barbet 
 was out of patience. Standing on his hind legs he 
 bristled up his hair and moved his tail, now slowly, 
 now excitedly, according to the state of his feel- 
 ings. 
 
 Elise saw that all this boded no good to her cause. 
 
 "I pray you," she said to Barnabe, "let me speak. 
 It was I who saw my. father, and I know better 
 what he demanded." 
 
 The clerk threw at her a glance of intelligence. 
 
 "Yes, mademoiselle, speak. The sound of your 
 voice will make amends to me for having heard these 
 barkings." 
 
 "Does Barbet trouble you, sir? I will make him 
 go out if you wish." 
 
 "Yes, and the other dog with him 
 
 He had not finished the sentence when Barnabe, 
 seizing Barbet by the back, tried to lift him over 
 the railing. 
 
 "Eat the hunchback! bite him! bite him!" 
 
 Barbet struggled, refusing to lend himself to such 
 unjust reprisals. Barnab dropped him, and decid- 
 ing to take vengeance in his own person struck out 
 with his fist, and the clerk rolled over and over on 
 the floor, uttering sharp cries. 
 
 Immediately from the next room there appeared 
 a man in tightly buttoned overcoat and silver laced 
 hat. He was dressed exactly as the official whom 
 Elise had seen on the deck of the Bon-Pchcur at 
 Treport. He was the under-commissaire, and ap-
 
 A FISHER GIRL OF FRANCE. 12? 
 
 peared to uphold the dignity of his office. With a 
 glance of his eye he saw what had happened, and 
 stiffly, and as if wishing to avoid any explanation, 
 gave out the order : ' 
 
 "M. Emile, you will be good enough to have a 
 placard fastened to the door Dogs not admitted. 
 Turn these people out." 
 
 Without waiting to hear more, Barnab6 took 
 flight. But Elise could not resign herself to see all 
 her hopes disappear on account of such a ridiculous 
 incident. She lifted her great black eyes to the 
 commissaire, sweetly suppliant : 
 
 "Sir, I have seen my father's ghost. He was 
 drowned at the Vergoyer. He demands that his 
 body be found. You have men to do such 
 work." 
 
 The hunchback was still groaning. In his fall he 
 had overturned his chair, and most unhappily 
 caught his hump between the four legs. He was 
 unable to free himself. The commissaire acted as 
 if he did not see him : 
 
 "Well, M. Emile, why do you not send these peo- 
 ple away?" 
 
 "You are not listening to me," cried Elise. "I 
 have seen my father's ghost. He cannot rest in the 
 sea sands 
 
 "Go out 
 
 And the under-commissaire pointed so severely at 
 the door, that Elise went in tears and despair. She 
 was nearly overturned on the sill by Barbet who, 
 rushing out, nearly tripped her up, so that she lost
 
 128 A Fl.^UER GIRL OF FRANCE. 
 
 the consolation of hearing the chief in a low tone 
 reprimand his clerk. 
 
 "I have been hoping you would have a lesson like 
 this for a long time. I don't* pity you in the least. 
 He who sows the wind must expect to reap the 
 whirlwind."
 
 THE NEXT NIGHT, ELISE SAW HER FATHER AGAIN. 
 
 Chap. 15.
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 THE next night Elise saw her father again, and 
 the next night, and many nights after that. 
 
 "Father," she cried in vain, "tell me where you 
 lie. I can then let the officials know. Help me, if 
 you wish to be found." 
 
 The nights passed, but no answer came. Only 
 by sad looks did her father plead his cause. He 
 never spoke. It was a constant grief to Elise, and, 
 exhausted by waiting and watching, she, too, lost 
 the power of sleep. She hid her head under her 
 pillows to escape the ghost, and made Barbet sleep 
 at her feet, hoping to gain a little rest from the 
 presence of this loving creature. 
 
 Always the same restlessness and the same sleep- 
 lessness, recalling to mind the duty she could not 
 perform, the undeserved punishment she suffered, 
 the insults which the men of the village offered her, 
 and above all, Firmin, who had not come home. 
 
 After many dispatches had passed, they had 
 finally learned about Firmin, and the flambart which 
 had carried him off. 
 
 She had tried at first to reach her port, but had 
 to abandon the attempt. Her hull had been badly 
 damaged, and she had barely been able to make a 
 Scotch port, after throwing overboard everything 
 nets, salt, and supplies. She had towed her boat in 
 order to save it. 
 
 X89
 
 r 3 A FISHER GIRL OF FRANCE. 
 
 The sight of the boat had been too much for Fir- 
 min. With his usual obstinacy, the boy had made 
 up his mind that he would not submit to this 
 forced sojourn among strangers. And one night he 
 had made his escape nearly without provisions. He 
 had slipped into the boat, and cutting the rope, had 
 gone adrift, one hardly knew with what in mind. 
 The crew had discovered his flight at daybreak 
 only. 
 
 Since then there had been no news of him. What 
 daring and what resolution he had, to trust himself 
 to a small boat on an unknown sea. Elise wept at 
 the very idea, but it was more from pride than 
 despair. She was proud to know that the boy was 
 so courageous. She was sure he would return. He 
 was always present in her thoughts ; she would 
 surely see him again when she had atoned for her 
 neglect of her father. 
 
 She worked without stopping. Twenty days in 
 succession she went to the Bureau at Saint-Valery. 
 During the few moments that she had spoken to 
 the under-commissaire she had detected under his 
 gruffness an indulgent and generous nature, and to 
 this she resolved to appeal. But she had not as yet 
 made any headway. 
 
 At first she had had to face the mortification of 
 the hunchback. When by patience she had won 
 him over, so as to be permitted to enter the chief's 
 office, she met fresh difficulties. 
 
 She recounted to him the nightly apparition of 
 her father and the orders which he had given her. 
 He heard her with the distrust which one shows to
 
 A FISHER GIRL OF FRANCE. 13 l 
 
 lunatics. He did not speak harshly, on the con- 
 trary, he bowed her out pleasantly so as not to 
 excite the mental troubles with which he supposed 
 her afflicted. The next day she was back again 
 with the same fixed purpose, and as he sent her 
 away he pitied her from the bottom of his 
 heart. 
 
 Each day it was the same. The commissaire had 
 finally refused to allow her entrance. He found 
 Elise on the threshold. He shrugged his shoulders 
 pityingly. She attached herself to him, followed 
 him through the town, and held him a long time at 
 the door of his house. He put her off, as he best 
 could, with evasive answers. At last he grew impa- 
 tient, was rude, and even pushed her aside. 
 
 Nothing discouraged her. Her indomitable reso- 
 lution had won over the little clerk, who perhaps 
 was not angry to see his chief in the hands of a 
 petitioner with so much persistence. 
 
 "Return to-morrow," he said to her every night, 
 after a fresh failure. "Keep on returning. He will 
 yield in the end." 
 
 She did return. She began to be well known on 
 the Place of Saint- Valery. The idlers watched for 
 her coming and going. In the sailors' quarter there 
 was great interest. Bets were made as to which of 
 the two, the girl or the commissaire, would carry 
 the day. 
 
 He could not contain himself longer. He threat- 
 ened to bring the gendarmes and to protect himself, 
 if necessary, by the law. Elise was only more 
 active.
 
 1 3 2 A FISHER GIRL OF FRANCE. 
 
 "Return to-morrow," the little hunchback kept 
 saying to her. 
 
 She did return. She found this daily walk across 
 the bay, to which she had become accustomed, a sort 
 of healthful activity. She was not tired herself, but 
 she tired out the commissaire, who, to get rid of 
 her, finally consented to take the necessary first 
 steps. 
 
 He demanded that she should draw up a petition 
 to the minister. 
 
 Elise could write, but she felt that she knew too 
 little for so important a matter. She went to the 
 schoolmaster, but he refused to write of ghosts. 
 Then she consulted the corporal of the coast guards, 
 and got from him a letter to her own mind, which 
 with great delight she carried to the commissaire. 
 He refused to send it. The minister would burst 
 out laughing at these stories of phantoms. 
 
 She would not give up. She sought the aid of 
 the notary, who drew up for her a four page peti- 
 tion in beautiful style. She was not able to under- 
 stand the big words and pompous phrases. They 
 were too grand for simple ears. But four pages 
 that was certainly better than one, and this time the 
 commissaire would have nothing to say. 
 
 Cheered by this thought, Elise quickened her 
 steps over the sands of the bay. She had the new 
 petition in her pocket, carefully wrapped in a clean 
 handkerchief, to keep the paper from being rubbed 
 or spotted. At intervals she touched it with the 
 tips of her fingers, to be sure that the four pages 
 had not flown away in the wind.
 
 A F1SHEX GIRL OF FRANCE. 133 
 
 Four pages! That alone gave her confidence. 
 Certain of success she entered the Bureau almost 
 haughtily, and marched gayly to her friend, the 
 little hunchback: 
 
 "I am sure that your chief will be satisfied now." 
 
 She untied the handkerchief and carefully drew 
 out the petition, asking him to read it. While he 
 ran through the lines she watched him anxiously, to 
 judge of the impression it made. He nodded his 
 head, and his eyes, slanting over the paper, light- 
 ened with gleams which gave them a malicious 
 vivacity. Elise thought that she detected a kind of 
 satisfied approbation. 
 
 "It is splendid, is it not?" 
 
 "Splendid, no ! It is a pity that you have been 
 so poorly advised." 
 
 Elise was discouraged, but went to the commis- 
 saire. He took the paper, opened, and returned it. 
 
 ''Four pages, my daughter, at least three too 
 many. A half page was enough, provided it was 
 well done." 
 
 He held out the paper. Elise had not the 
 strength to take it. He saw her become suddenly 
 pale, and reproached himself for having been so 
 brusque. He spoke more pleasantly : 
 
 "Petitions, you know, are just like prayers. The 
 shorter they are the better." 
 
 Then he waved his hand toward the door, politely 
 but significantly. Elise did not move from her 
 chair. He looked at her. She was fainting. He 
 waited impatiently a moment, then rang with all his 
 might for his clerk.
 
 134 A FISHER GIRL OF FRANCE. 
 
 "M. Emile, take the young girl away." 
 
 The clerk had run in half frightened. His eyes 
 moved from Elise to the commissaire, as if to ask if 
 one had really called him for such a purpose. 
 
 "Make haste, M. Emile, take her away. Draw 
 up her petition and let us have an end of her." 
 
 Then, as well as his feeble strength would permit, 
 the little clerk raised Elise and led her into his 
 room. He moistened her forehead with fresh water 
 and brought her to herself by his delicate attentions 
 and his kind words. He was gentle and tender. 
 One would have said that he was delighted to assist 
 a creature weaker than himself, to find at last a 
 chance to do something worthy of a man. 
 
 When Elise was herself again, he made her sit by 
 his table, wrote out a beautiful petition on a large 
 sheet of paper, and guided her hand while she 
 signed her name in the right place. 
 
 He was not so ugly after all, this little clerk with 
 his playful hump. Elise was touched when, after 
 wiping his damp fingers, he took the paper by the 
 corners, folded it delicately, and with much care 
 addressed it. 
 
 When she saw the name of the minister beauti- 
 fully written on the back of the envelope Elise was 
 taken with a childish joy, as if at last she held 
 a talisman which would deliver her from her 
 troubles. 
 
 "How beautiful it is, M. Emile. I am sure no one 
 can write as you can." 
 
 Under the charm of this flattery the little clerk 
 became genial. Whistling and thoroughly pleased
 
 A FISHER GIRL OF FRANCE. Z 35 
 
 with himself he held out his knotty hand to Elise, 
 who took it affectionately : 
 
 "Come again to-morrow, mademoiselle." 
 
 Elise had returned, imagining that she would 
 already find the reply to her petition. She had no 
 idea of the delays and formalities necessary in gov- 
 ernment affairs. 
 
 She grew pale again, and was quite upset when 
 the commissaire explained to her the course which 
 her petition must follow. First it must go to the 
 Commissaire of Marines at Dunkirk, then to the 
 Minister at Paris, then to the Maritime Prefect at 
 Cherbourg, delayed, perhaps often, between the 
 three places. 
 
 She went away, more troubled and more discour- 
 aged than before her petition was written. 
 
 If only Silvere were here. She would take him, 
 and go even to Paris, and would not fear to speak 
 herself to the minister. But Silvere had not 
 returned. 
 
 He had gone for a cruise of four weeks, and now 
 six weeks had passed. As a matter of fact, a boat 
 never comes as soon as those who watch for her 
 hope, for there are endless ways to lose time at sea. 
 Captains have often come in months after all hope 
 of them had been given up. 
 
 The longer Silvere's return was delayed, the more 
 ill-natured were the people of the village to Elise. 
 They never came near her; she even had trouble in 
 persuading the baker to sell her bread. The chil- 
 dren made sport of her. They pushed one another 
 against her, then made faces and ran away as if
 
 I3 6 A FISHER GIRL OF FRANCE. 
 
 from an evil thing. In old times they had hung 
 about her in a very different fashion. They were 
 all friends of Firmin. She had let them play in her 
 father's boat, had given them fish on the return 
 from each trip; they all loved her then. In memory 
 of those days she forgave them ; but Barbet did not. 
 
 He had given up entirely his old habits and 
 refused to take the children to school. He had 
 now a more lofty idea of duty and kept all his time 
 and all his devotion for his adopted mistress. 
 
 This caused new complaints against Elise. Was 
 it to be borne that a young girl should keep to her- 
 self a dog that belonged to the whole village? 
 Ought Barbet, who for thirty-five years had not 
 failed for a single day at his task, to now go back 
 on all his old friends, in order to trot behind the 
 petticoats of a beggar? He was growing thin, and 
 it served him right. 
 
 For, although she denied herself, Elise was not 
 able to feed Barbet as he had been used. Like his 
 mistress, he lived on bread and water only. He did 
 not complain ; he preferred an approving heart to a 
 full stomach. 
 
 But sometimes hunger made him a little cross, 
 and the night before he had not been able to restrain 
 his injured feelings. When the mocking children 
 pushed themselves against Elise, he had seized one 
 by the throat and half strangled him. Until this 
 time he had driven off the most mischievous by 
 snapping at them as a collie snaps at his sheep, but 
 now, to put an end once for all to these rude jests, 
 he had bitten in earnest.
 
 A FISHER GIRL OF FRANCE. 137 
 
 By a strange coincidence the boy whom he had 
 seized was named Silvere, and all the village was in 
 an uproar. Did any one need further proof that 
 Silvere had perished, a victim of Elise's malign 
 influence? Barbet told the truth after his fashion. 
 The big Silvere ! Such a good fellow he was, so 
 kind to his mother. Poor Mother Pilote ! Her 
 head was always full of fancies, and this last excite- 
 ment had almost upset her mind. Whenever she 
 went out she carried a bottle of holy water, with 
 which she sprinkled the roads to drive away spirits 
 from her path. 
 
 All these troubles were charged to Elise, but 
 though the whole village condemned her with one 
 voice, she did not lose her faith in the future.
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 SHE had none the less an hour of weakness the 
 night that the Bon-Pcheur went to sea again, after 
 more than a month in the ship-yard. Newly rigged 
 and freshly painted for her cruise, she had returned 
 three days before from Treport and lay alongside 
 the quay ready to make sail for the autumn fishing. 
 It was the longest cruise of the year and they hoped 
 on it to make up for the losses of the summer. 
 
 It was the second week of August. The sea 
 stretched away like a cloth of gold with silvery 
 lights under a rosy sky crossed with ribbons of blue. 
 Nothing was so beautiful as this great, grand calm, 
 flooded with a wealth of sunlight, and the Bon- 
 Pecheur seemed as if about to start toward regions 
 of peace and rest. But the sky troubled Florimond. 
 There were indications of rough weather toward 
 the north. What should he do ? After losing so 
 many weeks should he waste more days? This was 
 the time of the year for bad weather. He who 
 follows the sea has a rough trade. 
 
 So the Bon-Pcheur set out, gliding over the 
 tranquil sea so quietly that she seemed not to have 
 waited for night to go to sleep. Florimond was at 
 the helm, always imposing with his great figure, 
 always impressive as he gave out his orders in his 
 deep voice, 
 
 138
 
 A FISHER GIRL OF FRANCE. 139 
 
 From the height of the dune, Elise, broken- 
 hearted, watched the boat. She remembered when 
 the Bon-Pecheur had sailed before, and how full of 
 hope she had been, and how in those days Cousin 
 Florimond had been good to her. If everything 
 had changed it was because of bad luck. That alone 
 haa made him unjust. 
 
 Then the night enveloped with its healthful peace 
 men and things alike. The Bon-Pcheur was still in 
 the channel. There was so little breeze that she 
 moved slowly as if to show those on shore her grief 
 at leaving them behind. 
 
 They are off, without Firmin or without me, 
 thought Elise, and they do not regret us. 
 
 She was mistaken. As he stood at the helm, 
 steering, Florimond was thinking of her. He said 
 to himself that he should not now have an excuse 
 for any further lack of success, that the sky was not 
 over-promising, and that after all he owed his bad 
 luck to the weather and not to Elise. At the bot- 
 tom of his heart he was really ashamed to have been 
 so hard and not to have at least given this innocent 
 girl the pleasure of a farewell. And as it was now 
 too late to do anything, he grew remorseful and, 
 after the fashion of sailors, who expect always to be 
 punished for their faults, was attacked by vague 
 terrors. 
 
 Then night came. It wrapped him about a 
 night without a moon, of a deep blue, broken only 
 by the glare of the lighthouses which protected the 
 bay. A lantern was lighted in the bow of the Bon- 
 Pecheur. One could see it occasionally as the boat
 
 14 A FISHER GIRL OF FRANCE. 
 
 tacked, then, it too disappeared. When she could 
 see it no longer Elise burst into tears. Her loneli- 
 ness seemed more lonely than ever, her lot more sad. 
 Henceforth she would have hard work to live, for 
 the Bon-Pecheur had carried off her last depend- 
 ence her part of the nets. 
 
 It had not been difficult for Florimond to obtain 
 from the owner of the flambart a sum large enough 
 to allow him to buy back for the men and himself a 
 complete outfit of nets. He had appropriated the 
 part he should have accounted for to Elise. He 
 claimed that they were due him as indemnity for 
 the losses for which he held the poor child re- 
 sponsible. 
 
 Elise had nothing else in the world except her 
 house. But if she had had the chance to sell that, 
 she would have refused. The house had been built 
 by her grandfather, and lived in by her father. She 
 destined it for Firmin, the last of the name, for 
 Firmin, for whose return she was waiting and 
 watching. 
 
 In an open boat, alone, exposed to storms, how 
 could this weak boy have resisted seas which engulf 
 the strongest ? Without doubt he had gone down, 
 with a last cry to his sister, into some frightful 
 abyss where he would be tossed about for all 
 eternity. If the boy was with his father why should 
 Elise still remain in this world of trouble, unhappy, 
 always alone, with death in her heart ? 
 
 Was it so difficult to die? It would take only a 
 few seconds to descend the dune. One had only to 
 run to the sea, to close the eyes and walk into the
 
 SHE WOULD SEE AGAIN THOSE SHE LOVED. 
 
 Chap. 16
 
 A FISHER GIRL OF FRANCE. 14* 
 
 waves, persisting until there came the final oblivion. 
 Every one in the village would rejoice ; perhaps 
 then Florimond would forgive her. 
 
 Half conscious only of what she was doing, and 
 almost delirious, Elise hurried where the voice of 
 the waves called her, a voice that dulled her reason. 
 Lost in her frenzy, she struggled across the sand, 
 into which her feet sank as if it strove to hold her 
 back in spite of herself. With tottering steps she 
 reached the water's edge. 
 
 Since the land would have none of her she would 
 trust herself to the sea. She forgot the insults of 
 the villagers ; she would have liked to have said 
 farewell to the little hunchback, to Barnab even, 
 to Mother Pilote, the poor woman who through 
 ignorance had made her so much trouble. She 
 would have liked above all to have left a last mes- 
 sage for Florimond, that he should not revile her 
 when she was gone. Had she not a right, since she 
 was dying innocent of any crime, to have her mem- 
 ory at least left in peace? 
 
 She felt the water already about her knees. She 
 would see again those she loved her father, Firmin, 
 Silvere, the men in the boat, Chretien, the two big 
 fellows, and the old sailor. 
 
 They were all there together in that bed of the 
 tempest. She saw them, she spoke to them, gasp- 
 ing and shivering. Her father, Firmin, Silvere, 
 Chretien ; they were all there. She stretched 
 out her arms to them as she ran into the 
 waves. 
 
 " Father, come and take me I cannot move.
 
 142 A FISHER GIRL OF FRANCE. 
 
 Father ! Some one stops me I cannot move ! I 
 cannot move ! " 
 
 In vain did Elise try to escape from the force 
 which held her. She tried to throw herself forward 
 with all her might. She was pulled backward firmly. 
 
 " Something has seized my dress ! It is dragging 
 me away from you. Father, Firmin ! " 
 
 She was drawn steadily back. She caught her 
 feet in the folds of her skirts. She fell. She was 
 on the beach. 
 
 Do not weep, Elise, do not weep ! You shall see 
 them all again, Silvere, your father, Chretien, and 
 your Firmin whom you so love. You shall see them 
 all, it is Barbet who tells you so. 
 
 You forgot him, Elise, your faithful Barbet, but 
 he would not let you die. It was he who followed 
 you, sad and silent. When he realized what you 
 were about to do he dragged you back with all his 
 strength. He is your true friend, your guardian. 
 You were ungrateful to forget him. 
 
 Do not weep any more, Elise. Barbet leaps joy- 
 fully around you. Do you not recognize his signs 
 of joy ? He has consoled you in this way, when 
 you were as heartbroken as now. Look how he 
 points to the horizon. He turns as if to beg you to 
 listen. He leaps again. Look ! He is trying to 
 make you see a lantern just entering the channel. 
 Hurry and climb the dune so as to see better what 
 boat this light, so like a far off star, announces. 
 Barbet tells you. Forget your sorrows and listen. 
 Two barks. It is the Jeune-Adolphine, big Poide- 
 vin's sloop.
 
 A FISHER GIRL OF FRANCE. 143 
 
 ' Is it really, Barbet ? Is it really, really, big 
 Poidevin's sloop?" 
 
 Yes, it is true, really true. Just watch Barbet. 
 He begins his foolish frisking, barking wildly, but 
 always two barks at a time. Have no fear, it is big 
 Poidevin's sloop. It brings you Silvere, first of 
 those whom you wished. He is the first and will 
 show the way to the others. 
 
 " Oh, thank you, Barbet ! I shall see them all 
 again, and I shall recover my father." 
 
 Elise waited a long time. The lantern hardly 
 grew larger. The course of the boat which it an- 
 nounced was so slow, that it would not reach the 
 port for an hour. An hour is often longer than a 
 year to those who are in suspense. 
 
 " Come, Barbet, quick ! We shall meet him at 
 the landing. Mother Pilote will recover her senses. 
 We must go and tell her the news. Quick, Barbet ! " 
 
 Elise passed quickly through the village and 
 reached the house hidden among the big trees on 
 the edge of the stream. She knocked joyfully with 
 all her might. 
 
 " Mother Pilote, I have come for you to go and 
 meet Silvere." 
 
 "Who is there?" 
 
 "I, your Elise, Mother Pilote. Silvere will be 
 here in an hour." 
 
 " Go away ! My poor Silvere is no more among 
 the living. Your troubles have made you walk 
 o' nights." 
 
 " Open, Mother Pilote ! I have seen the lantern
 
 144 A FISHER GIRL OF FRANCE. 
 
 of the Jeune-Adolphine ! It will reach the quay in 
 an hour." 
 
 " Go away ! Do not bring trouble to my 
 house ! " 
 
 " No, I do not bring bad luck, for Silvere is not 
 lost. I have never injured any one. " 
 
 " Go away ! It is foolishness. You cannot recog- 
 nize a lantern ! All boats are alike ! " 
 
 " It was not I who recognized it, it was Barbet. 
 You know perfectly well that he sees better than 
 any one." 
 
 " Barbet is accursed like you. Go away, both of 
 you." 
 
 "Open, Mother Pilote ! There is too much 
 trouble in the village already without my adding 
 more. Open ! Ask Barbet ! " 
 
 ".It is all the same. I have no fancy for night 
 visits." 
 
 " Open ! Since Silvere is returning, why fear me 
 any longer. Come, Barbet, tell Mother Pilote." 
 
 As if he had understood her words the dog gave 
 the two barks, known all through the town as the 
 sign of Poidevin's sloop. 
 
 " Do you hear, Mother Pilote ? He is never de- 
 ceived." 
 
 The old woman had gained a little confidence. 
 She did not open her door, but through the window 
 the sound of her voice came more clearly. 
 
 " Are you sure that it is not all fancy? " 
 
 Barbet barked again. 
 
 " If it is true, wait a little, my daughter." 
 
 Elise heard her move from the inside of the door
 
 A FISHER GIRL OF FRANCE. 145 
 
 a perfect array of defense, boards, chains, and 
 bolts. 
 
 Barbet had stopped barking. He jumped against 
 the door, which resounded under the shock, arid 
 which at last opened a little way. He slipped 
 through the space in order to announce the good 
 news to the old woman by leaps and pirouettes after* 
 his fashion. 
 
 " Oh ! my daughter, call off your dog. He will 
 upset my pot of holy water." 
 
 Elise tried to enter, but the half-closed door pre- 
 vented her. 
 
 " Wait a little. Call off your dog." 
 
 " Come back, old Barbet, there is no reason for 
 wearying every one because we are happy. Come 
 back." 
 
 She was interrupted by a dash of water in her 
 face which half suffocated her. Barbet, who received 
 it in his open mouth, retreated sneezing. 
 
 The door opened its full width. The dog careered 
 about the old woman so wildly, and leaped so joy- 
 fully upon her, that she let fall her pot of holy water, 
 an old tin vessel, which was battered shapeless on 
 the stone. 
 
 "Alas! my daughter! Fortunately, I have no 
 more need of it. Since the holy water did not burn 
 you, you are not accursed. It was all lies. They 
 were a lot of wicked people to take pleasure in troub- 
 ling you. Silvere will make them sing another song." 
 
 The old woman hastily threw off her old dark skirt, 
 ran to her chest, drew out her gayest clothes, her 
 holiday dress, a red skirt, green waist, and flowered
 
 146 A FISHER GIRL OF FRANCE. 
 
 hood. While she was dressing she kept on ejacula- 
 ting : 
 
 " They will make a long face, these people in the 
 village! They will have to beg your pardon. 
 Their heads were turned with their fancies about 
 the devil. You will not tell anything to Silvere. 
 He will be angry with me." 
 
 "Oh no, Mother Pilote, Silvere is too good a son 
 to reproach you. He shall never do it on my 
 account." 
 
 The old woman was quickly dressed. In her 
 haste she had tied her hood crooked, had twisted 
 her mantle in putting it on, had caught the skirts of 
 her basque under her belt. Carefully and with gen- 
 tle attention and tender respect Elise set the bonnet 
 straight, laid the mantle smooth, and arranged the 
 basque. 
 
 " Mother Pilote, you must look as well as possible, 
 so that your son shall be proud at sight of you. He 
 will be delighted at your appearance." 
 
 They went out together, calling out the news at 
 each house, to tell the wives of all the sailors who 
 were on the Jeune-Adolphine. 
 
 Their band increased everywhere ; mothers, 
 sweethearts, daughters, they were a goodly com- 
 pany as they reached the wharf. Barbet went be- 
 fore, leaping and barking, like a fiddler at the head 
 of a wedding procession. 
 
 Elise had not been so happy for a long time. 
 They no longer feared her in the village. Mother 
 Pilote had treated her as if she were her daughter, 
 and the women spoke to her pleasantly.
 
 A FISHER GIRL OF FRANCE. 147 
 
 When they reached the pier the lantern shone 
 close at hand in the end of the channel, nearly at 
 the harbor mouth. There was no doubt about it. 
 It was Poidevin's lantern. It was hoisted at the 
 top of the mast, and by its light they could distin- 
 guish, through the darkness, the sailors they knew to 
 belong' to the Jeune-Adolpliine. Two long barks an- 
 nounced them. 
 
 " Ho ! Poidevin ! " shouted all the women to- 
 gether in an irresistible burst of emotion. 
 
 " Home again ! " repeated twenty voices through 
 the night, twenty voices with strong, well-known 
 accents 
 
 When the sloop came alongside the wharf, and 
 its red lantern flooded the deck, showing big 
 Poidevin himself at the helm, and the black forms 
 of the sailors at work, there broke out from the 
 women cries of happiness and sobs of joy, and 
 Mother Pilote drawing Elise to her lips, held her 
 fast in a long embrace. She had seen Silvere.
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 SlLVERE returned rich, for some time at least, for 
 the Jeune-AdolpJune had made a great success of 
 her cruise. She was so heavily loaded with fish 
 that she had been hardly able to reach the market 
 at Dieppe, which was better than that of Boulogne. 
 They had thus gained by their delay, and when the 
 fish were sold were well paid for their trouble. 
 
 Before going north again for the second cruise 
 they had come to pass a week with their mothers, 
 wives, and daughters, those who tell off day after 
 day, like a chaplet of sorrow, the long months of 
 absence. 
 
 The day after his return Silvere did not leave 
 Elise. All day long, happy in being together, they 
 walked the dunes, confiding to each other the over- 
 flowings of their hearts. She told him with caution 
 of the persecution of which she had been the object, 
 but said nothing about the part which Mother Pilote 
 had played. He had learned the truth, however, 
 from another source, and Elise seemed to him only 
 more attractive and more worthy of being loved. 
 
 " Elise, I will not go on the second cruise. I am 
 not willing to leave you alone in the village. You 
 have such speaking ways. There is no one who has 
 their heart in their eyes as you have. When you 
 sailed away before, I felt that I should never see
 
 1 
 
 A FISHER GIRL OF FRANCE. 1 49 
 
 you again. I was always on the lookout for you in 
 the North Sea, and I hardly slept for watching the 
 horizon." 
 
 "You are good to have loved me. I, too, often 
 called on you when you were far away." 
 
 " Let us marry, Elise. I will not leave the vil- 
 lage. Mother Pilote will be delighted." 
 
 " Listen, Silvere. Until I have found my father's 
 body I might bring trouble between us. Later on 
 I will be happy to be your wife, so as to care for 
 you and pay back all the kindness which you have 
 shown me. You are the only one who has not for- 
 saken me." 
 
 " But if your father should ndt be found ? Ought 
 we not to marry just the same ? Would he wish 
 such an injury to his child?" 
 
 "Let us look for him. I cannot bear the idea of 
 his being tossed about pitilessly. If you had seen 
 him, as I have, you would help me snatch him from 
 the dreadful sea." 
 
 " It is not the will, it is the means which we lack. 
 What is it? Are you ill? Why do you tremble 
 so?" 
 
 " Do you see that man watching us ? He is hid- 
 den in the crow's hole." 
 
 The crow's hole had been dug in the sand by 
 hunters, who lay there in wait for wild birds as they 
 passed overhead. In the first days of autumn it 
 served as an ambush against the gray crows from 
 the north, who passed over the village on their way 
 to the neighboring fields. It was from them that 
 it had taken its name.
 
 15 A FISHER GIRL OF FRANCE. 
 
 As Elise and Silvere came near, some one crawled 
 out, bent double and creeping on all fours, as if to 
 escape observation. 
 
 " What is Barnabe after there ? He is not likely 
 to find any great chance to do mischief in this sandy 
 waste. Ho ! Barnab ? '' 
 
 But Barnab was deaf to the call, and hurrying 
 only the more, soon was out of sight. 
 
 " I would rather see his back than his face, Elise. 
 He, at least, has made you no trouble during my 
 absence." 
 
 " On the contrary. He has been better than the 
 others. But your coming has upset him. All day 
 long he has been looting threateningly at me." 
 
 And Elise leaned more closely and more timor- 
 ously against her lover. He held her hand, and, 
 under the firm pressure, she felt a caressing warmth 
 which made her heart glow. 
 
 " Silvere, I have never known anything so sweet as 
 being loved." 
 
 She threw a restful glance at her lover, whose 
 huge figure seemed a tower of strength to her. 
 
 " I am so strong now. One is weak when one 
 fights alone." 
 
 " Lise, my beloved, my two arms, all my strength, 
 belong to you always. For your happiness 
 
 He stopped short. Elise had begun trembling 
 again : 
 
 " Silvere, look there behind us. He is follow- 
 ing me. His eyes are wicked." 
 
 "Who? Barnab ? Wait a moment. I will 
 give him a bit of advice to let you alone."
 
 A FISHER GIRL OF FRANCE. 151 
 
 " Oh no ? Do not leave me ! I am not happy 
 unless you are with me." 
 
 " Listen, Elise. It is intolerable that you should 
 be threatened by this rascal. I will clear the road 
 of him." 
 
 Silvere ran toward Barnabe, who took to his heels 
 instantly, muttering threats. 
 
 This was not the first day that Barnab6 had' fol- 
 lowed Elise, but she had not wished to say so for 
 fear of making trouble between him and Silvere. 
 But she was not able to resist the urgency of her 
 lover, and let him see a little of how matters stood. 
 
 After the first visit to the Bureau at Saint-Valery, 
 Barnabe had returned to the village in a most self- 
 satisfied state. He had filled the tavern with his 
 boasts, telling with many words how he had chas- 
 tised the insolence of the little hunchback, and 
 swearing that he would return the next day to take 
 the commissaire by the nose. He wanted to ac- 
 company Elise on her second visit, but she refused, 
 thinking that such an unbridled advocate would ruin 
 the best cause. He was angry, and followed her, 
 declaring that he would be her champion whether 
 or no, and that he would make her see reason in 
 spite of herself and every one else. She lad had to 
 take a decided stand with him. He followed her to 
 Saint-Valery, and fear alone had kept him outside 
 the Bureau. He returned often with the same in- 
 tention ; finally he gave it up, and, in revenge for 
 her slight, had gone over to the girl's enemies. 
 
 This that Silvere drew from her was not all, for 
 Elise had not thought it wise to tell everything to
 
 IS 2 A FISHER GIRL OF FRANCE. 
 
 her lover. Barnabe was truly a bad fellow. On 
 their first visit to Saint-Valery he had made dis- 
 graceful proposals. If she should recover her 
 father's body and his money, Elise would be rich, 
 and he had offered to marry her. He believed her, 
 then, capable of breaking her troth. At that time it 
 is true they thought Silvere lost, but for her he would 
 have lived always. She would no more be false to 
 him dead than she would have betrayed him living. 
 Softened by her thoughts she smiled at her big 
 friend, in all the confidence of her heart. " Silvere, 
 I am so happy. We will work together to recover 
 my father's body. Take me in your boat to the 
 Vergoyer. Perhaps we can find the place where he 
 lies. That would help us very much in our demands 
 at Saint-Valery." 
 
 The following morning, well before dawn, all three 
 set out together, the two lovers and Barbet. The 
 breeze which came with the day sent them briskly 
 along. The sea was smooth, and in a half hour they 
 were out of the channel. Then, spread out before 
 them, they saw gleaming under the rising sun the 
 sea that hid, as if under a smile, the treacherous 
 abyss. 
 
 Seized by a strange emotion Elise drew near Sil- 
 vere she found herself irresistibly drawn as by some 
 charm to this new life so sweet and protecting. 
 This big Silvere, who was so gentle, she loved for 
 the faith he had in her. 
 
 " Silvere, I believe that we shall find my father, 
 and that he will bid us marry."
 
 A FISHER GIRL OF FRANCE. 153 
 
 They were drawing near the Vergoyer. The re- 
 flection of the sun made delusive gleams, and a dull 
 rumbling seemed to come from the depth of the sea, 
 frightful like all noises whose cause is not known. 
 The boat, now fairly in the rough water, resounded 
 under the blows of the waves. 
 
 It was time to take soundings. Elise took the 
 lead, then leaning well forward in the bow she 
 whirled it around her head and with a sudden fling 
 threw it far before her into the sea. When the boat 
 on its course passed over the place where it lay on 
 the bottom, Elise drew the cord taut, and, haul- 
 ing it in, counted the number of fathoms which it 
 marked. 
 
 " Ten fathoms, Silvere. We are on the shallows. 
 Father was wrecked in the gulf." 
 
 From fathom to fathom they sounded to find the 
 greatest depth. Silvere scanned the surface. At 
 the places where the waves seemed quietest he 
 fancied they would find the greatest depth. He 
 steered there, but he was mistaken seven fathoms 
 only. 
 
 The boat tacked again. Misery! Only five 
 fathoms. He changed her course. Twelve 
 fathoms at last eighteen twenty-two keep 
 right ahead, we are approaching it. Misery ! It 
 shoals again nine fathoms only. For a long time 
 they tried to find the gulf, which they knew to be 
 at least sixty fathoms deep. 
 
 "Elise, time passes. We must not delay if we 
 are going to return with the morning tide. The 
 breeze will not be with us as we go back. We will
 
 154 A FISHER GIRL OF FRANCE. 
 
 come again to-morrow, and will consult the villagers 
 who are best posted." 
 
 "Let us try again, Silvere. Perhaps our ill 
 fortune will leave us. One cannot search always 
 without finding." 
 
 Elise tried the lead ten times more, but without 
 success. 
 
 " Enough, Elise, let us come about. The tide is 
 falling. We shall not have water enough to get 
 back." 
 
 " Why not wait until night ! I have no doubt 
 that if we call upon my father he will make his 
 presence known. With you I am not afraid." 
 
 "No, this is no place to sail at night. One blast 
 from the northwest, and the canoe would be turned 
 keel in air. We " 
 
 His words were cut short by a bark. Barbet was 
 standing up, his feet on the gunwale, his ears erect 
 his nostrils distended. 
 
 Elise ran to the stern. Panting and troubled she 
 fled to Silvere for protection. Both were silent, 
 every nerve alert, while the boat held its way with 
 no thought now of turning about. Leaning on 
 each other, motionless, they seemed united by the 
 same feeling of tenderness and affection. 
 
 At that moment a sharp, angry growl interrupted 
 them. 
 
 " It is no doubt here that the lame man lies. 
 You know, Silvere, the little red-haired man who 
 made so much trouble in the village? You remem- 
 ber how Barbet always growled at him ? It was 
 just as he did now,"
 
 A FISHER GIRL OF FRANCE. 155 
 
 The boat sailed steadily on. Barbet barked five 
 times. Elise hid her head on Silvere's breast and 
 murmured in a low tone: 
 
 " It is the launch of friend Joseph. They are all 
 there then." 
 
 "Yes, they are in the gulf. They drifted there 
 after being shipwrecked on the shoals." 
 
 " Oh ! Silvere, do you hear Barbet ? We are 
 over the lost sailors' gulf." 
 
 " Eight barks. It is Amadee's sloop." They 
 are all there. How many besides, from Berck and 
 Cayeux, that Barbet did not know at all ? 
 
 "Do you hear? Three times can it be so 
 three times only three times it is father." And 
 while Silvere struck the sail to stop the boat, Elise 
 cried out: 
 
 " Father, are you there ? You will forgive me 
 now that I have found you. Father, are you 
 there?" 
 
 The anchor ran out, and the boat came into the 
 wind. Barbet began his barks again always three 
 together. It was the boat of her father and his six 
 companions. 
 
 Elise took the lead and let it slip overboard. 
 When she felt it had reached the bottom she had 
 a shiver. She raised the cord slowly and drew the 
 lead aboard carefully. Its bottom, smeared with 
 grease, had brought up a light covering of fine sand. 
 She looked at it abstractedly for a long time. 
 
 Silvere did not dare to break in on her pious 
 thoughts. The full noonday sun shone in splendor, 
 and in the clear light which seemed to envelop her
 
 IS 6 A FISHER GIRL OF FRANCE. 
 
 the young girl seemed to brighten and to be alive 
 with a new force. 
 
 " Elise, we will make a buoy fast to the anchor. 
 If we do not go at once we shall find the bay en- 
 tirely dry." 
 
 Recalled to herself, Elise made haste to measure 
 the depth. 
 
 Sixty fathoms, over a bottom of fine sand. It 
 was surely the abyss which the old men called the 
 lost sailors' gulf. " Father, if you are really there, 
 do you pardon me ? " 
 
 At that very instant Barbet gave three quick joy- 
 ful barks, then kept on barking without taking breath. 
 He had answered Elise. He announced her father's 
 forgiveness, the end of all her troubles, and a life of 
 health and happiness. 
 
 Then forgetting her unhappy past in her new 
 hopes, Elise sat beside her lover and offered him 
 her hand. 
 
 " Silvere, my father gives me to you. You alone 
 have not failed me. I am no longer afraid of being 
 loved.''
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 AFTER a last thought consecrated to the past 
 they quitted the lost sailors' gulf. At the place 
 pointed out by Barbet, Silvere left the anchor, made 
 fast to a float, as a guide for the future. At last 
 the boat headed for home. But the wind was 
 against them, and they made so little progress that 
 they soon had to give up the idea of entering on the 
 day tide. 
 
 Elise saw this before Silvere told her. What dif- 
 ference did it make? She had regained her hope in 
 the future, and, in the reaction from her past suffer- 
 ings, was thoroughly happy. Leaning toward 
 Silvere she looked at him so gratefully that the 
 young man could not contain his emotion : 
 
 " Elise, you know that I would willingly give my 
 life for you. From this hour there shall be no 
 more sorrow for us." 
 
 What is Barbet trying to show them ? 
 
 " Is it that wretched boat which excites him so ?" 
 
 " Yes, yonder, with the brown sail. The boat 
 which sails in our wake." 
 
 " It seems as if it followed us, tack for tack. I 
 will find out." 
 
 "Silvere, do not let us trouble ourselves about 
 other people's affairs when they are no concern of 
 ours. Let each one be left to his own devices! "
 
 158 A FISHER GIRL OF FRANCE. 
 
 Silvere was obstinate. He changed the boat's 
 course, he tacked and luffed at random, or kept 
 straight ahead. The other boat followed each 
 manoeuvre exactly. 
 
 The chase lasted for five hours. As they had to 
 wait for the tide they kept in the open sea, so as to 
 have more room than in the channel; but what- 
 ever direction Silvere took he always saw astern 
 the little brown sail, taking the wind just as he did. 
 It became irritating. He kept his eyes on his un- 
 known enemy, but, whenever he tried to overtake 
 him, the brown sail always escaped before he was 
 near enough to recognize it. 
 
 " It is not from our village. It must be a boat 
 from Cayeux. Parbleu ! We have not had our 
 eyes open. I recognize that short mast. It is the 
 Marie-Albert of Saint-Valery, Barnab6's uncle's 
 boat. There are two men on board and I imagine 
 that he is one of them, the wretched landlubber." 
 
 Elise was seized with painful forebodings. Was 
 she never to have a quarter of an hour's pleasure 
 free from fears? What could he be after, this 
 Barnabe', that he attached himself to her as if she 
 belonged to him ? 
 
 " I will overtake him," cried Silvere suddenly. 
 " I will have satisfaction or capsize first." 
 
 " Silvere, I beg you, give up this useless pursuit. 
 If we come up with Barnabe' what complaint have 
 we to make. Trouble comes fast enough without 
 going to meet it half-way." 
 
 " Elise, since we have spare time let us make use 
 of it. Look to the sail Starboard."
 
 A FISHER GIRL OF FRANCE. 159 
 
 Pressed against the tiller Silvere paid no atten- 
 tion to her, and spoke only to give orders. He 
 changed the boat's course so quickly that she re- 
 ceived blows and shocks enough to capsize her. 
 They gained on the enemy by skilful sailing, but 
 she quickly made up what she had lost, and the men 
 in both boats were so occupied, one in flying, the 
 other in pursuing, that they paid no attention to 
 their course. It was a wonder that they had not 
 run aground on the shoals twenty times. 
 
 At one time they were so close together that the 
 men glared at one another, and excited by this ex- 
 change of angry looks threw at each other a volley 
 of insults. 
 
 "You great gull, you shall not have Elise to your- 
 self. I will come and take her in such a fashion that 
 she will not resist." 
 
 " Look after yourself. Your claws shall be cut 
 for you." 
 
 Barnabe's uncle, an old fellow with a groggy nose, 
 kept sullenly silent, evidently in a very bad humor. 
 Elise interposed : 
 
 " Silvere, I pray, let us leave them alone if we 
 wish them to leave us alone." 
 
 "No, I will scour the hair of this miserable cur. 
 What business has he to come smelling after us ? 
 Starboard port." 
 
 His orders followed so quickly, that they were 
 tossed about without cessation. All at once Elise 
 uttered a cry of distress. 
 
 "Silvere, we have returned to the Vergoyer." 
 
 Silvere did not hear. He did not know what
 
 160 A FISHER GIRL OF FRANCE. 
 
 risks he ran, or where he was going. He saw only 
 a brown sail which continually escaped him, and 
 which he had sworn to overhaul if he had to follow 
 it to the shores of England. 
 
 Every instant there came new tacks and new 
 shocks, and on the choppy sea of the Vergoyer the 
 two boats pitched wildly. 
 
 "We shall overhaul them, Elise port ! " 
 
 " Silvere, do not take the trouble. See, here is our 
 buoy. We are back again at the lost sailor's gulf." 
 
 " Be quiet. You keep the boat back by your 
 talking. We are losing headway. Port Lise 
 Lise " 
 
 " What makes you grow so pale ! You frighten 
 me!" 
 
 " Lise Lise ' 
 
 " Enough, Silvere. We risk our lives at every 
 tack. Shall we keep on until the Vergoyer has de- 
 voured us too? You frighten me you are so 
 pale speak to me speak to me. Let us give up 
 the chase, I beg, as a proof of friendship." 
 
 . " Lise Lise 
 
 " Are you suffering ? answer me have you 
 had a blow ? We shall surely be capsized if we do 
 not get away from here." 
 
 " Elise there there " 
 
 " Speak plainly ! You are killing me with 
 anxiety ! " 
 
 " There the brown sail " 
 
 " Misery ! Can it be ? What has become of 
 her? I cannot see her. Barnab ahoy! " 
 
 Elise shouted again and kept on shouting, but
 
 A FISHER GIRL OF FRANCE. ll 
 
 Barnab did not answer. At the minute she had 
 lost sight of him he had brought his boat about at 
 the wrong moment, and it had turned over so easily 
 that it seemed as if he had intended it. 
 
 Poor Barnabe" ! He had better have gone again 
 on the Bon-Pecheur. But at the thought of finding 
 himself face to face with Florimond for long weeks, 
 fast between two planks with no chance of escape, 
 he was anxious to cancel his engagement. His re- 
 quest had been promptly granted. No one regrets 
 losing a bad companion. 
 
 Their thoughts were full of him as Elise and Sil- 
 vere left the Vergoyer. Poor Barnab6! He was 
 not really bad at heart. He was more dangerous 
 in his friendships than in his enmity, for his evil 
 tongue spoiled all the good he did. He certainly 
 did delight to annoy others, and so was the cause of 
 his own death. Ought one not to forgive him? 
 
 Elise remained thoughtful for a long time. She 
 had gone to the stern, and was leaning on Silvere's 
 shoulder while he delicately lent himself to the rdle 
 of protector. He laid a course that did not require 
 him to change the sail, and in working the tiller he 
 was careful not to stir his shoulder where Elise's 
 head was lying quietly in melancholy abstraction. 
 Sweet Elise ! He did not dare to bend his head so 
 as to look at her, but he felt that she was in a revery, 
 and held his great body still in a sort of respectful 
 adoration. 
 
 He surrounded her with caressing thoughts. He 
 felt the warmth of her forehead on his shoulder, her 
 hair brushed his cheek. He heard her breath light
 
 1 62 A FISHER GIRL OF FRANCE. 
 
 and soft in rhythm with the rough breathing of Bar- 
 bet. The rise and fall of her chest, supported on 
 his own, sent through him a shiver of pleasure. 
 He smiled over her, his dear Elise, with that sweet 
 smile which fathers have for frail children to whom 
 they give all tenderness. 
 
 Elise's thought was at the same time pleasant 
 and sorrowful. She held Barbet between her 
 crossed arms and craftily closed his mouth to re- 
 strain his joyous outbursts. Truly the dog was 
 lacking in reserve. From the moment that the 
 brown sail had disappeared he had broken out into 
 joyful barks. Even at this very moment, notwith- 
 standing her fingers which with all their might held 
 his mouth closed, he half opened it and threw out 
 little joyful cries. Elise awoke with a start from 
 her dream. 
 
 "You have no respect, Barbet. Come, be quiet. 
 It is only a villain who rejoices over the death of 
 others. Be quiet." 
 
 Recalled to propriety by a light tap on the nose, 
 Barbet lay silently in arms which held him tightly. 
 Then Elise fell a-thinking again, while Silvere, ten- 
 der as a lover, attentive as a faithful friend, sup- 
 ported her. He was happy because he saw that her 
 confidence had returned, and he was taking her 
 home. 
 
 They entered the channel, slipping homeward with 
 the tide as it came into the bay. Already the last 
 gleams of twilight had faded from the sea and left 
 it black, for the night was without moon and with- 
 out stars. The breeze had not changed since morn-
 
 HE WAS HAPPY, BECAUSE HE SAW THAT HER CONFIDENCE 
 HAD RETURNED. 
 
 Chap. IS.
 
 A FISHER GIRL OF FRANCE. 163 
 
 ing and Silvere counted less on it than on the tide. 
 He held the tiller fast, and not having to work the 
 boat gave himself up to the enjoyment of the mo- 
 ment. 
 
 He started suddenly with an intuition of danger. 
 Quick ! This is no time for dreams. Night is the 
 time for collisions. Besides, was not a soul in his 
 keeping ? Ought he not to watch over this child 
 whom he held trembling on his heart ? 
 
 " Listen, Elise. I am sorry to break in on your 
 revery, but there is a tug behind us drawing a large 
 boat. I think it is a schooner from the orders given 
 out. She will surely run us down if we do not light 
 our lanterns." 
 
 He was right. Hardly had the lantern glimmered 
 at the mast-head when there came from the direction 
 where he had heard the noise a shout, in a voice 
 which emotion rendered sweet and far reaching: 
 
 "Boat ahoy! Ahoy!" 
 
 Silvere steered his boat one side to avoid a colli- 
 sion, and when, behind the tug, there passed through 
 the darkness a large schooner with lofty masts, the 
 same clear voice came from her deck : 
 
 " Silvere Pollenne Elise He"nin Ahoy ! " 
 
 " Chretien Loirat ! " 
 
 "And the Danzels and old Coulin !" 
 
 " All aboard here ! " 
 
 Hurrah ! They were all there the four men who 
 were lost from the Bon-Pecheur Chretien, the two 
 big fellows, and the old sailor. All were safe again. 
 Firtnin no doubt would soon come in his turn. 
 
 Then, in an outburst of happiness, Elise threw
 
 l6 4 A FISHER GIRL OF FRANCE. 
 
 herself into the arms of her lover, who pressed her 
 gently to his breast. 
 
 " Silvere, I should have been dead if you had not 
 loved me. Now we will be married and together 
 will take care of Mother Pilote."
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 THE four sailors of the Bon-Pecheur could not 
 return home at once. They were on a schooner 
 bound to Saint-Valery, and had to wait until, at 
 dawn, the outgoing tide would leave the bay dry. 
 But when Silvere reached home that night he 
 spread the news of their return, and their wives, who 
 had waited so long, were only too happy at the 
 thought of going to meet them. 
 
 All had donned their best clothes, and, with 
 white bonnets and skirts so gay that they seemed 
 to brighten the night, were ready when, at two 
 o'clock in the morning, the sand began to be bare. 
 
 Over the bay it was still night. The lanterns on 
 the far-off quay of Saint-Valery were their only 
 guides, as, in the darkness, the party tramped across 
 the rough sands and splashed through the pools. 
 
 The children, sodden with sleep, dragged them- 
 selves along, and the poor old lame grandmothers 
 tried to keep up with the young wives, who walked 
 briskly as if their impatience set their pace. First 
 came the wives of the two big fellows. Each car- 
 ried a baby in her arms, while other children held 
 on to their skirts. Then, in a family group, came 
 the sons and daughters of the old sailor. Some, 
 grown up and married, had babies of their own, oth- 
 ers were still only boys and girls. Last of all came 
 
 165
 
 1 66 A FISHER GIRL Of FRANCE. 
 
 Chretien's mother, elderly but not yet old, though 
 already uncertain of step. 
 
 Good Mother Loirat had had a hard fight during 
 the seventeen years of her widowhood. By severe 
 toil she had won a livelihood from these arid sands, 
 and had brought up four sons. Alas ! The sea had 
 taken three of them in one day, all lost with Henin's 
 boat. And now that the youngest was old enough 
 to earn their bread, she had believed that he, too, 
 was lost. 
 
 Like all unfortunates whom trouble has followed, 
 even in their old age, she had long since given up 
 hope, but her last energies had been awakened by 
 this final blow. Her sweet Chretien, blond and 
 bright-eyed, was the one of her four sons who most 
 closely resembled his father. 
 
 Father Loirat had been one of the crew of a lug- 
 ger of Hourdel. It fished during the week on the 
 coast, but returned to its own port, every Saturday, 
 to enjoy the Sunday's rest. His wages were small, 
 and the work uncertain ; but if he made a poor liv- 
 ing, he was at least able to spend one day a week 
 with his family. 
 
 When Mother Loirat thought of those Sundays 
 of other days, her eyes filled with tears. Her hus- 
 band took a child in each hand and she a third in 
 her arms, and they walked along the dunes under 
 the open sky, or they watched the weather. He 
 lay on the sands, smoking his pipe without a 
 thought. She, seated beside him, hushed the baby 
 to sleep on her knees. They sought no other pleas- 
 ure than to be together, and good Mother Loirat,
 
 A FISHER GIRL OF FRANCE, 167 
 
 who had never known happier days, looked back on 
 them regretfully, as on a vision of the past full of 
 sweet pictures and tender recollections. 
 
 One Saturday in September, after a heavy equi- 
 noctial tide, her husband had come home burning 
 with fever, his eyes bright, his limbs shaking. 
 Twenty-four hours after he was dead, just one 
 month before his fourth child was born. Loirat 
 was named Chretien. In memory of him the new- 
 born child was given the same name, and as he grew 
 up he more and more recalled his father by his 
 open face and frank nature. 
 
 To Mother Loirat he was always her little lad, 
 her Chretien, blond and frank-eyed. Had sixteen 
 years then really passed since he was born? Was it 
 not rather yesterday that, during the day tides, she 
 had carried him in her basket on her back, and set 
 him down on the sand, while she bent over busily 
 gathering shells? When she came back to him, 
 weighed down by her load, she forgot her fatigue in 
 watching his sweet little smile. 
 
 During the night tides she left him sleeping in 
 her cabin with his elder brothers, all young to- 
 gether. She had worked fast at such times, so as 
 not to return late and find the child awake and cry- 
 ing for her. 
 
 To him, the same as to others, came the time when 
 he was old enough to learn a trade. So he had 
 sailed on the Bon-PhJieur. And one night they had 
 come to his mother to tell her that he was lost. 
 She, who had borne without complaining, all the 
 caprices of fate the loss of her husband and of her
 
 168 A FISHER GIRL OF FRANCE. 
 
 three sons, had had for Chretien her first outbreak 
 of indignation and revolt. Had she not more than 
 paid her debt, and was it not now for others to 
 give to the sea the tribute which she demands, as 
 a kind of revenge, from the men who harass 
 her? 
 
 No, she would not believe that her boy was dead, 
 and the night before she had received the news of 
 his return as quietly as if it had been a thing fore- 
 seen. But she was none the less impatient. Under 
 her furrowed brow, her keen eye looked through the 
 shadows of the night for the figure she was awaiting. 
 
 Dawn was coming, but the distant landmarks 
 were still lost in a heavy obscurity. A strange 
 atmosphere came off the sea. They could hardly 
 breathe. Though it was the end of night it was as 
 warm as at midday. At long intervals, in the south, 
 beyond the steeple of Saint-Valery, pale lightnings 
 furrowed the sky. The storm seemed at times as 
 though it would not reach them. Under the op- 
 pression of the weather they had slackened their 
 pace, and at the first gleam of day were only at the 
 middle of the bay. A stream, broad if not deep, 
 which they could not pass without wading up to 
 their knees, brought them to a halt. The wives of 
 the two big sailors had already tucked up their 
 skirts and were passing the children across, tossing 
 them from hand to hand and carrying the larger ones 
 astride their backs. 
 
 "Come, good Mother Loirat, it is your turn." 
 
 The poor thing weighed nothing at all. She 
 took up so little room in the strong arms which car-
 
 A FISHER GIRL OF FRANCE. 169 
 
 ried her, that the woman could not help saying 
 kindly: 
 
 "One would make little profit off of you, Mother 
 Loirat. You have not more than twenty-five 
 pounds of fat to sell." 
 
 "Trouble is poor nourishment, my poor daughter. 
 When you have eaten as much of it as I, you will 
 have as little flesh on your bones." 
 
 But there was no time to lose in talk. Across the 
 white clouds which were fast increasing, the steeple 
 of the church of Saint- Valery stood out above the 
 dark mass of houses and of trees over which it tow- 
 ered, while at the foot of the town the channel of 
 the Somme was plainly marked, as it took its even 
 course seaward. The women looked about them. 
 They could see nothing, could hear none of those 
 joyful outbursts which ordinarily announce sailors' 
 return. 
 
 They made haste, but so did the storm. For- 
 tunately it was kept back by the very heaviness of 
 its masses of clouds. They had reached the banks 
 of the Somme when the first lightning flash parted 
 the clouds above the church of Saint-Valery, a bru- 
 tal, blinding flash, followed by such a crash of thun- 
 der that the frightened children hid their faces in 
 their mothers' skirts. 
 
 With one voice they shouted for help. Where 
 was the ferryman? Was the man paid by the town 
 to do nothing, to sleep comfortably dry while trav- 
 ellers were drowned in the storm? 
 
 "It is no new thing for us to be wet," said the 
 thin voice of Mother Loirat. "Are we not always
 
 I 7 A FISHER GIRL OF FRANCE. 
 
 drenched by the tides? You are too fond of an 
 easy life. Wait a little, my daughters, you will find 
 times grow harder as you grow older." 
 
 These reflections did not stop their outcry. The 
 storm enveloped all the bay. As they stood on the 
 banks of the stream, too deep for them to cross, 
 exposed to its fury, the group of crying children 
 and clamoring women seemed, with their angry 
 voices, Cries, and their shrinking attitudes like ship- 
 wrecked seals. 
 
 "Are you going to wait there until you are dry?" 
 cried, from behind, a cheerful voice. "You must 
 have a good many clothes to wash." 
 
 "Whom are you mocking, you great sea-gull? 
 Are you not as soaked as the rest? This is a 
 nice time for you to be taking your Lise for a 
 walk." 
 
 When Silvere and Elise joined the group of 
 women and children there was an exchange of words, 
 and explanations without end. 
 
 "What brought you on our wet tracks with your 
 Lise?" 
 
 Elise, who had been half-hidden behind Silvere's 
 shoulder, stepped forward to reply. The night 
 before, on her return, she had received a message, 
 and an order to present herself at the Maritime 
 Bureau the next morning at six o'clock, on a matter 
 referring to her father. Like all poor people, she 
 had, to save the fare of the boat which crossed at 
 full tide, preferred to walk, taking advantage of the 
 ebb. This took six hours from her sleep, but she.
 
 'ARE YOU GOING TO WAIT THERE UNTIL YOU ARE DRY?" 
 
 Chap. 19.
 
 A FISHER GIRL OF FRANCE. I?I 
 
 would not lose in a twenty minutes' trip a whole 
 day's wages. 
 
 All this time nothing appeared on the other bank. 
 With a man's authority, Silvere gave his advice. 
 Since no one came to help them, they had better 
 follow the stream to the place where the boats lay 
 at anchor. They would be less wretched there, if 
 they could not find any one to ferry them across to 
 the town.
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 THE wharf was as busy a scene as if it had been 
 midday. Among the brigs and schooners unloading 
 wood from Norway, the women were not long in 
 making out a strange-looking steamer. She did not 
 have paddles like a tug, she was shorter than a 
 despatch-boat, and not so sharp as a corvette. Her 
 deck was loaded with rope ladders, with long tubes, 
 and strange dresses. On her davits hung boats 
 such as were ordinarily found only on larger vessels, 
 a big ship's boat, and a steam-launch. 
 
 "Look there, Elise, this surely has something to 
 do with your father. You can see visors such as 
 divers wear." 
 
 The steamer had really come in answer to Elise's 
 petition, which had reached the Maritime Prefect at 
 Dunkirk at a time when trials of diving apparatus 
 were about to be made. They wished to experi- 
 ment at different depths, to investigate the charac- 
 ter of the seas, to test dangerous whirlpools, eddies, 
 and contrary currents. The rough waters of Berck 
 and Etaples had been selected for the experiment. 
 The search which Elise asked for gave an oppor- 
 tunity for practice. It was a sort of practical 
 problem, the solution of which would confirm scien- 
 tific theories. The steamer had then naturally been 
 ordered to put herself in communication with the
 
 A FISHER GIRL OF FRANCE. *73 
 
 Bureau at Saint-Valery, to obtain the additional 
 information necessary to its work. 
 
 The experiments were to commence at the next 
 tide, and all the town had waked up well before its 
 usual hour. At the quay, on the river bank, on the 
 side of the town near the steamer, which was already 
 smoking, groups of sailors were talking excitedly. 
 Among them the women speedily recognized their 
 husbands, more interested in listening than in seeing 
 their families. They hardly turned their heads at 
 the call which Silvere threw at them from the oppo- 
 site pier. 
 
 Nevertheless, a service boat came alongside, and 
 a few moments afterward mothers, wives, and chil- 
 dren joined the men. Their embraces were short. 
 Their hearts were stirred only by this great news: 
 the Vergoyer was to be explored. 
 
 A legend had grown from age to age about this 
 gulf, to which each year added fresh victims. The 
 names of those who had been lost there with their 
 boats had been told over and over so often that it 
 had come to be believed that, from generation to 
 generation, since the ages, enormous riches had been 
 piling up in this accursed gulf. Had not, only two 
 springs before, after a storm from the north, one of 
 those storms when the sea cuts away the sands, a 
 lugger from Cayeux, buried more than thirty years 
 before, been thrown up and floated? It was found 
 aground on its side, as strong as when new. Other 
 wrecks had been thrown up with it, and with them 
 an old box stuffed with pistoles, which had made 
 the finder rich.
 
 174 A FISHER GIRL OF FRANCE. 
 
 This old shipwrecked lugger, which had taken a 
 fresh lease of life, after having so long a lapse, had 
 since led a happy existence. She had all the bold- 
 ness of one brought back to life, one who had been 
 in the realms of death, and thereafter feared noth- 
 ing. The captain who bought her faced the rough- 
 est weather in her. How many others might, like 
 her, be recovered, good for use ? There was no 
 doubt that they would find treasures enough to fill 
 the pockets of all the coasters of the bay, and every 
 man hoped to take part in the work. 
 
 Perhaps they might be hired. They were not 
 familiar with the work, but was it necessary for one 
 to have studied much to know how to put on a 
 visor and dig in the wet sand? If one should find a 
 box of gold like that other, one would be rich 
 enough to fit out a big fishing-boat and be a captain 
 in one's turn. And it is much pleasanter to be a 
 captain than a hand. 
 
 The sailors urged one another to go to the officers 
 of the steamer and find out if work was offered, and 
 under what conditions they would have a chance to 
 be taken. 
 
 They did not stop talking for an instant, and 
 talking is dry work, so they soon entered the* first 
 open tavern, and there talked on, very much at their 
 ease, before their full bowls of hot coffee. The 
 children lay asleep on the benches or in the cor- 
 ners. The sun had risen long ago, but they had 
 not yet decided who should go and ask the 
 officers. 
 
 "Let's find Lise," cried one of the big fellows,
 
 A FISHER GIRL OF FRANCE. 175 
 
 with moist lips and bright eyes. Three cups of 
 coffee had rubbed up his ideas. 
 
 As one man they overturned the benches, and, 
 swallowing at a gulp what was left in their cups, 
 dashed out of the tavern to find Elise. 
 
 She was seated at the door of the Bureau, on the 
 first of three steps where, for whole days during the 
 last weeks, she had waited so often for the commis- 
 saire to come out. But where yesterday she was so 
 unhappy, she was to-day full of new hopes. 
 
 The wives of the two big fellows were the first to 
 arrive, dragging their children off their feet beside 
 them, and urging their husbands to ask the^ young 
 girl's help. They shouted and gestured, as if count- 
 ing on noise to prove their prior rights. While all 
 talked wildly around Elise, the old sailor, who had 
 kept back, was attacked by his two older daughters. 
 
 They urged that he, too, should try to get work 
 on the steamer; if there were treasures to be found, 
 it would be too stupid to leave them to other peo- 
 ple. He did not yield easily, and the nearer the 
 time came to act the more he hesitated. For his 
 part, he had seen enough misery on top of the 
 water, without going underneath in search of it. At 
 his age he had no taste for convict's work. 
 
 But by his resistance he only increased the 
 urgency of his daughters, who grew frantic in their 
 attempts to convince him. Mother Loirat heard 
 them. She was so angry that she interposed: 
 
 "The old man is right, it is no work for honest 
 men. Every one despises miscreants who get rich 
 by stealing dead men's money."
 
 I7 6 A FISHEK GIRL OF FRANCE. 
 
 Then she went to Elise : 
 
 "Do not try to help them, my child. All they 
 want is to steal the money of those who have been 
 shipwrecked." 
 
 "Have no fear, good Mother Loirat. I have not 
 given the money a thought. All I want is to free 
 the soul of my father and your three sons. You 
 and Chretien will go. You have the right which 
 your tears have given you." 
 
 A feeling of rage and disappointment passed 
 through the crowd of sailors, furious at the con- 
 tempt which Elise showed for them. They began 
 to growl out threats. 
 
 "Ahoy there, sailors, clear the road for your bet- 
 ters. Ahoy!" The big fellows and all the women 
 turned about at the sharp, impertinent voice which 
 demanded room so cavalierly. 
 
 "A ship's figure-head on a seal's skeleton! 
 Wretched bundle! He shall not pass! the baboon! 
 he is all humps and no hollows." 
 
 The little clerk struggled, and Elise made a dash 
 forward to clear the way to the Bureau for him, 
 when suddenly the sailors fell back of themselves. 
 Between their two files, drawn back respectfully, 
 came the under-commissaire, very dignified in his 
 silver-laced hat. He recognized Elise. 
 
 "You are not late ; it is well. Pass in before me." 
 
 Elise hesitated. She looked about for Silvere, 
 who had gone to the quay to make inquiries. She 
 wanted to wait for him. Could she dare face alone 
 and unaided the majesty of the Bureau? The chief
 
 A FISHER GIRL OF FRANCE.. 1 77 
 
 pushed her forward, then he went in after her, and 
 was followed by the little clerk, who slammed the 
 door furiously in the faces of the dumfounded 
 sailors. 
 
 The commissaire was punctual. The last stroke 
 of six was just sounding. 
 
 Some minutes after the door opened. The clerk 
 reappeared, and from the top of the three steps 
 overlooked the crowd of sailors arrogantly. He 
 held a roll of papers in his hand and struck an atti- 
 tude, as if about to read something important. All 
 eyes grew large, all mouths opened in fixed atten- 
 tion. He unrolled his paper and spread it out; 
 when he saw that they were taken in by his trick he 
 put it back in his pocket, and said quietly: 
 
 "Is Silvere Pollenne among you, please?" 
 
 All faces lengthened with disappointment. Sil- 
 vere had just that moment returned from the quay. 
 He followed the clerk into the office, and the door 
 slammed furiously a second time before the dazed 
 looks of the sailors. .'.'" 
 
 It opened again a quarter of an hour later. The 
 little clerk came out, entirely hidden behind an 
 enormous register which aroused fresh hopes. 
 They needed men without doubt. They would 
 make those sign the book whom they engaged. 
 
 They began to push one another about, to be 
 first. There was a delay of at least three minutes, 
 then the book was closed, and the imperturbable clerk 
 shrilly, but just loud enough to be heard, called out: 
 
 "Mme. Loirat and Chretien Loirat, will you have
 
 I? 8 A FISHER GIRL OF FRANCE. 
 
 the kindness tc answer? You are requested to 
 enter." 
 
 They went in together, and the door closed after 
 them with two slams more irritating than a box on 
 the ears. 
 
 "He despises us, does he, this baboon?" Sailors, 
 children, above all the women, picked up stones, 
 resolved to punish this insolent fellow if he dared 
 show himself. All hands were raised, when they 
 heard the noise of the door open. They dropped 
 immediately. 
 
 The commissaire came out, with Elise at his side ; 
 behind her Silvere, Chretien, Mother Loirat, and 
 finally M. Emile, the little clerk. He moved his 
 hump about delightedly, did M. Emile, as he passed 
 before the big sailors, proud as a king's fool before 
 the courtiers. He had the body of a child and, not- 
 withstanding his great high, shiny silk hat, he did 
 not come up to the sailors' shoulders. He walked 
 along no less pompously on that account, bursting 
 with impertinent pride. 
 
 "There ! Pick that up if you wish to move your 
 hump!" 
 
 Two blows had knocked his high hat into the 
 mud. It was a signal for the sailors to stampede. 
 They set off in haste, while M. Emile stood still, 
 gazing after his injured headpiece. He was a truly 
 piteous spectacle, as he looked at it all crushed out 
 of shape. Tears came to his eyes, which became 
 more lack-lustre than ever. Fortunately Elise saw 
 him. She ran and picked up his hat, brushed and 
 set it right, and put it on.
 
 A F1SUER GIRL OF FRANCE. i?9 
 
 "I wore it to please you, Mile. Elise. These rus- 
 tics are jealous at my fine appearance." 
 
 "Come quickly ! Your chief is scowling. I trem- 
 ble for you." 
 
 They joined the under-commissaire, who turned 
 his head quietly and said shortly: 
 
 "I have been thinking, M. Emile, and I have no 
 further need for you. Return to the Bureau. We 
 will talk matters over to-night." 
 
 "Oh, sir," Elise begged, "forgive him. It is not 
 his fault. It is his misfortune." 
 
 The under-commissaire did not appear to hear 
 her. He continued his route toward the quay 
 where the steamer was anchored.
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 IT was seven o'clock by the sun when the steamer 
 came into the waters of the Vergoyer. A perfect 
 fleet followed it. They had come from Cayeux, 
 Hourdel, Berck, Crotoy, even from Treport, and, per- 
 haps, Etaples. Nowadays news travels far by tele- 
 graph, and, thanks to the connection between the 
 Maritime Bureaus, word was scattered far and wide 
 that they were going to explore the gulf ; that the 
 living were to see with their own eyes the abode of 
 the dead. 
 
 Like so many birds of prey after a wounded 
 whale, boats of all sizes and all rigs, sloops, barges, 
 luggers, flambarts, followed in the wake of the 
 steamer. They were all after plunder, all hoping to 
 get rich easily. Divers often used explosives at the 
 bottom of the sea to break up wrecks, and then the 
 cttbris floated. If they came across any such wreck- 
 age, it might be very valuable. 
 
 Elise was on the bridge of the steamer with the 
 captain. Having told how the night before she and 
 Silvere had discovered the lost sailors' gulf, she was 
 directed to lay their course to their float. 
 
 The captain, a handsome, white-haired old man, 
 passed her orders to the man at the wheel, who 
 steered accordingly. 
 
 Elise's dress made a strong'contrast with the gold- 
 
 180
 
 A FISHER GIRL OF FRANCE. 181 
 
 laced suits of the officers who surrounded her, but 
 among all these grave faces she seemed none the 
 less dignified nor beautiful. Her white neckerchief, 
 on her dark waist, caught the sunlight, as if to em- 
 phasize her emotion, and her face was full of sweet- 
 ness. One would have said that an emanation from 
 her soul floated about her like an aureole, clothing 
 her in all the grace of a new hope. 
 
 The steamer went its way, followed by the fleet 
 of white, brown, gray, and red sails. It seemed, with 
 this army which followed it, as if advancing to cer- 
 tain victory. And it was Elise who led all these 
 people to the conquest of the Vergoyer. 
 
 " Stop her ! " The steamer lay motionless. The 
 large launch was put into the water, then the other 
 boats and the long-boat, in which Elise took her 
 place with the commissaire and the principal officers. 
 
 " Captain, if you will look to larboard, you can see 
 our float." 
 
 It lay two cable-lengths away, and became at once 
 the center of action. The captain shouted orders in 
 all directions through his trumpet, and each boat 
 took its position for work around the frail float, 
 which, tossed roughly by the waves, seemed a prey 
 hunted down by a ring of fishing-boats. 
 
 The launch came into the wind close abreast of it. 
 
 Facing her, just far enough away not to interfere in 
 the work, lay the long-boat, and beside it another, in 
 which were Silvere, Chretien, and Mother Loirat. 
 They were like two galleries of spectators the offi- 
 cers sitting in judgment, and the relatives waiting 
 the revelations of this strange search.
 
 1 82 A FISHER GIRL OF FRANCE. 
 
 The launch and the large boats were anchored. 
 Further away, making up the circle, several boats lay 
 on their oars, ready to answer any sudden call. 
 After the soundings had been verified as sixty 
 fathoms, the divers began to work. Elise's heart 
 beat wildly. Over the side of the launch was un- 
 rolled into the sea a rope ladder, which seemed long 
 enough to reach the center of the earth. So many 
 rounds were paid out, and disappeared under the 
 waves in endless succession, that it seemed as if it? 
 would descend into eternity. Still twenty-five 
 fathoms and one hundred steps to pay out. Never 
 had living man gone to such depths to seaich for 
 the dead. Elise shivered to her very marrow. 
 
 The unrolling of the ladder stopped. A man 
 stepped over the side of the boat, dressed in a suit 
 of rubber with a head-piece having squares of glass 
 and two tubes in it. He had more than an inch of 
 lead on each of his shoes. It was to help him de- 
 scend into the abyss. 
 
 Unfortunate man ! He seized the first rounds 
 and touched the water. He began to descend his 
 feet, his legs, the lower part of his body disappeared 
 beneath the waves. Misery! All the stuff of his 
 suit puffed up on his shoulders as if it were his skin 
 which had swollen. For one instant it seemed as if 
 he stopped, hesitating, as if the gulf pushed him 
 back and would none of him. 
 
 " Stop him ! " cried Elise. " I wish above every- 
 thing to find my father, but it is not right to make 
 another lose his life on my account. I will make 
 the descent. Order him back, captain."
 
 A FISHER GIRL OF FRANCE. 183 
 
 Wiiy did all the officers hear this innocent 
 demand from Elise with a smile? Was it wrong to 
 wish to snatch an innocent man from an abyss? 
 She had seen her father so unhappy in those depths. 
 Was it necessary for others to lose their lives, also, 
 and unnecessarily? Barnabe, too; he was there 
 since yesterday. 
 
 " Captain, I beg you, order the man back. I wish 
 to take his place." 
 
 "No, not you," cried Chretien, " I will go, Ma'm- 
 selle Elise." 
 
 But all these offers were made in vain. The 
 diver was out of sight ; only the tremblings of the 
 ladder, and the paying out of safety cords and the 
 tube, showed that he was descending. Bubbles of 
 air broke suddenly by the hundred about them. 
 
 " Oh, captain, look ! it is just like a drowning 
 man." 
 
 " Be quiet," cried Mother Loirat. " Let the man 
 attend to his business, and do you attend to yours. 
 Women should not interfere with men who are at 
 work." 
 
 The ladder stopped shaking, the paying out 
 ceased, and the lieutenant in charge in the launch 
 spoke, and then listened at the end of one of the 
 tubes. He gave orders to the four sailors, who had 
 been steadily working a pump. Then he went on 
 listening and speaking, stopping at intervals, to give 
 out orders. By his direction a great lantern was 
 lowered by a tackle, which lighted up the seas like 
 the rays of the sun. At the same time, from the 
 boat's side, ropes were paid out, one with an arm-
 
 1 84 A FISHER GIRL OF FRANCE. 
 
 ful of tubes, picks, pickaxes, and shovels ; the other 
 with an empty sack, which came up less than a 
 quarter of an hour afterward, filled with sand that 
 sand under which Elise's father was lying. 
 
 The talking through the tubes began again. Soon 
 a second tackle was rigged, from which swung an 
 iron cask, which was lowered into the sea. Then a 
 new pump worked, and there was a half hour during 
 which Elise leaned over the abyss, exhausted with 
 watching and frightened by hopes and fears. 
 
 At a signal from the depths, the lieutenant called : 
 " Hoist the cask ! " 
 
 The pulley of the tackle turned many times under 
 the rope. It hardly creaked. It seemed to be lift- 
 ing no weight at all. At last they saw the cask 
 below the surface, with a shadow so long that it 
 seemed to reach the bottom. " Halt! " The cask 
 is at the surface. 
 
 " Look after the wreckage ! " cried the captain 
 through his trumpet, and two little boats left their 
 station in the circle and placed themselves one on 
 either side of the tackle. 
 
 " Hoist ! " The cask rose, with the water stream- 
 ing from it like a fountain. Instantly the cordage 
 bit the pulley, which began to creak dolorously. 
 " Halt ! " The block stopped. It was held rigidly 
 by the great weight below it. 
 
 " Make the wreckage fast ! " When the little boats 
 had done this, the cask was swung inward and its 
 burden was aboard the launch. 
 " What is it ? " cried the captain. 
 " A mizzen sail two dead bodies in it."
 
 A FISHER GIRL OF FRANCE. 185 
 
 The officers uncovered, and bowed their heads 
 devoutly. 
 
 "Alongside!" ordered the captain, as he put on 
 his hat. " Alongside ! " 
 
 By his cheerful voice one could see that he was 
 well satisfied. 
 
 His instructions were exact. To make experi- 
 ments with the improved apparatus at depths hith- 
 erto unexplored, to study the comparative influence 
 of pressure, the action of eddies and currents on the 
 movements of divers, to find whether the sand was 
 solid or movable, to establish, in a word, a sort of 
 chart for the use of submarine investigations in 
 these dangerous waters ; such had been the cap- 
 tain's task, a sort of preparatory investigation, with 
 which the search for dead bodies had only been in- 
 directly connected. 
 
 Happily these experiments had been terminated 
 sooner than he had hoped. He had been directed, 
 if it were advisable, to accede to Elise's petition, 
 but he had not thought this detail of much impor- 
 ance, as it seemed to him entirely foreign to the 
 scientific side of the matter. But the results had 
 been so favorable that, in less than an hour of work, 
 the men whom he had been ordered to look for had 
 been found. 
 
 " Well, my daughter, are you satisfied? You see 
 they have found your father. Are you satisfied? " 
 
 " It is not my father, captain. It is Barnab6 of 
 Crotoy, and his uncle from Saint-Valery. They 
 were capsized here only yesterday. My father lies 
 under the sand."
 
 1 86 A FISHER GIRL OF FRANCE. 
 
 The old officer frowned. So much the worse. 
 After all, drowned men are all alike. They had 
 brought back two bodies from a depth of sixty 
 fathoms. The question was as satisfactorily proved 
 by these as it would have been by the others. 
 Was one to dig for eight days in one place when 
 there was so much to explore? 
 
 Besides, the sky made him anxious. The wind, 
 which for three days had been uncertain, and which 
 had passed from north to south by way of east, 
 showed an inclination to return to the north by 
 way of west, making thus a complete circuit. It 
 was an ominous sign. When the wind amuses itself, 
 let the sailor have a care. 
 
 " Lieutenant, are your experiments finished ? 
 Yes ? Order the man up." 
 
 Elise rose in revolt. 
 
 " But my father, captain. Are you not going to 
 look for him ? Now that the man is on the bottom, 
 it will be very little trouble to dig in the sand." 
 
 " Order the man up ! " 
 
 " Captain, make him dig instead. If he comes 
 up, is he to go down again ? " 
 
 The captain snapped his fingers impatiently. He 
 was not accustomed to resistance to his authority, 
 and habits of discipline had given him that short- 
 ness of manner which distinguishes sailors aboard 
 ship. 
 
 " Be quiet, my daughter. You did not wish to 
 let him go down a moment ago, and now you do 
 not wish him to come up. Caprice cannot govern a 
 ship. Lieutenant, order the man up."
 
 A FISHER GIRL OF FRANCE, 187 
 
 Elise was desperate. All her strength left her 
 suddenly. She sank down, with clasped hands and 
 uplifted look. Two tears, gliding slowly from her 
 soft, black eyes stopped, trembling, on her lashes, and, 
 sparkling in the sunlight, seemed to witness the 
 depth of her disappointment. 
 
 She had hoped so much from this visit to the 
 Vergoyer. She would accomplish her task. She 
 would acquit her debt to her father. She would 
 gain his pardon and would earn her reward, she would 
 see Firmin again. This result, so long delayed, won 
 by so many efforts and sufferings, was denied her; it 
 was snatched from her at the moment when she 
 held it, as it were, in her hand. 
 
 " Captain, listen. If the man comes up I wish to 
 go down. If he does not dare to dig, I will. I will 
 dare everything for " 
 
 Choked by a sob, she could not finish. The 
 diver had returned, and, freed from his head-piece, 
 talked freely and gave in a strong voice the details 
 of his descent. 
 
 At that depth he had been hardly able to walk, 
 even with his pick as a walking-stick. He had been 
 moved ' about like one who floats aimlessly and 
 lightly, his equilibrium lost, fearing constantly that 
 he would turn feet upward. He had been obliged 
 to make the shovel fast to the lower part of one leg 
 and the pickaxe to the other, and drag them behind 
 him like two anchors, to keep a foothold on the 
 sand. It was only in this way that he had managed 
 to walk. He had found the wreck near him. It 
 was there by itself. He had seen another, without
 
 l88 A FISHER GIRL OF FRANCE. 
 
 doubt a vessel's hull, a little further off, but he had 
 not dared to go so far. At sixty fathoms one could 
 not count on his equilibrium. 
 
 Besides these two wrecks there was nothing but 
 sand. The bottom spread out like a flat valley at 
 the foot of a mountain-peak. The smooth surface 
 was raised in places by little mounds, on which the 
 sand seemed firmer than it was around them. Just 
 where he had descended, at the place marked by 
 the anchor which Silvere had dropped the plight 
 before, the man had come on one of these mounds 
 which seemed to him higher than the others. He 
 had dug a yard downward without discovering any- 
 thing, but had not been able to go further because 
 the wet sand filled the hole as fast as he dug. 
 
 " You hear what he says," said the captain, turn- 
 ing toward Elise. " We are not equipped for this 
 kind of work. Excavators are needed. I will 
 speak of it in my report to the Minister." 
 
 " The Minister is a long way off," said Elise, 
 "and we are here. Let me go down." 
 
 " Say no more," said the captain rudely. " Haul 
 the ladder aboard." 
 
 " No," cried Elise, exasperated. " If you take up 
 the ladder, I will throw myself overboard. It is too 
 cowardly to have come here to investigate, and go 
 away without finding anything." 
 
 " We have brought up two bodies." 
 
 " Neither of them is my father. You were ordered 
 hereto search for him. If you abandon the work, 
 at least let me go on with it. You have two suits. 
 Silvere will go down with me."
 
 A FISHER GIRL OF FRANCE. 189 
 
 " Let me take your place, Ma'mselle Elise," cried 
 Chretien. " I should always feel ashamed if you 
 were lost. If I reach the bottom I will dig hard, 
 remembering that I am doing it to please you." 
 
 " Lise is right," added Mother Loirat, " people 
 who are in trouble must help themselves." 
 
 The captain, giddy at all these demands, stamped 
 the deck impatiently. 
 
 " Let them have their way. Bring the small boat 
 alongside." It took on board Elise, Silvere, and 
 Chretien, and carried them to the launch. 
 
 "The girl goes first." 
 
 " No ! let me," said the two men, with one voice, 
 " me me." 
 
 " The girl first. Hurry, lieutenant." 
 
 There was no answer possible. The captain had 
 his reasons for not yielding. Wishing to put an 
 end, as quickly as possible, to the claims of these 
 rustics, he sent Elise first, with the secret hope that 
 the deadening effect of the compressed air would 
 bring a girl to terms more quickly than men used 
 to painful exposures. In this way, one trip alone 
 would suffice to discourage all these would-be 
 divers. 
 
 Elise slipped off her dress, wrapping her skirt 
 about each knee, and put on the rubber suit, except 
 the head-piece. Her face, with its fine profile, stood 
 out haughtily above this strange armour, and showed 
 not a tremor when the sailor came to put on the 
 visor with its four squares of glass. 
 
 The head-piece was screwed down on its frame. 
 How it weighed on her shoulders ! The heavy folds
 
 19 A FISHER GIRL OF FRANCE. 
 
 of the collar and sleeves prevented her from moving 
 her arms. Her feet can never lift those leaden 
 soles. 
 
 " Are you ready to descend ?" 
 
 Who was speaking to her? Elise has lost her in- 
 dividuality. She is nothing but an inert will, the 
 soul of a machine. Without stopping to think, she 
 finds herself on the ladder, drawn down by the heavy 
 weights. 
 
 Who holds up her feet? There is no longer any 
 weight in their soles. Something supports them. 
 When will she enter the water? She will know, by 
 its chill, when she touches it. No. She is under 
 the water. Through the largest light in her visor 
 she sees the waves about her. She is giddy. Who 
 whistled in her ears ? It sounded like the wind ! 
 
 " Open the valve of the head-piece." 
 
 No matter who it is who orders it, she obeys un- 
 consciously. Misery! What a fright she has! 
 There is a deafening rumble. Have the tubes burst, 
 and is the water coming in upon her? She cannot 
 think, her temples throb, there is a band about her 
 forehead. Her skin is burning, her whole face feels 
 pin-pricked ! There are noises and sharp whistles 
 in her ears ! She gasps and strangles. 
 
 " Do you want to come up? Shall you be able 
 to go to the bottom ? You are not a quarter of the 
 way yet." 
 
 What will she find at the end of this endless lad- 
 der? Elise no longer feels what she touches; nei- 
 ther the rounds of the ladder in her hands, nor the 
 head-piece on her shoulders.
 
 A FISHER GIRL OF FRANCE. 19* 
 
 "Do you not want to come back? Open the 
 valve of the head-piece. Have no fear of the noise. 
 It is only the air escaping." 
 
 She was careful to obey. She was conscious of 
 nothing, neither of him who spoke, nor of what, nor 
 how. But to hear another's voice was to be not alone, 
 and without that companionship would she have 
 had the boldness to go on into these glassy depths? 
 What a vivid light this was about her, and what 
 strange forms whisked suddenly by her! 
 
 She wished the voice would speak again. She 
 had neither body nor weight. She seemed to float 
 as a bird in air. There was nothing above her head, 
 nothing under her feet. She felt nothing except 
 shooting pains in her head. She kept on descend- 
 ing mechanically without knowing where it would 
 bring her, or that the descent would ever end. 
 
 " Open the valve ! " 
 
 At this command Elise woke suddenly from her 
 stupor. She felt the rounds of the ladder which she 
 held tightly. She was herself again. The pain in 
 her head ceased. 
 
 "Attention ! You are just reaching the bottom." 
 It seemed to her that she had come to a land of 
 sunlight. What dazzling gleams came through the 
 lights of her visor. She had to close her eyes. A 
 great lantern hung close to her, as powerful as that 
 of a light-house. The depths shone joyously. How 
 delighted she was after the night, the interminable 
 night, to see clearly again. She regained her con- 
 fidence when she found herself once more on her
 
 I9 2 A FISHER GIRL OF FRANCE. 
 
 feet, with her shadow; her own familiar shadow, on 
 which one depends as if it were something tangible. 
 
 How brightly the sand sparkled. The dead, \vhose 
 cold remains it keeps, ought to be charmed with 
 these bright gleams which presage their coming re- 
 turn to the light of day. Doubtless her father has 
 felt the soft warmth of its rays, and has started in 
 his wet prison. He is here, under these sands which 
 for three months have served him as a winding- 
 sheet, while he awaits his final burial. 
 
 But is it not impious to tramp about these sands 
 which cover the dead ? Is it not like walking over 
 graves? 
 
 On her knees, with joined hands, Elise, in a pious 
 revery, hears nothing ; not the distant rumblings 
 which re-echo from space to space in these limitless 
 depths, nor the voice which calls her: 
 
 44 Remount ! A storm is coming. The captain 
 gives you only five minutes. We are going to sail." 
 
 She hears nothing, for she is praying. All her 
 thoughts are with him whom she hopes soon to 
 find. 
 
 " Father, if I have not looked for you earlier, it is 
 not because I have failed in respect or loving mem- 
 ories. I remember, when a little thing on your 
 knees, your laughing talk and speaking eyes. I 
 have not forgotten them ; nor how you taught 
 Firmin and me, in your boat. You had an angry 
 voice, but a warm heart." 
 
 " Are you not coming back, then ? The captain 
 will not wait." 
 
 " Father, when you left us, I kept your memory in
 
 " FATHER, IF YOU WILL HELP, I WILL FIND YOU." 
 
 Chap. 21.
 
 A FISHER GIRL OF FRANCE. 193 
 
 my heart ; since you have come back to me in 
 visions, I have suffered with you." 
 
 " Make haste. We are taking up the anchor. 
 The captain is just the man to go without you." 
 " Father, if you will help, I will find you- 
 Is it the force of the current which lifts her? She 
 clings to the sand, digs her soles into it, clutches it 
 with her hands. It is night again. The lantern has 
 disappeared. Without a light how can she see to 
 dig the sands, how be courageous enough to wait in 
 this darkness in the midst of the frightful noise of 
 the waves ? 
 
 She cannot hear the voice now. She calls. She 
 is alone in this abyss of water. Yet ought she to 
 leave her father, to tear herself away at the moment 
 when she is about to find him ? Where is the lad- 
 der? She tries to seize it, her hands clutch only the 
 void. What agitations stirthis under ocean ! Every- 
 thing is whirling in these infernal depths. The 
 surges break on the sand with terrible crashings, they 
 tear it up, dig into it, and toss it about pitilessly. 
 Poor father ! 
 
 Elise is overturned. Rolled head over heels, 
 stricken by this great upheaval, she loses conscious- 
 ness, while the wild eddies spin her around and 
 around. 
 
 The launch had been made fast on the deck of the 
 steamer, which was running at full speed. Elise was 
 not yet freed from the diver's dress. She had a rush 
 of blood to the head which stupefied, blinded, and
 
 194 A FISHER GIRL OF FRANCE. 
 
 deafened her, when the visor was removed and she 
 breathed the fresh air. When at last she came to 
 herself she saw Silvere and Chretien bending anx- 
 iously over her, while the lieutenant was saying : 
 
 " What were you thinking of to stay below in the 
 face of such a storm ? Were you trying to play at 
 obstinacy with the captain ? He had given the order 
 to cut the cord and tubes. Fortunately for you, the 
 safety rope was strong."
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 NEVER had such a following sea driven a boat as 
 that which, in less than a quarter of an hour, was 
 hurrying the steamer to Treport. It was a real 
 gale from the north. 
 
 The sea was in the wildest commotion, the waves 
 leaping, plunging, and breaking madly upon one 
 another. Entering the channel of Saint-Valery 
 was not to be thought of. In heavy weather the 
 Bay of Somme is impracticable. They had, there- 
 fore, laid their course direct to Treport. 
 
 They left behind them, as they flew on, many 
 small craft which could hardly hope to outlive the 
 gale. All those who had followed the steamer to 
 the Vergoyer had fled, like sea-gulls before a storm, 
 at the first sign of danger from the north. Were 
 they all safely in port that night ? 
 
 Built for rough weather, the steamer, in spite of 
 the tempest, soon reached the quay at Treport. 
 The moment they landed Elise, Silvere, Chretien, 
 and Mother Loirat hurried to the point at the foot 
 of the light-house, to watch other boats enter. But 
 not one was to be seen on the horizon. Captains 
 choose to run before the wind, rather than to risk 
 going ashore and breaking up. A boat cannot 
 avoid a bar or a point as she would, and even if she 
 enters the harbor she has still the piers to fear. 
 
 195
 
 I9 6 A FISHER GIRL OF FRANCE. 
 
 She can dash herself to pieces on these as easily as 
 a dish on a tavern floor. 
 
 But in the north-east, there was a rag of sail 
 lashed by the mad winds. They could see it for an 
 instant, then it would disappear. Just as they had 
 made up their minds that it must have gone down, 
 it would reappear. Elise watched it with greater 
 uneasiness than the others, for she herself, in a 
 storm as wild as this, had realized how strong the 
 sea is and how weak a boat. 
 
 " Silvere, a seaman's is a risky trade. But how 
 the sea speaks to the soul. It is more beautiful 
 than ev^r when it is so angry. I am more afraid of 
 it here than if I were righting it. One fears less 
 for those exposed to it, if one is working with 
 them." 
 
 A sailor interrupted her. He had orders to 
 bring Elise to the steamer, where the officials were 
 waiting to see her. 
 
 Never had she had such a joyful surprise. As he 
 had promised Florimond, the under-commissaire of 
 Treport had made all enquiries possible about 
 Firmin. Finding his colleague from Saint-Valery 
 on board the steamer, he had communicated to him 
 the results which he had just learned. 
 
 Firmin had been met drifting in the flambarfs 
 boat, nearly dying. He had been two days with- 
 out food. It was a government cruiser that had 
 picked him up. For ten days he had been in the 
 delirium of fever, but with good care he had got 
 well again, and was now no longer a ship's boy, but 
 as hardy as an able seaman.
 
 A FISHER GIRI. OF FRANCE. 197 
 
 He lived in the top, running along the yards as 
 another man would walk the deck. He was always 
 the first in places of danger, in furling the sails or 
 taking a reef, always on the lookout to be first to 
 answer the boatswain's whistle. The letter which 
 carried the news of his safety gave these details of 
 his good conduct aboard. 
 
 Firmin had at last realized his ambition. With 
 the innocence of a child he had always believed 
 that everybody must be rich on one of these great 
 ships, which he had sometimes seen when at sea 
 with their shining decks and their well-polished 
 brasses. He had promised himself to some day try 
 his fortune. Elise should not have to work long 
 for him. He would engage on one of these big 
 ships, where he would become a real sailor, and have 
 a coat with gold buttons for holidays. So that 
 fortune, in putting him on the corvette, served his 
 turn exactly. 
 
 Elise recognized Firmin in all that the commis- 
 saire said. He was always so ready, so anxious for 
 rough experiences and fresh opportunities. 
 
 " Where is he, sir? Can I go to him? Silvere 
 will go with me." 
 
 But Firmin was far away. The news had come 
 from Iceland. The corvette had anchored for some 
 weeks in the roadstead of Reikjavik, and had sent 
 her despatches by some vessel leaving for Europe. 
 
 Iceland ! That island without trees and roads, 
 where the fogs are as thick in the valleys as lakes ; 
 where the horses have to brush aside the snow to 
 get at the grass; where the people live like the
 
 I9 8 A FISHER GIRL OF FRANCE. 
 
 dead, in houses dug in the ground. Her father had 
 visited Iceland in old times, when he was in the 
 navy. He had accompanied one of the officers far 
 inland to see the snow-clad mountains, which vomit 
 fire and sulphur. He had nearly lost his life, but 
 Elise was not anxious, for all that. Firmin was 
 better at facing dangers than her father. She had 
 no fears for him on that score. 
 
 From Iceland, where she had gone to look after 
 the cod-fishers, the corvette was to return to the 
 Scotch seas to protect the herring fishers. She 
 would not, therefore, return home before the end of 
 the autumn campaign, in the first days of Decem- 
 ber. 
 
 "Then I will go to meet him," said Elise. "I 
 have no right to be unhappy, since the lad has 
 found the place he likes. He will make a fine 
 sailor." 
 
 She seemed so sweet and gentle that the com- 
 missaire was quite won over. He promised to find 
 the place where the steamer would make her head- 
 quarters, and to help Elise in all possible ways. 
 
 " Thanks, sir. You are very kind. The boy is 
 high-spirited, he is worth helping." 
 
 Yes, soon she would have her Firmin in her arms, 
 pressed to her heart as of old. She would see him 
 again, only handsomer and stronger. To go to him 
 she would engage herself with Silvere on big Poi- 
 devin's boat. She would ask no wages but her food. 
 Why should he not take her, for she was strong and 
 had no longer the reputation of bringing bad luck. 
 But some one was calling her.
 
 A FISHER GIRL OF FRANCE. 1 99 
 
 From the pier Chretien was shouting at the top 
 of his voice : 
 
 " Ma'mselle Elise, Ma'mselle Elise ! The little 
 sail is coming in. She is a lugger from Cayeux. 
 She has the bodies of my three brothers. Mother 
 Loirat has fainted from terror ! " 
 
 And overcome with excitement, he kept on re- 
 peating, as he caught his breath : " Ma'mselle Elise, 
 Ma'mselle Elise! " 
 
 " I am coming, Chretien. Give me a moment to 
 tell the commissaire." 
 
 Then turning toward Silvere, Elise took his arm. 
 
 " Come with me. My courage never fails when I 
 am near you." 
 
 The lugger was anchored in the harbor, her bow 
 standing out of the water, her taffrail nearly on a 
 level with it. When they had all reached her, the 
 two commissaires, Elise, Chretien, Silvere, and 
 others, besides a number of little boats at the 
 lugger's stern, set to work to lift something lashed 
 there which hung deep in the water. 
 
 Ho! hiss! It is heavy. Have a care. The 
 boats will be dragged under. Halt ! Three pairs 
 of great boots come to the surface. 
 
 " Mother Loirat, they are your sons. You must 
 calm yourself and stand, out of respect to them." 
 
 On her knees beside the old woman, Elise cried to 
 her: 
 
 " Are you not happy ? Your sons' troubles are 
 over forever." 
 
 The old woman opened her eyes at last, at the
 
 200 A FISHER GIRL OF FRANCE. 
 
 moment when the bodies of her three sons were 
 laid on the pier. Death had not dared to separate 
 them. They were together, and in that last em- 
 brace in which they had entered into the darkness 
 of the abyss. A sail, which chance had wrapped 
 about them, had protected them and served as a 
 winding-sheet, the true winding-sheet of a sailor. 
 The furious waves had respected their last embrace. 
 They had been found by the lugger in the very 
 height of the storm, and she had made fast to them. 
 Running before the wind at random, not knowing 
 whether to take the open sea or try for port, she had 
 come upon this melancholy wreckage, which seemed 
 to her crew like a presage of their own death. 
 They had tried to avoid it, not wishing to embarrass 
 themselves with a dead weight, but it would not 
 be left. It followed after in her wake, it pursued 
 her, and through superstitious fears they had de- 
 cided to make it fast. It had thus been towed in 
 spite of the storm, and it was this which had saved 
 them. For it had borne the brunt of the waves, and 
 had made smoother seas about them, by acting as a 
 breakwater. Like a rudder it had kept the boat to 
 the wind, and, thanks to it, she had made port, 
 while many of her fellows would never enter it 
 again. 
 
 The three brothers were laid on the quay. Their 
 faces were calm and unchanged. 
 
 " My poor lads ! my sons ! " 
 
 And the old woman fainted again in the arms of 
 Elise. 
 
 " Listen, dear Mother Loirat. Rouse yourself.
 
 A FISHER GIRL OF FRANCE. 20 1 
 
 Your sons are at rest. My father will find rest as 
 well. The time of his return has come. He will 
 have his money in his pocket you know the pocket 
 of his woollen jersey in his sealskin purse. He was 
 so proud when he brought it home full. It made 
 a great lump on his chest, just over his heart. He 
 will come back rich, good Mother Loirat, and I will 
 give you all the money. You shall have no more 
 trouble." 
 
 The old woman did not hear her. She did not 
 recover consciousness until night, in a bed in the 
 tavern, with Elise and Chretien on either side of her. 
 Silvere was on guard beside the three bodies, in a 
 shed belonging to the coast guard, waiting the end 
 of the official formalities. He passed the last hours 
 of the day and all night in this mournful watch, 
 where, to distract his gloomy thoughts, he had the 
 whistling of the wind and the angry roaring of the 
 sea. At last, when the first gleams of dawn came, 
 the storm passed away. 
 
 It passed, but it had been so violent, and had 
 so torn up the sands, that it had thrown ashore the 
 bodies of all who lay in the lost sailors' gulf. 
 
 Henin was found as if asleep in his boat, which 
 seemed as if it remembered the way home. The 
 sea gave him back as it had taken him, stretched in 
 his berth, his lips smiling, his eyes closed. Around 
 him in the forecastle, under the watery covering 
 which had protected them from the teeth of time, 
 slept his companions, whom death had surprised in 
 sleep.
 
 202 A FISHER GIRI. OF FRANCE. 
 
 The boat was as uninjured as they whom it had 
 protected. And when the gale from the north set 
 her free, she was ready to take up work as boldly as 
 ever. 
 
 Thrown up from the sands, and driven forward 
 by the waves, she had been caught in the current 
 of the bay, and, pushed on by blow after blow, had 
 gone ashore at almost the spot on the beach where, 
 some days before, Elise had tried to die, invoking 
 her father's memory. The father had come in 
 answer to his daughter's call. 
 
 She was not there to receive him, but Barbet, 
 whom his mistress had left in the village, wandering 
 along the dunes, welcomed with joyous cries the 
 return of the old man, who brought back with him 
 the peace and happiness of his daughter. 
 
 All came ashore one after the other : friend 
 Joseph, and Amde, and many others who had 
 gone so long that they had been forgotten. They 
 were found all along the coast between Calais and 
 Fecamp. 
 
 This gale has never been forgotten. In all the 
 country around it is known as " The Martyrs' 
 Storm." 
 
 Three days passed The storm had cleared away 
 entirely. The wind was steady in the north-east, be- 
 tokening settled weather. The sea reflected the 
 tender blue of the sky, and all the bay was bright 
 with changing hues, while across it stood out the 
 sombre mass of Saint-Valery. Above the dunes, in 
 soft lines, a few white clouds raced along, the last
 
 A FISHER GIRL OF FRANCE. 203 
 
 of their kind; as if to show that the heavens were 
 being swept clean by the winds. 
 
 Nothing could equal the brightness of this Au- 
 gust morning. On the road that climbed the dune, 
 a green triumphal arch was raised, for the village was 
 celebrating the liberation of her children. 
 
 All the dead whom the sea had given up were 
 laid together in the little low room of the mairie. 
 Twenty-three ! Brought together again, some by 
 boats, others in carts, according to where they had 
 been found. 
 
 Twenty-three ! Not one was missing at the roll- 
 call, and they had had to wait for the last the lame 
 man, who, being the lightest, had been carried fur- 
 thest by the waves. 
 
 In the memory of the old men there had never 
 been so joyful a holiday in the village. The mairie 
 was adorned with flags and garlands of flowers, 
 while the houses were dressed in white stuff, and 
 with bouquets. Here and there beacons, adorned 
 with branches, marked the route of the proces- 
 sion. 
 
 Twenty-three coffins. All the strong men of the 
 place were needed to carry them. With its white 
 drapings and crowns of radiant flowers, one might 
 have truly called it a triumphal procession. The 
 first place was given to Hnin, who was wrapped in 
 a flag. Two lines of young girls, in long white veils, 
 with baskets on their arms, scattered roses in the 
 way. 
 
 EHse and Barbet walked first, in advance of the 
 mayor. Preceding by a few steps the long proces-
 
 204 A FISHER GIRL OF FRANCE. 
 
 sion of villagers, they seemed as if guiding this 
 happy band of mourners. 
 
 The great gate of the cemetery, with a cross 
 raised on either side, stood open to receive them, 
 and when the August sun, high overhead, marked 
 midday, the hour of rest, the twenty-three were laid 
 to sleep in consecrated ground. 
 
 That night, as she entered her cabin with Barbet, 
 Elise had no fears of seeing her father's ghost. 
 Surely he was at peace, lying beside her mother in 
 the corner of the graveyard. A new cross was over 
 him, with a beautiful inscription, in letters carefully 
 cut out and painted. 
 
 " Father, are you at peace at last ? Come and tell 
 me. I wish to wipe out of my memory your worn 
 features and reproachful looks. I wish to see again 
 your sweet and loving face." 
 
 But her father did not appear. Nothing now 
 troubled his peaceful rest. Barbet understood it. 
 He placed his paws on Elise's knees, and looked 
 into her eyes, trying to say : 
 
 " Friend, do not awake sleeping spirits. The time 
 has come to take up your life again, to go to those 
 who need you, to summon those of whom you have 
 need." 
 
 Barbet was right. Elise was no longer alone in 
 the world. The happy hour was at hand when she 
 would take her brother in her arms, the hour when 
 she would give herself to her betrothed.
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 FATHER HENIN had come back to earth with 
 money in his pocket. His round purse was really 
 like a great ball in the pocket of his jersey, just over 
 the place where his heart once beat so warmly. 
 After a slight refitting his boat was ready for use. 
 
 Elise had no thought of keeping all these riches 
 for herself. Was it necessary for her to be so care- 
 ful, now that she was to be married ? She wished 
 to lay away Firmin's share simply, and to use the 
 rest in making the last days of Mother Loirat more 
 happy. The poor old woman was still ill ; her ex- 
 hausted forces would, perhaps, never recover from 
 this last blow they had received. Money is most 
 necessary in such cases. 
 
 Unfortunately, the authorities had seized every- 
 thing, with a view of protecting the rights of the 
 heirs, so that Elise's plans were interfered with be- 
 fore she was able to carry them out. 
 
 Since the return of Silvere she had been very 
 happy. She accepted help from her lover as if he 
 were already her husband. When two people de- 
 termine to marry, ought they not to share good and 
 bad alike ? Their wedding could not take place 
 until after the end of the autumn cruise, because big 
 Poidevin would not allow his men an hour more 
 than he had promised, and the sailing of the Jeune-
 
 206 A FISHER GIRL OF FRANCE. 
 
 Adolphine was announced for the night before the 
 full moon, three days away. 
 
 At first Silvere had wanted to break his engage- 
 ment with Poidevin, and remain at home until he 
 could marry Elise. After that he would take the 
 first boat for the Scotch seas and join Firmin. But 
 Silvere was an excellent sailor, a hard worker, silent, 
 sober, and prudent, and his captain had refused to 
 release him. 
 
 " I cannot bear the idea of leaving you alone, 
 Elise. You will go to live with Mother Pilote ? " 
 
 " No, Silvere. You know that while I have 
 accepted help from you as if you were my husband, 
 I should not be willing to accept it from another. 
 Mother Pilote would despise me if I were to ask her 
 to support me. I am not afraid of work. I would 
 rather sail with you. Big Poidevin would take me, 
 I am sure." 
 
 Since the time when she had led the funeral 
 cortege in advance of the mayor, Elise was held in 
 high respect in the village. Not only had they 
 forgotten, as she herself had forgotten, the insults 
 with which they had pursued her, but they now 
 praised her as if she were the cause of all the bodies 
 having come ashore. She had worked hard, and, if 
 they adjudged her that honor, might she not fairly 
 accept it ? Nevertheless, she accepted only a small 
 part of the praise they gave her. Her one desire 
 was to make an engagement with Poidevin. 
 
 Without further delay she dragged Silvere to the 
 wharf, near which she was sure to meet the big 
 captain. Ordinarily he was loafing on the pier, or
 
 A FISHER GIRL OF FRANCE. 207 
 
 more likely was sitting in the sailors' tavern. They 
 looked for him first at the waterside. Two coast 
 guards set them on his track. 
 
 " Poidevin ? You need never look for him near 
 water, his nose is always over the grog." .. 
 
 He was drinking, as they soon found. As they 
 entered the tavern door, Elise shivered. She re- 
 called the scenes that had taken place there so little 
 time before ; the hatred of Florimond and his 
 sailors ; and Barnabe, buried only the night before 
 among the twenty-three martyrs. 
 
 Barnabe, more vicious through his vanity than 
 from real wickedness. Elise thought often of him, 
 the latest victim of the Vergoyer. Fortunately he 
 had left no family, and his death affected no one in 
 the village. Elise was, perhaps, the only one who 
 had not forgotten him. 
 
 It took Poidevin a long time to make up his 
 mind five rounds of grog, and an hour's talk, and 
 nothing definite yet. 
 
 " Have another drink, to wind up with, Poidevin. 
 Lise will stand treat." 
 
 "Thanks, Silvere," said Elise. "You know that 
 I am no hand at drinking." 
 
 " Well then, for a joke, if the girl will drink I will 
 engage her." 
 
 "Your word is good, Poidevin. Lise will drink 
 willingly." 
 
 She drank in all frankness, and when she had 
 given an account of herself he kept his word. The)'' 
 signed engagements over three fresh cups of liquor, 
 on the greasy table in the smoky room. As she
 
 208 4 FISHER GIRL OF FRANCE. 
 
 wrote her name at the bottom of the paper, she felt 
 the pen run lightly. She was sure of the future, 
 for everything in the past had gone as she wished. 
 
 As she thought of her approaching departure, 
 which should bring her nearer Firmin, she let her 
 eyes wander through the open door toward the 
 boats anchored in the harbor. 
 
 She was so surprised on seeing before her the 
 little hunchback, that she sat perfectly still. He 
 stopped short in the doorway. His bony face was 
 paler and longer, and more weak and sad than she 
 had ever seen it. He did not enter, but made a sign 
 to Elise to come to him. He felt that he could tell 
 more easily out of doors what he had to say. 
 
 He had been discharged from the Bureau, as 
 shortly as if he had been unfaithful. Immediately 
 on his return his chief had summoned him } had re- 
 called the grotesque spectacle he had made in full 
 view of all on the quay of Saint- Valery, and em- 
 phasizing the discredit which this cast on the 
 Bureau, had concluded in such a fashion that the 
 clerk had remembered the words exactly. 
 
 " I am sorry on account of your family, sir, but I 
 am obliged to discharge you. I should be weak if 
 I were to overlook your offence. Go." 
 
 As he repeated the words which struck her ear so 
 dolorously, the little hunchback raised his dimmed 
 and mournful eyes to Elise. Under his glance, the 
 unspeakably sad glance of a sick man, she started, 
 and her breast swelled with pity. 
 
 " Poor M. Emile. What have you done ? " 
 
 What had he done? He had made his way
 
 A FISHER GIRL OF FRANCE. 209 
 
 through the streets of Saint- Valery to the outskirts 
 where he lived. He had tried not to show his trou- 
 ble, lest he should weep like a girl before all these 
 people who would be only too happy at his dis- 
 grace. 
 
 Then his family had snubbed him, and had made 
 him go the next day and offer apologies, which the 
 commissaire had refused. 
 
 Elise made up her mind promptly. She would go 
 at once and beg his forgiveness from the commis- 
 saire. After her recent success, she did not doubt 
 that a little courage and plenty of resolution were all 
 that was needed to make these mighty officials do 
 what was right. 
 
 She took with her Silvere and Barbet, crossed the 
 bay, and knocked resolutely at the door of the 
 bureau. The little hunchback, who had followed 
 her, step by step, pitifully, like a whipped dog, 
 stopped a little way off and hid himself beyond a 
 pile of joists. As she was about to go in Elise 
 looked for him, and, finding him after a little search, 
 scolded him gently. 
 
 " You must come, M. Emile. You will never gain 
 anything without courage. It is poor people's 
 money. You must come." 
 
 He went in, pushed by Elise rather than from any 
 will of his own. Hardly had he crossed the sill than 
 he dropped his head and disappeared behind her 
 skirts. He had seen, behind the heap of boxes at 
 his table, a shaggy-head overtopping a large body. 
 His place was filled. It was useless to do any- 
 thing.
 
 210 A FISHER GIRL OF FRANCE. 
 
 " We will go in since we are here, all the same," 
 said Elise. " It will cost nothing to try." 
 
 But she could not keep the little hunchback, who 
 glided to the door so quickly that she hardly had 
 time to put out her two arms to stop him. He 
 slipped through her hands and took to his heels, but, 
 quick as he was, she was up with him in no time. 
 
 "Come, M. Emile. I give you a chance. You 
 must show that you are worthy of it." 
 
 On seeing all four enter, the commissaire assumed 
 his dignity and his chair. He foresaw a vigorous 
 attack, and took the most available position to with- 
 stand it. He glanced at Barbet and the little hunch- 
 back contemptuously, paid no attention to Silvere, 
 and finished his scrutiny by addressing to Elise a 
 smile of interrogation. 
 
 She replied by an exact statement of facts. M. 
 Emile was not able to earn a living in any other 
 way, and his old parents needed his help ; places 
 were scarce at Saint-Valery he wished to come 
 back, he acknowledged his fault. 
 
 " Is it not so, M. Emile? You will be more cour- 
 teous to the sailors. He will give you back your 
 place, if you will promise to behave properly." 
 
 Without raising his eyes, which were fixed on the 
 ground, the little hunchback stammered out unin- 
 telligible excuses. 
 
 " It is useless," said the commissaire. " I have 
 arranged to fill your place." 
 
 Elise interposed quickly: 
 
 "Yes, we have seen the big, shaggy fellow. Men 
 of that size are not made for such light work as
 
 A FIShER GIRL OF FRANCE. 211 
 
 writing. They should take other places than those 
 fit for feeble folk." 
 
 The commissaire laughed. He began to under- 
 stand Elise. He forgot that he had thought her 
 crazed. v He found her instead clear-headed and de- 
 cided, and actuated by a feeling of generous fairness. 
 He felt the power of her strength, strong from its 
 very simplicity, and for fear of proving weak before 
 it, he tried to break off the interview abruptly. 
 
 " Do not urge me. I cannot send away a good 
 clerk to take back a bad one." 
 
 "That is not the point at issue at all, for the little 
 man promises to mend his ways. We do not wish 
 to take away his bread from the big fellow either. 
 We will find a place for him more in keeping with 
 his size." 
 
 " It is not possible. Leave me." 
 
 " No, we will not go until you promise. Silvere 
 wishes it as much as I, and Barbet, too." 
 
 Hearing his name pronounced, the dog wagged his 
 tail, and gave little barks of assent. 
 
 "At least turn the dog out. It is the first time 
 that any one has taken the liberty of bringing a dog 
 into my office." 
 
 " Barbet is much better than most people. Come, 
 Barbet, make a beautiful bow to the commissaire." 
 
 Barbet made his reverence as seriously as a danc- 
 ing-master, and acquitted himself of his task with 
 a complaisance so amusing that the chief broke out 
 laughing. 
 
 "Your beast is too absurd. Come, don't make 
 me lose any more time with him."
 
 212 A FISHER GIRL OF FRANCE. 
 
 " He knows also sailors' songs. Barbet, go aloft, 
 and sing the sailor-boy's farewell." 
 
 The dog, whom Elise had placed by a chair, put 
 his feet about its legs and pretended to hoist him- 
 self up, as if it were a rope and he a monkey. Then 
 sitting erect on the seat, he uttered a series of mod- 
 ulated barks, long or short, cheerful or melancholy, 
 always in rhythm. He nodded his head, opened and 
 closed his eyes, emphasized parts with good effect, 
 and mimicked the play of words with most laughable 
 contortions. 
 
 The chief laughed. The strangeness of this inter- 
 view put him off his guard. Disconcerted by the 
 na'ivett of these four intruders, who, without any 
 sense of Impropriety, had taken possession of his 
 office, he offered only a weak resistance. 
 
 "Your beast is absurd. Make an end of this 
 ridiculous exhibition." 
 
 " Barbet knows how to handle a boat. Attention, 
 Barbet." 
 
 " Thanks, but do not give him so much trouble for 
 nothing. I do not care for any more." 
 
 "Oh, he loves to be admired. Come, Barbet, to 
 the helm starboard to the wind." 
 
 Like a performer before some high personage, 
 Barbet showed all his accomplishments, especially 
 the drill, which he executed promptly in the most 
 approved fashion, with a ruler for a musket; a ruler 
 which Elise had boldly borrowed from the commis- 
 saire's table. He was not happy when he had to 
 show a visit of inspection, for he had not his chev- 
 rons and lace, and this infraction of rules did not
 
 HE UTTERED A SERIES OF MODULATED BARKS, LONG OR SHORT 
 
 Chap. 23.
 
 A FISHER GIRL Uf FRANCE. 213 
 
 seem proper to him. But he made it up to them 
 by other tricks no less surprising, recognizing boats 
 and taking children to school, and finally, on a sign 
 from Elise, by dragging himself to the commissaire's 
 feet as if asking the offender's pardon. 
 
 " We will see. It is impossible in my office, I 
 have filled his place ; but I will find him another 
 situation." 
 
 " No, we want M. Emile to be with you. Your 
 big, shaggy man can be a sailor. That is better than 
 writing. Come, ask again, Barbet." 
 
 " Go. Leave me. I will give him the place. 
 This fashion of begging is intolerable." 
 
 " Then you will keep him in your office ! I 
 promised him he should be there, and I do not want 
 you to make me tell a falsehood." 
 
 " Yes, yes. Go away w.ith your dog." 
 " But we must thank you first. Salute, Barbet. 
 And you, too, M. Emile, you must kiss his hand." 
 
 And pushing the dog and the hunchback toward 
 the commissaire, Elise urged them to profuse 
 thanks. And behind them, she said in her turn : 
 
 "I thank you for M. Emile. I was the cause of 
 his losing his place, and it was right that I should 
 secure his reinstallment. Silvere, offer your hand." 
 " Enough ! Enough ! Leave me. If you do 
 not all go at once, I shall have to take back my 
 word. But it is all right. Have you finished at 
 last? Adieu." 
 
 All four went out, Barbet dignified, the hunch- 
 back joyful, Elise happ)f, and Silvere astounded at 
 her energy.
 
 2I 4 A FISHER GIRL OF FRANCE. 
 
 " You work harder than a man." 
 
 "Was it I who did it? No, it was Barbet, who 
 gained the commissaire's ear by his pleasant ways." 
 
 It was not Barbet. What had gained the com- 
 missaire's ear was the voice of pity; that same voice 
 which, in the first place, had made him engage a 
 man who was sickly, and, as Elise had said, unable 
 to earn a living in any other way. Hunchbacks 
 are doomed from birth to be either shopmen or 
 clerks. 
 
 By his abrupt dismissal, his chief had meant 
 simply to teach his impertinent clerk a lesson. He 
 foresaw the usual attempts at reinstatement, and 
 knew that the solicitations of the culprit himself, 
 and his relatives and friends, would give an excuse 
 to reinstate him. The big fellow, whom he had in- 
 stalled in the office experimentally, was for no 
 other purpose than to make M. Emile think his dis- 
 missal final. 
 
 The commissaire had proposed to make his pun- 
 ishment longer, that it might produce a more last- 
 ing effect. He had meant it to extend over some 
 weeks, if not months. He had yielded to the en- 
 treaties of Elise, in the belief that it would be a 
 fresh humiliation for M. Emile to owe his pardon 
 to simple sailors. 
 
 Besides, Elise and her dog, by their bold frank- 
 ness, had touched him, and, when he shut the door 
 behind his four visitors, he was no less happy than 
 he supposed they were. 
 
 Hardly were they outside when the hunchback 
 went to Elise. Great tears of joy ran down his
 
 A FISHER GIRL OF FRANCE. 215 
 
 face, and stopped hesitatingly on his knotted cheek- 
 bones. 
 
 " I have only one more favor to ask of you, 
 mademoiselle. Let me embrace you." 
 
 " It was not I. It was Barbet," she cried, stepping 
 back. 
 
 " No, it was you whom the chief wished to please 
 because you are so lovely. It would please me so 
 much to thank you." 
 
 " You must embrace Barbet, too." 
 
 Then, moved by compassion, she leaned forward 
 and presented him graciously her two cheeks. The 
 little hunchback raised himself on tiptoe and 
 pressed his pale lips, burning with fever, to them. 
 Then, seizing the dog in his turn, he smothered him 
 with caresses. 
 
 On the Place of Saint- Valery the scattered sailors, 
 who saw him weeping and embracing in this singu- 
 lar fashion, burst into hearty guffaws. It was the 
 only revenge they had.
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 IT was the third Sunday in August when Elise, 
 confident in a happy future and certain that this 
 time she would have good luck, embarked on the 
 Jeune-Adolphine. She had said farewell to Mother 
 Pilote, whom she left quite disconsolate, and who 
 had wished to soften her solitude by keeping Bar- 
 bet. But how could Barbet live away from Elise? 
 He, too, was going to sea. 
 
 It was the beginning of the autumn fishing. 
 They sought the herring now, not to the north of 
 Scotland, but in the North Sea near the extreme 
 limits of England. Doubtless the corvette which 
 had rescued Firmin would be stationed at Edinburgh 
 or Berwick. Elise counted on finding some way to 
 meet him. In the North Sea the fishing-grounds 
 are more contracted than in the ocean, the boats 
 are nearer together and communicate more easily. 
 It would be very strange if they did not meet either 
 the corvette herself, or at least one of the coasters 
 who run between the fishers and the nearest Eng- 
 lish port. 
 
 Thanks to Silvere, Elise owned a share in the 
 nets. He had not been willing that she should be 
 at a disadvantage on account of her poverty, and 
 had persuaded her to accept a new outfit. 
 
 216
 
 A FISHER GIRL OF FRANCE. 217 
 
 And the third day after the new moon, these nets 
 dropped into the water for the first time. 
 
 The Jeune-Adolphine had reached the fishing- 
 grounds at noon only, but the breeze and the 
 weather were so favorable that they spread the nets 
 without delay. 
 
 Twilight, with its serene harmony, fell on the sea. 
 When all the nets had been set and the boat, towed 
 by them, drifted idly in the current, Elise, fasci- 
 nated by the beauty of the night, could not make 
 up her mind to sleep. 
 
 Stretched on the gunwale beside Silvere, she 
 watched the golden lights on the changing sea, 
 which seemed in harmony with her thoughts. 
 
 "Silvere, I think that we love each other more 
 tenderly when we are together in such tranquil 
 scenes. Where away is England?" 
 
 For a long time she was silent, looking in the 
 direction where Silvere had pointed. 
 
 "There is where Firmin is. He was too ambi- 
 tious to be a simple coast sailor like us. Do not be 
 hurt that I think of him. I am so happy to know 
 that you love me." 
 
 He said nothing, this big Silvere, so much afraid 
 was he of startling the tender murmur which just 
 reached his ears. He overtopped Elise by a full 
 head, and, bent down toward her, he watched her 
 with delight, so full of life and so beautiful did she 
 seem under this soft light. 
 
 "Be sure, Elise, that I am not jealous of Firmin. 
 We will both love him, as we both love Mother 
 Pilote. You are not envious of her because I love
 
 218 A FISHER GIRL OF FRANCE. 
 
 her. I love you both, but not with the same 
 warmth. It must be right, because it is human 
 nature." 
 
 During two hours of drifting they talked to- 
 gether, hearing only their own voice and heedless of 
 the songs that came through the half-open hatch. 
 
 Big Poidevin was drunk. Two hours of his cabin 
 was equivalent with him to a dozen drinks, just 
 enough to fill him full. But though his brain might 
 be drowsy his eye was wide open, and when the 
 moment came to take up the nets he was the first 
 on deck, summoning all the men to work. 
 
 "Hollo! Beetle heads! Strike up work. 
 
 Big Poidevin, an old quartermaster, carried his 
 liquor as no other veteran aboard. 
 
 When he was full he was as steady as if he was 
 anchored with four cables. He was the most solid 
 drinker on the coast. It was his pride, after a dozen 
 drinks, to keep his balance as steady as if he had 
 dined on the empty wind. 
 
 As to the rest, he was a good liver and a pleasant 
 companion. He had no family, and took his pleas- 
 ures only in his bottle and glass. He had a horror 
 of the shore, where, as he said, he did not love to lie 
 like a boat aground. 
 
 "Hollo! lads! When the capstan snores, the 
 sailor wakes." 
 
 The capstan did not snore yet, but it was evident 
 that he meant to set it at work. 
 
 " Hollo ! lads ! Wind from the north-east with the 
 moon. We will take up fish by the binful. Hollo! 
 All on deck,"
 
 A FISHER GIRL OF FRANCE. 219 
 
 At the captain's call, Elise came with Silvere. 
 They were not of opinion that it was wise to take 
 up the nets yet. As they had talked, they had now 
 and then cast an eye on the line of floats, and had 
 noticed that they had not settled, as was the case 
 under a catch of fish. The nets were, without 
 doubt, empty. 
 
 Their advice was sound. After a long discussion 
 Poidevin agreed to follow it, and disappeared down 
 the forecastle ladder. He was going back for an- 
 other hour to his mug and flask. 
 
 "Let us go and sleep like the others, Lise. You 
 will be ill if you neglect your sleep." 
 
 "No, not to-night, Silvere. It is too delicious. 
 It goes to one's very heart. I love to watch the 
 sea, now that it has given back my father." 
 
 "Lise, dreams are not food. A good sailor, to 
 keep strong, must eat and sleep. Fishing is hard 
 enough when one gets one's rest." 
 
 "Silvere, look there. The sea seems to be on 
 fire. Is it not flashing? What say you?" 
 
 Yes, it was the flash of the herring which, like a 
 trail of phosphorus, drew near them rapidly. The 
 wave seemed on fire, so filled was it with iridescent 
 lights ; sapphire blue, emerald green, red gold, shad- 
 ing off into silvery gleams. It was as if a pageant 
 beneath the water was advancing, with a bewilder- 
 ment of gleaming metal and precious gems. It was 
 impossible to look at it. The moon, ordinarily so 
 white, seemed, in comparison, of a dirty gray. It 
 looked so dejected that Elise threw it a glance of 
 pity.
 
 220 A FISHER GIRL OF FRANCE. 
 
 "Is it possible that this light in the sea can snuff 
 out the moon, as she snuffs out the stars? Silvere, 
 what makes the herring gleam so? They burn the 
 eyes." 
 
 She buried her face in his shoulder. He, laugh- 
 ing, held her dear head with his great hand, which 
 he tried to make soft for the task. 
 
 "Look, Lise. They are going to rush intp our 
 net. Look, it will be like fireworks." 
 
 As rapidly as a lake of fire which has burst its 
 bounds, the school of herring advanced, grazing the 
 surface of the water, every back and fin scintillating 
 with light, and lighting up the night with their 
 blinding gleams. 
 
 "Quick, Lise, they are here." 
 
 There was a splash of fire like burning coals; an 
 electric snapping through the whole mass, as if a 
 stream, arrested by a wall, had dashed back on itself 
 in foaming fury. All the nets came to the surface 
 along their length to the very end, in a gleaming 
 tremor. And the school of herring, dispersing 
 abruptly, disappeared behind the boat, like the last 
 rays of an expiring fire. 
 
 After the light had passed, and their eyes, accus- 
 tomed again to the twilight, could distinguish ob- 
 jects, they saw that the nets were dragged down 
 under the weight of their strangling, struggling 
 victims. 
 
 "Captain, it is time to haul in. The floats are 
 sunk." 
 
 Big Poidevin had had an hour too much. Con- 
 trary to his habit, he scuffled along and staggered.
 
 A FISHER GIRL OF FRANCE. 221 
 
 When he tried to mount to the deck, he missed the 
 rounds of the ladder and fell heavily on the plank- 
 ing. 
 
 "This is no time to lose control, captain; the fish 
 can be taken by armfuls." 
 
 The captain rose to his feet, furious at losing his 
 reputation as a hard-headed drinker. He bent all 
 his energies to gaining the deck without further 
 weakness, and, the ladder mounted, he called all the 
 men with a triumphant shout. 
 
 With pantings and groanings from the capstan, 
 and shouts from the sailors, the work began. As 
 soon as taken aboard the nets were shaken over the 
 hatches, into which the fish fell in a phosphorescent 
 rain. Salt was thrown in with them, and when the 
 hatches were filled to the very top all hands were 
 ready for a chowder. They had caught thousands. 
 
 It was the next day at noon only that the work 
 was finished. In a single night more than half the 
 boat's bins were full, half of their catch was taken. 
 Six hundred measures. It was wonderful. 
 
 They spread their nets again the next night and 
 the nights after that. While the fishing is good no 
 one minds hard work and each day brings variety. 
 
 They caught after that, according to the weather, 
 from two hundred measures at most, down to fifty 
 and even twenty-five. 
 
 The chance to meet a school at the right moment 
 does not come twice.
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 AT daybreak of the twenty-first day the boat was 
 still fishing. Like the herring, she had moved 
 southward insensibly, but without leaving the neigh- 
 borhood of Scotland. At every hour of the day 
 Elise searched the horizon for the corvette and Fir- 
 min, but saw no trace of them. 
 
 Always bad luck. In twenty days they had not 
 only not seen the corvette, but not even a coaster 
 from some English port. They were so near one 
 another, they wished for one another so much, and 
 yet could not meet. 
 
 Well, she would force fortune to yield yet ; she 
 would discover the corvette if she put out her eyes 
 in trying to pierce the horizon. She passed all her 
 spare moments standing on the gunwale peering 
 into space, but it gave no answer to her heart's 
 desire. At first she had tried to watch at night, 
 too, but she simply used herself up uselessly, for 
 she could not distinguish between the lanterns, and 
 thought she recognized the corvette by the cut of 
 her sails, only to find out, after a long examination, 
 that in the half-light she had mistaken a small boat 
 for a large vessel. 
 
 Then she had given up night watching as useless, 
 but every morning, before the first rays of dawn 
 had pierced the shadows, she was on the deck
 
 A FISHER GIRL OF FRANCE. 223 
 
 and there she stayed until the last glimmer of 
 light. 
 
 She began to be desperate, because the boat was 
 slowly filling its bunks, and the end of the cruise 
 was near at hand. 
 
 She was on duty that morning at the helm, and 
 was tacking about waiting until it was time to cast 
 the nets. Silvere was below asleep, but Barbet 
 watched beside his mistress. Unhappy Barbet. 
 He did not like it on board at all, for it was his first 
 voyage. He had passed through a wretched novi- 
 tiate. Sick at heart, he lay stretched among the 
 piles of nets, groaning at each movement of the 
 boat, and hardly having strength to open his eyes 
 at Elise's voice. 
 
 For five days he had counted his shirts, as the 
 sailors mockingly say. Then he had become used 
 to it all, and after that Barbet feared the motion no 
 more than any old hand. At that moment he 
 raised his nose and ears and yelped, to advise Elise 
 that she was nearing something unusual. 
 
 She thought at first that he saw the corvette and 
 was announcing Firmin, but though she looked all 
 about, she could see nothing like the government 
 boat. 
 
 Until then they had come across trading steamers 
 only, and especially coal ships, heavy in their build, 
 and a solid mass of black. They are clumsy to 
 handle, have a small crew, and cannot easily change 
 their course. They go right on without regard to 
 other vessels, and small boats must look sharp and 
 keep out of their way. They do not mind a col-
 
 224 A FISHER GIRL OF FRANCE. 
 
 lision in the least, for they cannot be capsized. 
 They are afraid of one another only. 
 
 They can be seen in these seas in troops. Elise 
 kept a sharp lookout for them while she was at the 
 helm. She had told Barbet to announce them, 
 but it was not one of these which he was signalling 
 now. 
 
 "What is it then, Barbet. Is it those breakers 
 that we can just make out before us? They look 
 like a floating island." 
 
 The dog yelped louder. 
 
 "Don't be impatient. We will run down to 
 them. As well go there as elsewhere. Misery ! 
 They look like nets. You say, yes, Barbet? I 
 think that a boat must have been lost. Tell me, is 
 it one of ours? You are not telling the truth ! No ! 
 do not deceive me. It is not the Bon PecJieur I 
 should be too wretched if any harm came to Flori- 
 mond. Quick, Barbet, go and bring Silvere! " 
 
 The dog made one bound to the forecastle, and 
 returned at once, dragging by his trouser's leg big 
 Silvere, who was still half asleep. 
 
 "Tell the captain to order a boat, to go and see 
 what is floating there." 
 
 When the captain was asleep he did not like to bo 
 waked. The boat was in the water towing behind. 
 
 On his own responsibility Silvere dropped into it 
 with two men. They quickly reached the nets, 
 which were so snarled together that they seemed 
 like a heap of rocks. 
 
 Nets and floats drifted at the pleasure of the cur- 
 rent like a raft. The men climbed on them as
 
 A FISHER GIRL OF FRANCE. 225 
 
 securely as on a projecting reef. They walked 
 across them, digging and prodding with their boat 
 hooks. 
 
 "Not a man under them," cried Silvere to Elise. 
 
 He lifted one of the floats and read the marks 
 painted around its middle. 
 
 S. V. S. S. 1234. 
 
 Is it Florimond's number? Yes. Barbet was 
 right. Twelve hundred and thirty-four was the 
 number of the Bon-Pecheur. The four letters indi- 
 cated Saint-Valery-sur-Somme. There was no ques- 
 tion about it. 
 
 "Look further, Silvere. I am surprised, if his 
 sloop were uninjured, that my cousin should have 
 abandoned his nets. He would sooner have towed 
 them into some English port." 
 
 Fresh examination brought no other results. 
 The herring, fast here and there in the meshes and 
 quite fresh, showed that the accident had been 
 recent. 
 
 The three men searched a long time for the end 
 of the hawser to find out whether it was cut or torn. 
 If it were cut it was the work of thieves; if it were 
 torn it would show that there had been a collision. 
 But it was hidden away in the tangle of cordage 
 and rope, and they could not find it. 
 
 "Count the floats, Silvere. I should say at a 
 glance that they were all there." 
 
 Parblen ! There are a hundred at least here as 
 many over there thirty more there are so many 
 they cannot count them. 
 
 The whole outfit was there, adrift.
 
 226 A FISHER GIRL OF FRANCE. 
 
 "It is very perplexing, Silvere. I am of opinion 
 that the Bon-Pecheur is a bad risk." 
 
 While the three men were returning Elise con- 
 sulted Barbet. 
 
 "Barbet, can you tell me where Cousin Flori- 
 mond is?" 
 
 The dog, who was seated quietly on his hind 
 quarters, rose on his four feet. He placed himself 
 face to the wind, which came from the north-east, 
 and for a long time tried to scent something. But 
 he could not. He scowled, sniffed contemptuously, 
 and appeared dissatisfied with the weather and him- 
 self. He turned slowly a quarter or third of a circle, 
 trimming himself in the wind. 
 
 In the west he could perceive nothing. In the 
 north-west he thought he had a trace, his hair 
 bristled up as he barked loudly ; then he stopped dis- 
 couraged, and sat down again, shaking his big head 
 as if to say: "It is useless to try. In these half- 
 breezes of summer the air lies still, and the scent 
 does not travel at all." 
 
 "Come, Barbet, I never knew you to weary over 
 your work. You have not smelled in every direc- 
 tion." 
 
 The dog walked about idly. 
 
 "Barbet, I beg you. It is wicked not to do your 
 best to help others. I beg you." 
 
 He started again at the north-west, and scented 
 afresh without perceiving anything, and, simply to 
 please his mistress, turned slowly around like the 
 needle of a compass on its dial. No trace was to be 
 found in the west or south, and he sat down again.
 
 A FISHER GIRL OF FRANCE. 227 
 
 "Barbet, you are bad. You put no heart in your 
 work. If you cannot act honorably I will not have 
 you any longer for my shipmate." 
 
 Elise and Barbet were shipmates, that is, they 
 slept together. Sailors sleep two in a bunk, and the 
 number of bunks being limited she had great diffi- 
 culty in arranging that Barbet should share hers. 
 For him, it was the pleasantest moment of the 
 cruise. When the time came for sleep he let Elise 
 lie at the back, while he stretched himself, his head 
 on his paws, facing outward. 
 
 As long as there was any noise in the place he lay 
 thus, sleeping that half-sleep of dogs who know how 
 to watch with their eyes shut. But after each relief, 
 when those who had come down last were sleeping 
 in their turn, and he heard their heavy snores, then, 
 easy in his mind, he slipped up to Elise, laid his 
 head on her and gave himself up to pleasant dreams. 
 
 The rolling of the boat rocked him softly, and 
 Barbet abandoned himself to the joy of feeling 
 under his head the rise and fall of her warm breast. 
 
 For nothing in the world would he have risked so 
 delightful a place. At Elise's threat he sprang up, 
 ready for anything rather than lose his shipmate. 
 He began turning about again. 
 
 West-south-westnothing. South-west south- 
 south-west nothing. South-south a quarter east. 
 
 "Have you gone crazy, Barbet? You are upset- 
 ting me." 
 
 The dog pulled Elise by the leg. Seeing that she 
 did not understand he threw himself on the tiller, 
 as if to push it in the direction he wished.
 
 228 A FISHER GIRL OF FRANCE. 
 
 When she was steering as he wished, he ran for- 
 ward to the jib, and by leaps and snaps forced the 
 sailor on duty there to shift the sheet. 
 
 The boat tacked and ran south a quarter south- 
 east. 
 
 Then, proud as a commander on his deck, Barbet 
 with a leap settled himself on a cask not far from 
 Elise, and from there watched at the same time the 
 helm, the sails, and the hori-zon, to see that the 
 boat should not make leeway from the strength of 
 a current. 
 
 Elise had a fresh cause for anxiety. She had 
 been sent to the helm, and was responsible for car- 
 rying out the orders given her. 
 
 She had no right to deviate from them without 
 fresh directions from the captain. She called Sil- 
 vere: 
 
 "Wake up Poidevin. We have no right to change 
 our course unless he directs it." 
 
 Silvere hesitated. He knew what he would get 
 by disturbing Poidevin's sleep ; insults and a refusal, 
 nothing more. 
 
 "Very well, then I will awake him myself. Per- 
 haps he will be less disagreeable to a woman." 
 
 And confiding the boat to Silvere, Elise started 
 down the ladder. Barbet tried to follow her. 
 
 "No, stay behind, Barbet. You know that the 
 skipper does not like you since the day when you 
 upset his grog. One should not be clumsy if they 
 want to make friends."
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 ELISE was all in a tremble, and her heart beat fast 
 as she descended the ladder of the hatch and heard 
 the heavy breathing of the captain, who lay there 
 snoring. But her uneasiness at knowing that the 
 Bon-Pecheur was in distress, and the fear of bringing 
 help too late, decided her. 
 
 "Captain it is I I am sorry, but it is impor- 
 tant." 
 
 " Hen Heu " Big Poidevin turned over to sleep 
 on the other side. 
 
 " Captain, listen, it is important." 
 
 Elise had no reply. She put out her hand and 
 struck him lightly on his fat shoulder. 
 
 " Beetle head ! Don't touch me, or beware." 
 
 And the captain buried his head in the fold of his 
 arm with a growl that did not admit of further 
 urging. 
 
 Elise went back to the deck, called one of the sail- 
 ors to the helm, and taking Silvere by the arm led 
 him to the forecastle. 
 
 " I shall be bolder with you. I will hold your 
 hand so as to add your strength to mine. Come 
 Barbet, one cannot have too many friends to encour- 
 age one." 
 
 All three climbed down, Elise helped by her lover, 
 and happy this time, for she knew that she had the
 
 2 3 A Fl SHE R GIRL OF FRANCE. 
 
 support of one man in facing another. She knew 
 that Silvere was not a coward, for she had had good 
 proof. She felt her strength increased by his 
 strength, her courage by his courage. 
 
 " Captain, you must wake up." 
 
 Poidevin snorted like a mad whale. He struck 
 with his fist the wall of his bunk, heavily enough to 
 wake all the other sleepers. 
 
 " By my sainted mother ! " 
 
 " South, a quarter south-east, captain." 
 
 " Let me sleep." 
 
 " It is on account of Cousin Florimond." 
 
 " Florimond ! He is not worth even a half mug 
 of grog." 
 
 " He is in trouble, captain ! We must help him ! " 
 
 " A braggart ! Let him get himself out of trouble, 
 he who is so superior to others." 
 
 "All the same, captain, you must get up and " 
 
 " No ! Death of my soul, no ! " 
 
 And for the third time Poidevin went to sleep. 
 
 " Then I am going to take the helm. You will 
 hold me blameless?" 
 
 " By my sainted mother ! " 
 
 That was Poidevin's oath, his unusual exclamation, 
 when he wished to put an end to a discussion and 
 was thoroughly angry. 
 
 " Very well, captain, by your mother and by all that 
 is dear to you, I tell you that you must go to the help 
 of these men in danger and misery. If any are lost 
 through your fault you will suffer tortures of mind. 
 You will see them at night in bodily presence, with 
 eyes which reproach you and fingers which point at
 
 A FISHER GIRL OF FRANCE. 2 3 l 
 
 you. You will see them pale from lack of sleep, and 
 you will have no more sleep yourself. It is not right 
 to stupefy one's self with drink and leave others to 
 die. They will pursue you, Poidevin. You may 
 drink harder than ever, but you will see them as 
 plainly as if you were sober. I saw my father and 
 I wanted to die. I tell you that you must get up." 
 
 Poidevin sat up stupidly. With his little gray 
 eyes, all sunk in their sockets, he looked at Elise, 
 then at Silvere, then at the other sailors who had 
 been drawn by the noise of the dispute. 
 
 " Come, follow up their tracks, captain. Lise is 
 right. Sailors ought to stand by one another." 
 
 Growling and shaking off painfully his stupor, the 
 captain struggled to his feet, then climbed out and 
 went to the helm. He noted their course and 
 approved it, and the boat sailed on south a quarter 
 south-east. 
 
 Then Elise, exhausted by her efforts and overcome 
 by her feelings, fell into Silvere's arms. 
 
 " Lise, Lise, my beloved, you are more observant 
 than any man and handier than any woman." 
 
 And he drew her close to his heart and lips in an 
 irresistible outburst of admiration. 
 
 For an hour now they had run in the direction 
 pointed out by Barbet, and had seen nothing. 
 Poidevin had become sober through impatience. 
 They would lose theircluetothe herring ; they would 
 lose a day's fishing, and all for the pleasure of follow- 
 ing a dog's suggestions. He would allow ten 
 minutes, but not another minute more. If they
 
 23 2 A FISHER GIRL OF FRANCE. 
 
 waited until night in order to find themselves in the 
 bed of the fish they risked going to bed themselves 
 without any. 
 
 The more the time ran on without any results the 
 more anxiously did Elise scan the sea. 
 
 " Barbet, you have not deceived me ?" 
 
 The dog did not answer. He was mortified that 
 they should have doubted him. For an hour Elise 
 had been troubling him to repeat every little while 
 the same signal, and he was annoyed in his turn. 
 Silent and resolute, his eye fixed on the point 
 whence came the scent of the shipwrecked men, he 
 waited to see them before speaking. 
 
 The ten minutes passed. Poidevin had no watch, 
 but he could tell the time by the sun without ever 
 being out a second. It was a good enough watch 
 for him ; it wound itself and did not have to be 
 carried in the pocket. 
 
 Noting its position above the horizon the mo- 
 ment he saw the time was up, he shouted : 
 
 " Get ready to come about. Loose the jib-sheet ! " 
 
 " No, Poidevin, just ten minutes more and I will 
 not ask for another one. I promise you, Poidevin." 
 
 " Ready to come about ! " 
 
 " They cannot be far, captain, from the drift of 
 their nets. Barbet, do you see nothing? Speak, 
 my old Barbet." 
 
 The dog remained silent, and the captain un- 
 decided. 
 
 " Ten minutes. Is it too much to give for peace 
 of mind ? You will be glad of it, Poidevin." 
 
 Ten minutes short as ten seconds.
 
 A FISHER GIRL OI- I-'RAXCE. 233 
 
 They sailed fast, but found nothing. 
 
 Nothing on the horizon. A boat is large enough 
 to be seen far off. One can distinguish it easily. 
 But there were only the colliers, with their heavy 
 rigging and their black sails. Poidevin had his eye 
 on the sun. The second ten minutes passed. 
 
 " Ready to come about ! Loose the jib-sheet." 
 
 " Captain, if you knew how I suffered on my 
 father's account, you would risk five minutes more. 
 Five minutes will you condemn yourself for so 
 little time?" 
 
 " You trouble me, Lise. We fairly creep along 
 now under our load of fish. Will it take us as long 
 to go back as it has to come ? If we once lose the 
 fish, who knows when we shall find them again." 
 
 "We will all take a hand in working her." 
 
 " You talk nonsense. Can you push the boat ? " 
 
 " Captain, do not punish yourself. You do not 
 know the torment it brings. Do you see nothing, 
 my old Barbet? If you see ever so little, tell Poide- 
 vin." 
 
 Barbet kept perfectly silent. 
 
 " Ready to come about ! Loose the jib-sheet." 
 
 And without further hesitation the boat headed 
 back on the way she had come. In despair, as she 
 thought of her cousin Florimond, so fine and so 
 strong, whom the envious sea would soon claim, Elise 
 sank down on the deck. 
 
 "Luff her. Hug the wind." 
 
 " Captain, I beg you 
 
 " Give her nearly a full." 
 
 " Captain, Barbet speaks come about ! Barbet
 
 234 A FISHER GIRL OF FRANCE. 
 
 has spoken ! Come about, quickly ! Yes ! over 
 there! No! Barbet is fooling us! That is not a 
 boat ! It is more like a beacon ! The glass " 
 
 Elise was at the hatch before she had finished 
 speaking. She slipped from the ladder in her haste 
 to go doxvn, but, picking herself up seized the glass, 
 and, climbing quickly back, adjusted it. 
 
 " Come about, captain ; there are three men there. 
 They seem to be on a buoy." 
 
 She ran to Poidevin, and placed it before his eyes. 
 She trembled so that he could see nothing. 
 
 " Let me have it alone. You jiggle it so under 
 my nose that you upset all my ideas." 
 
 He squared it, correcting the range carefully, and 
 looked for a third time. Elise trembled with ner- 
 vous anxiety. Finally Poidevin made them out. 
 He threw himself on the helm, and, with a voice like 
 a roll of thunder : 
 
 " Hoist all sail. Do not lose a breath of wind. 
 Head south, a quarter south-east." 
 
 The "boat again turned in the direction of the cast- 
 aways. The men who were not working her strug- 
 gled for the glass. They could nearly make out 
 the wreckage with the naked eye, but the glass 
 showed more than three men. There were six, 
 astride of a mast, a buoy, or a beacon ; they could 
 not tell what it was. 
 
 " Get the small boat ready. Take boat-hooks and 
 ropes." 
 
 The boat could not sail fast enough to please the 
 captain. Big Poidevin was warm-hearted when he 
 was not in liquor. He hated to cry, for it gave him
 
 A FISHER GIRL OF FRANCE. 235 
 
 a cold ; but his eyes filled with tears, so greatly was 
 he moved at these men's sufferings. 
 
 "Death of my soul, Elise! they will owe you a 
 good turn, those fellows there, if they ever realize 
 what you have done for them." 
 
 " Let us make haste, captain. The sailors can 
 make out only five men through the glass. There 
 were certainly six. One must have fallen." 
 
 There were not even five, but only four, when the 
 sloop reached them. All had seen the Jeune-Adol- 
 phine coming, but their strength had not held 
 out. 
 
 Elise slipped hurriedly into the small boat, taking 
 with her Silvere and two sailors. She was to steer, 
 Silvere held himself free for the work of rescue, and 
 the two sailors were to row. 
 
 They drew near the wretched men, who were 
 clinging to a boat's mast, as they could tell by the 
 rigging an d by the tin pennant, which was still 
 showing the direction of the wind, as if in irony. 
 
 The Bon-Pecheurs hull had been crushed, and, 
 before she disappeared forever, she lay floating out 
 of sight ; as if in the last effort of a faithful servant 
 to offer in her top-mast a place of refuge for the sur- 
 vivors of her crew. 
 
 Florimond was there. They learned later on the 
 details of the disaster. He had been run down the 
 night before, while fishing. A collier, rather than 
 swerve a trifle from her course, had gone over 
 the Bon-P$cheur, which, hampered in her movements 
 by the floating nets, had not been able to avoid her. 
 Twelve men, including the boy, had taken refuge in
 
 236 A FISHER GIRL OF FRANCE. 
 
 the small boat, which was capable, at most, of hold- 
 ing half that number. What had become of them ? 
 
 For fifteen hours the other six had clung to the 
 main-mast. 
 
 They had seen craft of all kinds. In those seas 
 they were nearly as common as vehicles on a road 
 on shore ; but no one had seen them, or had wanted to 
 see them. They were about to let go, in exhaus- 
 tion and despair, when \\\e Jeune-AdolpJiine had ap- 
 peared. Two of them, alas! had not been able to 
 hold out for the few minutes until help came. 
 
 " Keep up yourcourage, Cousin Florimond. Pull 
 hard, men. Aim well, Silvere." 
 
 It was not easy to come alongside the men. The 
 rigging around the mast kept the boat off, and 
 made it necessary for them to slide down into the 
 water and be fished out afterward with the gaff. 
 They were so weak, so nearly at their last gasp, and 
 so spent that they could do nothing to help them- 
 selves. Unconsciously, as it were, they clung fast, 
 seeming to have lost all power of thought and ac- 
 tion. The captain was highest on the mast, and the 
 three men were below him. 
 
 " Aim straight, Silvere. Slide down, Old Quar- 
 relsome." 
 
 Old Quarrelsome was a well-known sailor of the 
 Bon-Pecheur, and a great hand to use his fists or his 
 knife. Elise knew him, for she had made her first 
 cruise with him, and had often seen him among her 
 enemies. How many times he had stirred up Flori- 
 mond against her. It was he who held the jigger- 
 sheet when Silvere and Barnab had quarrelled, and
 
 A FISHER GIRL OF FRANCE. 237 
 
 who had urged them on by his cries. Elise forgot 
 it all, and Silvere, too, had no desire to recall it. 
 
 " Hurry, Old Quarrelsome, the others are wait- 
 ing." 
 
 The man did not dare to move. His mind was 
 weakened, as well as his body. He looked at them 
 stupidly, as if he did not understand. A kick on 
 the head, which Florimond brutally dealt him, made 
 him loose his hold. He plunged and disappeared, 
 but the gaff followed and he came to the surface 
 with it fast to him, like a sturgeon at the end of a 
 harpoon, and was quickly hauled aboard. 
 
 It was the second man's turn. He was an or- 
 phan and nearly an idiot, whom the sailors called 
 Stutterer. It was, doubtless, partly through pity, for 
 words failed him more from stupidity than from any 
 trouble with his tongue. Elise knew him, too, as 
 she knew all the men on the Bon-Pecheur. Ill-tem- 
 pered by reason of his infirmity, he had treated her 
 roughly at times. She forgave him. 
 
 " Slide down, Stutterer." 
 
 He clung stupidly to the mast, uttering cries like 
 a monkey in distress. A kick, which resounded on 
 his hard skull, knocked him senseless into the water, 
 where he was seized by the hook of the gaff and 
 was soon with his fellow in the boat. 
 
 " Hurrah ! Silvere ! " shouted Poidevin and all his 
 men, as from the deck of the Jeune-Adolphine they 
 watched this strange fishing. " Hurrah ! " 
 
 They had to go to the other side of the mast to 
 get the third man. He could not help himself any 
 more than the others. He clung more firmly even
 
 2 3 8 A FISHER GIKL OF FRAXCE. 
 
 than they, and did not drop until he had received 
 four kicks. He was unconscious when he was 
 hauled in at the end of Silvere's unerring gaff. 
 
 Then they rowed to the Jeune-Adolphine to carry 
 the three men whom they had rescued, for the boat 
 was already overloaded. 
 
 "We will come back for you,"Florimond. Hold 
 fast." 
 
 " Don't be uneasy, Lise. I can hang on as long 
 as necessary. I am not an old woman." 
 
 Florimond was always a man of surprises. He 
 was stronger than any one. After hanging at arm's 
 length for fifteen hours, he could have hung on an- 
 other day and night. When he saw the boat re- 
 turning he slid down the mast to the water, refused 
 the aid of the gaff which was held him, and struck 
 out, like a virtuoso in his bath, to swim to them. 
 
 He was fine, was Florimond. His muscular arms 
 cleft the water, above which towered his proud, 
 bronzed face. Suddenly he started, and stopped as 
 if caught fast. 
 
 "Help, Silvere!" 
 
 The gaff was within reach of his hand, but he 
 could not seize it. His rigid fingers stood out stiffly 
 for some instants above the water, and then disap- 
 peared. 
 
 " Do not let him die, Silvere. To the rescue, r..y 
 old Barbet." 
 
 The dog leaped overboard and reappeared pres- 
 ently, splashing like a cat, with a piece of a blouse 
 in his mouth. The gaff came to his aid and dragged 
 up a bundle of flesh and clothes, which seemed life-
 
 HIS RIGID HNGERS STOOD OUT STIFFLY FOR SOME INSTANTS 
 ABOVE THE WATER. 
 
 Chap. 26.
 
 A FISHER GIRL OF FRANCE. 2 39 
 
 less. But the arms suddenly clutched the offered 
 help. " Haul him in, Silvere. He is saved ! " 
 
 " Misery ! Help, Poidevin ! " 
 
 Dragged down by Florimond's weight and thrown 
 off his balance, Silvere went headlong into the sea. 
 
 " Help, Poidevin !" 
 
 But he was too far away to help. With a turn of 
 her arm, Elise made fast a rope around her waist. 
 
 " Hold firmly, men, and haul hard after I have 
 dived." 
 
 She threw herself headlong. The sailors hauled 
 in the rope. What a strange mass came with her? 
 In the last agonies of a drowning man Florimond 
 had seized Silvere in a desperate clutch. They 
 struggled hand to hand, one clutching, the other 
 pushing him off. In the fierceness of the struggle 
 they escaped from Elise's grasp, and disappeared 
 a second time. She dived again. Slowly she came 
 back to the surface, drawn by the rope, and drag- 
 ging her burden with both hands. 
 
 " My strength is all gone. Florimond drags us 
 down." 
 
 Burbot heard her cry. He had recovered his 
 breath, and was swimming about, waiting until he 
 could be of use. He dashed forward, and, seizing 
 Florimond by the throat, strangled him until he 
 loosed his hold. 
 
 Elise helped first Silvere, then Florimond, who, 
 in his mighty arms, convulsively clutched Barbet, 
 whom he half crushed. 
 
 Elise dived again. 
 
 What could she be searching for, now that they
 
 240 A FISHER GIRL OF FRANCE. 
 
 were all safe Silvere, Barbet, and Florimond ? 
 Did she hope to recover the two men of the Bon- 
 Pfaheur who had fallen, overcome by weakness, the 
 moment before the arrival of the Jeune-AdolpJiine ? 
 Alas, the waves had swept them away as they 
 pleased ! 
 
 " Get aboard, Lise. Your Barbet is badly hurt." 
 
 "What is it? Misery! Hurry, men, and pull 
 me in." 
 
 Half pulled, half climbing, Elise scrambled into 
 the boat. She found Barbet with rattling breath, 
 his tongue hanging out, foam on his lips, and only 
 the whites of his eyes visible. 
 
 " Speak to me, my old Barbet. Tell me that you 
 are not hurt. It would be too hard to lose your 
 life in saving those of others, old Barbet."
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 BARBET was cared for like a child. Stretched on 
 a soft bed of nets and bagging, he had the bunk all 
 to himself. Elise had given it up to him. Sick 
 people must have comforts. She herself slept, sit- 
 ting on a box near his bed, and, like a true ship- 
 mate, took the best care of him. 
 
 She made endless dressings and cooling drinks 
 for him. He would turn his eye, lighted with the 
 wild gleams of fever, toward her, then his head would 
 drop weakly and slowly back. 
 
 " Get well quickly, my old Barbet. What will 
 Firmin say to see you in this plight? He will scold 
 me for having let you get hurt." 
 
 Barbet did not show any interest at all at the 
 name of Firmin. He was interested only in the 
 things of life that appealed to his heart. Was it 
 likely that he would be moved at the thought of a 
 lad who cared more for ambition than for friendship. 
 He wished to get well, truly, but only to please 
 Elise, whom he had always loved, who loved him in 
 her sorrow as well as in her joy, when he was sick 
 and when he was well alike. 
 
 He had nearly died, and all through a misunder- 
 standing. In throwing himself on Florimond, he 
 had wanted simply to free Silvere, and make the 
 task of saving him more easy. His good intentions 
 
 341
 
 2 4 2 A FISHER GIRL OF FRANCE. 
 
 had been badly repaid, for he had been nearly 
 throttled in a moment of furious rage by the man 
 whom he was trying to succor. 
 
 Florimond himself, strong as always, had not suf- 
 fered long from the shock. He was one of those 
 who leave illness to others, and keep none for them- 
 selves, A night's rest made him forget all his 
 bodily fatigue. 
 
 But he did not find it so easy to forget his troubles 
 of mind. 
 
 Not that he was much concerned at the loss of 
 his boat. He counted on the insurance companies 
 making that good. Apart from his boat he was 
 rich. An old aunt, who admired his strength and 
 beauty, had made him her heir. Since then he had 
 been in a position where he not only need not sail 
 himself, but might own ships sent out in charge of 
 others. He loved the sea so much that he had not 
 been able to leave her. To-day he was tired of her. 
 He had found out what pleasure she takes in be- 
 traying those upon whom she has piled up her 
 favors. 
 
 She was the true culprit, and he had had the 
 meanness to persecute another when the fault had 
 been hers. Poor Elise. He had harassed her and 
 had accused her of a betrayal of trust, and now he 
 knew that she was innocent. He had caused her 
 great distress, and, for her revenge, she had saved 
 his life. 
 
 Without her he would have been drowned, and, 
 from abyss to abyss in that endless waste of waters, 
 dragged down by the weight of his sins, he would
 
 A FISHER GIRL OF FRANCE. 243 
 
 have tossed about pitilessly with staring eyes, his 
 body eaten by fishes, his soul in torture. She had 
 saved him not only from death, but from the pains 
 of expiation. 
 
 Courageous under all circumstances, forgetful of 
 injuries, strong in her sacrifice of self, how had he 
 failed to appreciate her! Her heart was as noble as 
 her face was pure. Was she really to marry Sil- 
 vere, a man without shoulders or chest, all length 
 and no breadth. If he were rich even, this big gull ; 
 but he was not well enough off to be even a captain. 
 His father had made large sums in his trade as pilot, 
 but unfortunately he had not managed well, for 
 they had gone to assist his neighbors, and in kindly 
 acts which had not helped the donor. 
 
 Florimond paced the deck of \.\\.eJeune-Adolphine, 
 full of troubled thoughts. He was tired to death 
 of the forecastle, the close air distressed him. He 
 was at ease only under the lash of the breeze, for 
 his heart was full of disquiet. 
 
 Sometimes when he met him on the deck, so 
 overcome with melancholy, Poidevin would throw 
 him a comforting word. 
 
 "It is better to drown your trouble, Captain 
 Florimond, than to let it drown you. Come, the 
 jug of grog is waiting. It would not be fair to let 
 it go dry from lack of notice." 
 
 But neither rum nor any other spirits could con- 
 sole Florimond. Poidevin had to drink alone, and 
 he did his best at it, looking into his mug for 
 good advice. 
 
 He had not completed the cruise ; that is to say {
 
 244 A FISHER GIRL OF FRANCE. 
 
 all his bins were not filled, but he could not make 
 up his mind whether he had better head for home 
 or not. 
 
 In looking for the castaways they had lost the 
 herring, and had not been able to find them, al- 
 though they had tried thoroughly. Besides, in 
 spite of the advanced season, the days were warm, 
 and the fish might ferment in the hold. The first 
 week of September had gone, the equinoctial storms 
 were at hand. It was the time of the year when 
 squalls are so common that one meets them at every 
 turn. Decidedly it would be better to save what 
 fish they had and pass a week ashore. Such was 
 the advice which the captain decided to follow after 
 a whole day's session with his mug. 
 
 " Well, lads, the cruise is over. Tell the man at 
 the wheel to head for home." 
 
 Elise was busy near Barbet, when she heard him 
 shout this out at the top of his voice. 
 
 She started as she heard it. And Firmin ? 
 Should she not see him again ? To leave the Scotch 
 seas was to give up the hope of meeting him. With- 
 out stopping to think she ran to Poidevin. 
 
 " Take me first to England, captain, I want to 
 see my boy." 
 
 Well as he knew Elise's plans, and thoroughly as 
 he had decided not to oppose them, at least unless 
 compliance with them menaced the safety of the boat, 
 Poidevin was stunned at her demand. He raised 
 his arms above his head, and murmured some ill- 
 humored exclamations. 
 
 " Death of my soul ! You think no more of flaunt-
 
 A FISHER GIRL OF FRANCE. 2 45 
 
 ing your demands in our faces than in turning a 
 quid in your mouth. I should be a fool to do as 
 you wish. Try to meet your corvette on the way 
 home, or you will have no chance of seeing your 
 Firmin. What do you expect ? it is the way of our 
 trade." 
 
 " You must take me, captain ; I came with the 
 expectation of seeing my boy. I will not go until I 
 have succeeded in my plan." 
 
 " By my sainted mother! " 
 
 Poidevin turned his back so angrily that Elise 
 saw that it was useless to insist. She passed the 
 night near Barbet, and at dawn went on deck to 
 begin her outlook again. 
 
 Through constant watching her eyes had gained 
 an unusual power, so that the most distant and the 
 most fleeting objects were clear to them. 
 
 It was hardly four o'clock. The horizon was in- 
 distinct by reason of a haze or fog. At intervals 
 she thought she could make out some black dots, 
 but they speedily disappeared. Then more anx- 
 iously than ever she searched the great expanse, as 
 if at any moment there might start forth the well- 
 appointed corvette she was looking for. 
 
 Elise thought sadly that over yonder, behind the 
 fogs, was a coast that now she had no chance of 
 knowing. There were the shores of Scotland 
 stretching away, green under the majestic reaches 
 of ancient forests. Scotland, rich and beautiful as 
 a land preferred of nature, was already far away; 
 for, for seven hours they had sailed southward and 
 they had passed the northern bounds of England.
 
 246 A FISHER GIRL OF FRANCE. 
 
 Edinburgh and Berwick ! Elise had given up hope 
 of ever set-ing them. 
 
 That night they should reach the neighborhood 
 of the gulf into which the Thames pours its muddy 
 and impure waters. The air is black with smoke, 
 the sky itself is darkened. Its outlines cannot be 
 distinguished from the open sea because its shores 
 are low, but it can easily be known from the num- 
 ber of steamers inward bound. Elise dreaded to 
 reach it, for once there, it would be foolish to hope 
 any longer. 
 
 Was not that smoke on the northern horizon ? 
 No ; it was only a flock of seagulls which had 
 waked with the day. 
 
 Misery! Should the big sister have less courage 
 than her little brother? He had discovered a way 
 of escape from \\\& flambart, ought she to hesitate? 
 She would buy Poidevin's small boat, paying for it 
 with her nets ; she would take Silvere, and they 
 would row ashore, they two, and would find Firmin. 
 
 On government ships the discipline is strict and 
 the officers are harsh. With his spirit of insubordi- 
 nation the lad would suffer ; he would want his 
 sister. Without doubt he asked for her every 
 night in his prayers, and was consumed with desire 
 to see her. 
 
 There was no time to lose. Elise raised herself 
 to go and strike a bargain with the captain. But 
 big Poidevin was still asleep. The night before he 
 had had a great orgy in the forecastle, and he had 
 drunk to his decision to return, emptying his mug 
 twice more than usual.
 
 A FISHER GIRL OF FRANCE. 247 
 
 No, it was not a flight of seagulls which made 
 that long trail in the sky. It was really smoke, but 
 not so thick, heavy, and black as that of the colliers. 
 
 What was the use of hoping ! It was probably a 
 steamer, like so many others, sailing from some 
 English port. Poidevin might be angry if he 
 wished ; well, let him be ; when one wishes a thing 
 ought not one dare ask for it ? 
 
 But this vessel really began to look like a cor- 
 vette ; her outlines became distinct. Through the 
 glass, which never left her, Elise made out pres- 
 ently three top-masts and their yards rising gradually 
 above the sea. The breeze was soft that morning, 
 and her smoke, which rose high and straight, was 
 seen first. 
 
 The lower masts appeared in their turn, and at 
 last the hull with her guns. It was certainly a cor- 
 vette under steam and sail. She was now clearly in 
 the field of the glass. She cleft the waves with her 
 graceful lines, and seemed as if following in their 
 wake and in pursuit of them. In a quarter of 
 an hour she would overtake the Jeune-Adolphine. 
 It was certainly she ! French colors ! Yes it was 
 she, and Firmin was aboard. 
 
 She could hardly keep her feet, she trembled so 
 with delight. Suddenly she recovered herself, and, 
 bursting like a puff of wind into the forecastle, cried 
 with the full force of her lungs : 
 
 " Silvere, the corvette ! We shall see Firmin." 
 
 All the sailors were roused from their dreams ; 
 Poidevin alone snored on. Silvere sprang to his feet 
 ready to share the delight of his betrothed.
 
 2 48 A FISHER GIRL OF FRAKCE. 
 
 "Examine her yourself, Silvere. I am sure my 
 heart has not deceived me." 
 
 Then hurriedly Elise went to the bunk where 
 Barbet lay uncomplainingly. 
 
 " Our little Firmin is close at hand, my old Bar- 
 bet. If you would only get well quickly we should 
 be so happy, we three. What makes you scowl so ? 
 It is bad not to trust in the love of one's friends. 
 I will go away, you pain me." 
 
 Two light barks recalled Elise. The dog turned 
 toward her his mournful head and his sombre eyes. 
 
 " I forgive you, my old Barbet. Sick people are 
 always restless and full of suspicion. Our Firmin 
 does not forget you." 
 
 And Elise laid her cheek softly against his nose. 
 
 "Always a warm nose, Barbet, and always these 
 shivers ! You need land air to set you up again. 
 This time we will go home without any regrets." 
 
 She petted him, gently smiling, stroking his head 
 where the temples beat with fever, and his neck, 
 whose warmth she loved, but which was now burn- 
 ing hot. She ran to get a fresh draught, and care- 
 fully and patiently, spoonful by spoonful, she made 
 the sick dog drink. Then she dried his lips and put 
 all her affection in a good-by kiss. 
 
 Opening her box, which lay in front of the bunk, 
 she took out of it her best skirt and her most coquet- 
 tish hat, and taking off her sou'wester and her oil- 
 skin dress, arrayed herself as if for a high holiday. 
 She threw a last smile at Barbet. 
 
 " Do not be uneasy, my old Barbet. I will bring 
 Firmin as soon as he mounts the deck."
 
 A FISHER GIRL OF FRANCE. 249 
 
 And while the dog followed her with a mournful 
 look, as if overcome by some dismal foreboding, she 
 hurried away. She was up the ladder in two bounds, 
 and started as she saw the corvette flying the French 
 flag close to them. She climbed the bulwarks 
 quickly and clung there, looking forFirmin. 
 
 She saw him at the very end of the bowsprit, with 
 nothing else to steady himself by but the ropes. 
 There he stood, at least fifty feet away from the deck, 
 in advance of the ship, as if hovering in the air 
 above the sea. He was like one of those bold 
 figures which imagination gives as guides to ships 
 on allegorical voyages. 
 
 Elise was so frightened that she had to get down, 
 half dazed, from the bulwarks to the solid surface of 
 the deck. 
 
 It was truly her lad, unconscious of danger, as he 
 always was. She did not dare to make a sign or utter 
 a word, for fear he should be startled and lose his 
 balance. She hid herself behind a corner of the 
 sail, and had not yet regained her composure when 
 the corvette came to leeward of the sloop, took in 
 sail so as to fetch her, and began to run alongside 
 in order to hail. 
 
 " Jeune-Adolphine. Captain Amable Poidevin. 
 Official orders ! " 
 
 The captain, hastily forewarned, appeared at that 
 moment, still half dazed with sleep. He announced 
 himself at once as the captain, and the boat stopped 
 while the corvette came alongside. 
 
 The interchange of words between the two boats 
 was short. A letter from the maritime prefect had
 
 25 A FISHER GIRL OF FRANCE. 
 
 arrived t\vo days before at the station at Plymouth, 
 ordering them to search in the Scotch seas for the 
 Jeune-Adolphine, and to transfer to her the lad res- 
 cued from the sea. This letter was the result of 
 steps taken jointly by the under-commissaires of 
 Treport and Saint-Valery. They had joined forces 
 in order to arrange for Elise a surprise, and to give 
 her the pleasure of bringing home her brother. 
 
 Orders were called out on the deck of the cor- 
 vette. 
 
 " Boatswain ! " 
 
 An old sailor with deep wrinkles came for- 
 ward. 
 
 " Bring the boy, Henin." 
 
 On hearing this order, Elise could not restrain her- 
 self. 
 
 " Firmin, my dear boy, my Firmin, hurry. I can- 
 not wait." 
 
 But when the boatswain came to call him, Firmin 
 steadied himself by the rope and did not budge. 
 
 Elise was wild with impatience. 
 
 " Firmin, you break my heart by your delay. 
 Come quickly. You will see Barbet." 
 
 The boy was obstinate. Neither pleasant nor 
 sharp words succeeded in bringing him to the deck. 
 The boatswain ordered them to seize him. Two sail- 
 ors sat astride the bowsprit, and gradually worked 
 their way almost to the rebel. But how were they to 
 stand erect on this slippery-pole hardly large enough 
 for the feet of a bird, and, if once erect, how could 
 they struggle with him without twenty times risking 
 a plunge into the sea ?
 
 A FISHER GIRL OF FRANCE. 251 
 
 The boy impassible, with a steady look and per- 
 fectly determined, watched them approach. 
 
 He had been told of the orders which had come 
 concerning him, and refused to leave the vessel. 
 The true life for him was not that of a hand on one 
 of the dirty little fishing-boats smelling of brine, but 
 that of a sailor on a glittering ship odorous of pol- 
 ished wood. 
 
 This new life so full of hope, this future of riches 
 and glory, had opened to him. He did not wish to 
 see his sister yet ; he had sworn not to return until 
 he had won the lace of a quartermaster. 
 
 But the corvette could not lie there at the caprice 
 of a lad. After long consultations among the offi- 
 cers, a topman climbed to that point on the mast 
 whence a cable runs to the very end of the bowsprit. 
 
 Then, without hesitation, without even considering 
 the danger, he swung himself from the cable, and 
 hand underhand he descended it slowly and evenly, 
 so that Firmin should not suspect his coming. 
 
 The sailors who had seen the maneuver made 
 as if to attack Firmin, in order to keep him on 
 guard. He had his eye on them, ready to take the 
 defensive. 
 
 Not a sound. On the two boats all the men 
 were watching, their eyes opened, their lips closed, 
 in their excitement. 
 
 The topman, keeping steadily on, was approaching 
 without being seen. Two fathoms more, and the 
 boy was taken. 
 
 Through the deep silence, like the trail of a 
 rocket, came a long, strident cry :
 
 25 2 A FISHER GIRL OF FRANCE. 
 
 "Watch the top, my little man " 
 
 A cry which broke in on the stupor of officers and 
 men, and reverberated, with echo after echo, far 
 across the sea. " Watch the top, my little man." 
 
 Overtaxed by waiting, and excited by anxiety for 
 her boy, Elise had unconsciously shouted out a 
 sister's warning. 
 
 While the sailor stopped, astonished, Firmin 
 raised his head and saw him close at hand. 
 
 He did not give even a start of surprise. Quickly 
 and resolutely, for he was determined to escape, 
 seeing himself cut off in front and above, he flat- 
 tened himself on the bowsprit and slipped down one 
 of the cables stretched beneath it. He hoped to 
 reach the figure-head of Fortune, and there to find 
 refuge from his pursuers on her breast, as on that of 
 a protecting divinity. 
 
 Unfortunately, in his haste he made a false move, 
 lost his balance, and disappeared under the waves. 
 
 A cry of terror re-echoed from the deck of the 
 Jeune-Adolphine like the cry of a mother in distress. 
 
 But at that very moment a boat appeared from 
 the other side of the corvette, just in time to seize 
 Firmin, as he came to the surface, and row him to the 
 Jeune-Adolphine. Two sailors caught him under the 
 arms, and made a rope fast around him. 
 
 " Hoist him up ! " 
 
 Misery ! As they were lifting him he managed to 
 slip from the rope, fell back into the water, and dis- 
 appeared from sight between the boat and the ship. 
 
 " Seize him quick. He cannot swim."
 
 "CALM YOURSELF, ELISE.WE SHOULD MAKE THE OTHERS LAUGH." 
 Chap. 27.
 
 A FISHER GIRL OF FRANCE. 2 53 
 
 What was Elise saying He not swim ! The 
 scamp, he could swim like a porpoise! He passed 
 under the boat, reached the corvette, scaled her 
 ladder, and was on the deck he loved. 
 
 " Captain, keep me. I want to become an officer." 
 
 The captain called Elise, and they began talking 
 again. The letter of the maritime prefect was only 
 mandatory on one point. It directed that the boy 
 should be taken to his sister, and this had been done. 
 If now Elise would consent to his enlisting, they 
 would keep her brother on board. He was cut out 
 for a good sailor. It was a pity to deprive the coun- 
 try of his services. 
 
 "Come, my daughter, decide." 
 
 Her eyes full of tears, her head drooping, her 
 voice nearly undistinguishable, Elise gave her con- 
 sent. 
 
 " Captain, it shall be as you wish, only let me 
 embrace him." 
 
 At last she pressed to her breast her lost child, 
 the child she loved. What a flood of caresses, and 
 what feverish kisses, she bestowed upon him. 
 
 " Firmin, my sweet little man, you are always 
 beautiful. I tremble with happiness at seeing you." 
 
 " Calm yourself, Elise, you will make the others 
 laugh at us." 
 
 " Have no fear. One does not laugh at those who 
 love one another. Let me look at you." 
 
 " Look, instead, how everything shines on a big 
 ship." 
 
 " It is your eyes that shine. I have no fancy for 
 any other gleams."
 
 254 A FISHER GIRL OF FRANCE. 
 
 " And see how trim everything is, and how strong 
 the rigging." 
 
 " What do I care ? It is only you that I wish to 
 admire a long look, a long look, so that I may carry 
 you away in my soul and eyes at least." 
 
 " Calm yourself, Lise. We shall meet again later 
 on. I shall have won my rank. You will be 
 proud." 
 
 " Oh, no ! Such gains are made at too great a 
 cost. Since we were born, we have never been 
 separated." 
 
 " Elise, do go. You will make me lose my chance 
 of being an officer. The captain will take back his 
 word. There is an end to his patience." 
 
 And Firmin pushed his sister to the ship's side, 
 where the ladder was fixed. 
 
 " Do go ! " 
 
 Elise was overcome. She had had too many 
 blows. She could restrain no longer the beating of 
 her heart. Choking as she was, she forced herself 
 to say good-by. 
 
 " I am going, captain. Be good to him." 
 
 She did not know how she got back to the Jeune- 
 Adolphine. She seemed deaf even to the voice of 
 Firmin, who cried gayly: 
 
 " Good-by, Elise ! You will see me with stripes 
 on my sleeves." 
 
 She passed without speaking before Silvere, 
 Florimond, and Poidevin, and all the sailors grouped 
 together, and walked rigidly to the forecastle. But 
 she had barely reached there when her self-control 
 gave way, and she threw herself on her box. With
 
 A FISHER GIRL OF FRANCE. 255 
 
 her head resting on the edge of the bunk, she wept 
 beside Barbet. 
 
 " My old Barbet, he does not love us any more; 
 he has never loved us. He did not even speak of 
 you, old Barbet." 
 
 With a look in which shone his tender heart, Bar- 
 bet seemed to say: 
 
 " Friend, he must suffer who loves too well. If 
 the affection of any one else can console you, be 
 sure of mine. It is yours for life and death. Friend, 
 there is still one who cherishes and adores you ; your 
 big Silvere, who knows not how to tell his love, but 
 can prove it. Do you not see him silent and sad 
 behind you. He weeps at your tears, and his heart 
 beats in sympathy with yours. His arms are open, 
 tell your sorrows to him. Is not a friend's heart a 
 refuge for all who are wounded by ingratitude?"
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 
 SINCE morning the Jetme-AdolpJiine had been in 
 the Channel. It was her last night at sea, for the 
 next day at the evening tide she ought to be fast at 
 the quay at Dieppe, whither she was bound to sell 
 her fish. 
 
 Elise had been ordered to the helm during the 
 second watch. Silvere had wanted to take her place. 
 Since she had been so unhappy he had become more 
 attentive, had spared her fatigue, had watched over 
 her, and had anticipated her wants. Alas ! she had 
 no wants. She was wrapt in an indifference born of 
 grief. He did not leave her; he comforted her by 
 his affectionate glances and by that silent sympathy 
 of which delicate natures know the secret. 
 
 What could he say? He had tried to speak of 
 Firmin, but it awakened all her grief and she had 
 burst into tears. He had ended by following her 
 about like a faithful dog, as Barbet would have fol- 
 lowed her if he had not been ill. 
 
 This community of suffering had made Silvere 
 pale, so greatly had all these wakeful nights told 
 upon him. Big men cannot endure a long strain. 
 Elise now, not only refused fresh help from him, 
 but for the last few nights, by her entreaties, had 
 made him take his usual sleep. She herself was 
 lying down for the first time since Barbet was ill, 
 
 256
 
 A FISHER GIRL OF FRANCE. 257 
 
 and was dreaming of Firmin when the summons to 
 the deck brought her back from the happy vision. 
 
 She was never late at her post. Without troub- 
 ling her head about her companion of the watch, who 
 was slower to wake, she hurried on deck to relieve 
 the man at the wheel. 
 
 It was nearly the end of the full moon and the 
 night was clear, though at times thick, slow-moving 
 clouds hid the sky for long intervals. When Elise 
 heard the closing of the hatch she could not tell 
 which of the men came out. Whoever it was, he 
 would be her only companion for several hours, for 
 in light breezes two were enough to watch the 
 boat. 
 
 Elise heard his steps in the bow as he went to 
 take his place as lookout. 
 
 The weather was a little uncertain. At times one 
 of the heavy clouds would send down a fine warm 
 rain on the boat, and it was for that reason that they 
 had taken the precaution to close the hatch. 
 
 There was a kind of languor in the air. Notwith- 
 standing her accustomed vigor Elise was depressed. 
 She was tired, body and soul, but under a presenti- 
 ment of coming trouble she threw it off and held 
 herself ready for action. 
 
 In spite of the darkness of the night she had a 
 vague intuition that the figure, which she had hardly 
 seen, was that of Florimond. What was he going 
 to do, and what new" fancy led him to take the place 
 of one of the men? Since he had come on the 
 Jeune-Adolphine he had not once offered to help in 
 handling her. He had always preserved his dignity
 
 258 A FISHER GIRL OF FRANCE. 
 
 as captain before the crew, and here he was this 
 night taking the place of a common sailor. 
 
 Was it really he ? In order to know certainly, 
 and to recognize the man by the sound of his voice, 
 Elise gave the usual call : 
 
 " Keep your eyes open there, in the bow." 
 
 There was no response. 
 
 " Who is on the lookout ? " 
 
 No answer. 
 
 "Is it not you, Cousin Florimond ?" 
 
 Then, suddenly, she nearly let go the tiller. The 
 heavy clouds had parted and the moon shone clear 
 through their rents. In the sudden light Elise saw 
 Florimond close to her. He was bent double and 
 was sneaking along in the shelter of the bulwarks. 
 
 Then, in spite of herself, she was afraid. She re- 
 membered the day when, face to face with him in 
 the capstan hatch, he had been so violent. 
 
 " What are you going to do, Cousin Florimond ? 
 I have not made you angry again, I suppose." 
 
 He stood erect ; he nearly touched her hand. 
 At that moment the silvery rays shone on the sail 
 behind him, and his huge broad figure stood out 
 grandly against its white background. 
 
 Around him on the deck everything was hidden 
 in the shadow. He looked almost more than human. 
 His chest curved outward between his arms squarely 
 set on his shoulders. His neck, with its strong 
 cords, supported his head proudly. His face was 
 strong, notwithstanding its pure oval. He was not 
 terrible, he was beautiful. 
 
 " What do you want of me, Cousin Florimond ?
 
 A FISHER GIRL OF FRANCE. 259 
 
 If I can grant it, I could never have the heart to re- 
 fuse." 
 
 " I want your promise to marry me, Lise. You 
 are the cleverest of the village girls, and I am the 
 strongest of the men. We would make a fine 
 couple, we two." 
 
 " Do you think so, cousin ? I am not worth your 
 notice." 
 
 " You saved me from the sea. You are the most 
 daring of any of the girls." 
 
 " I am only a poor lass, and not made for riches, 
 like you." 
 
 " You are made for me and I want you. I should 
 never find any one who would do me more credit." 
 
 " Why do you want me ? You do not like me at 
 all." 
 
 " I owe you my life. I want to pay my debt." 
 
 " We will talk later on. This is not the time for 
 it. Leave me to mind the helm." 
 
 " Listen, Elise, I want you. I believe that any 
 man might be proud to marry you." 
 
 In Florimond's eyes Elise caught the jealous 
 gleams which she feared. From the start, she had 
 tried to refuse him without speaking of her engage- 
 ment. She knew intuitively that she had but to 
 mention Silvere's name to rouse the jealousy of the 
 proud captain who had so suddenly become his 
 rival. 
 
 She made another attempt to avoid a clash. 
 
 " Return to your post, Cousin Florimond. If 
 there should be a collision we should be to blame." 
 
 " The other boats can look out for us."
 
 260 A FISHER GIRL OF FRANCE. 
 
 " We will watch all the same. It is our duty." 
 
 " You wish to put me off, Lise. Do you not know 
 me yet? If it is your Silvere who is in the way of 
 your marrying me, he can look out for squalls." 
 
 " Why do you threaten him ? Has he ever done 
 you any harm ? " 
 
 " He is a great soft, half-coward." 
 
 " On the contrary, he is braver and more generous 
 than any one." 
 
 She stopped, confused at this outburst, in which 
 her heart had spoken in spite of her lips. 
 
 She was not afraid for herself, for she did not be- 
 lieve her sturdy cousin would do a mean act. She 
 had known him when he was a child, the most beau- 
 tiful child in the village, and had seen him grow up 
 to be the handsomest man. She knew that he was 
 conceited, violent, and inconsiderate of others, but 
 she thought these were the traits of strong charac- 
 ters. She endowed him with manly virtues, she 
 thought him brave and incapable of common 
 crimes. 
 
 Nevertheless, she was uneasy on Silvere's account, 
 for he was not the kind of man to tolerate a rival, 
 and foreseeing a quarrel between them she resolved 
 to turn his anger on herself. 
 
 " Take your post, Cousin Florimond." 
 
 " No ! Give up Silvere. He is too lazy for 
 you." 
 
 And Cousin Florimond squared himself firmly on 
 his legs as if to make the contrast between them 
 more forcible. 
 
 "Go! Cousin Florimond."
 
 A FISHER GIRL OF FRANCE. 26 1 
 
 " Give him up, tonnerre! " 
 
 "Never! I have given him my word." 
 
 " So much the worse. It will cost you dear." 
 
 " It will not cost me enough to make me break 
 it." 
 
 " It will cost you your lover, Lise. Can he hold 
 his own against me ? " 
 
 " You have no right to quarrel with me about 
 him. When you despised me, he alone stood by 
 me. I should be unnatural if I were to forget his 
 Kindness. Take your post again, Cousin Flori- 
 mond. Silvere has my word, and he will have it as 
 long as I live." 
 
 " Enough. Tonnerre ! You are playing a game 
 to make me fall in love with you." 
 
 " He protected me against all the villagers. He 
 has a good heart and kindly ways. Do not speak to 
 me of marriage. He has given me his love. I have 
 given him mine." 
 
 " Hold your tongue. Are you trying to make me 
 kill him?" 
 
 " He is not afraid of you in the least, Cousin Flor- 
 imond. He has faced stronger men than you, and, 
 since you have no gratitude for what he has done 
 for you, I will talk to you as you deserve. You are 
 a better-looking man, but your face is disfigured by 
 passion. You ask my love, but you get only my 
 contempt. Do not speak to me ! Do not speak to 
 me!" 
 
 Florimond stepped toward her threateningly. 
 
 " You are too free with your tongue to-night, 
 Elise. You are trying to find out what one gets
 
 262 A FISHER GIRL OF FRANCE. 
 
 who braves me. For the last time I say it, give 
 up Silvere." 
 
 " No, I love him." 
 
 " Look out, then ! Tonnerre ! You've brought 
 it on yourself, girl." 
 
 And Florimond threw himself heavily on Elise, 
 crushing her with his sinewy ringers. 
 
 " Are you trying to kill me, because I would not 
 tell a lie?" 
 
 " Give him up !" 
 
 " Never, Cousin Florimond." 
 
 " Hold your tongue ! I do not know myself ! 
 You shall give him up ! Tonnerre! Give him up, 
 I say ! " 
 
 Not being able to force Elise to her knees, he 
 took a step backward to make a fresh attack. 
 
 " No ! Never never never ! " 
 
 During the instant that she was free she had 
 picked up something anything to defend herself 
 with, and handled it dexterously. 
 
 "Help, Silvere ! Help, Poidevin ! Help, all ! " 
 
 In an instant Florimond was on his back, pinned 
 to the ground by two hands and two knees, which 
 held him in spite of himself. He fought des- 
 perately, he breathed hard, and the shock, as his 
 back was forced down again and again to the deck, 
 fairly made it tremble. He sputtered with rage. 
 All the sailors came running, one after the other, 
 and bi<; Poidevin with them, puffing like a drunkard 
 waked too soon. 
 
 Pale, and overcome with surprise and fright, the 
 panic-stricken crowd stood there with wide-open
 
 SHE HAD PICKED UV SOMETHING ANYTHING TO DEFEND HERSELF. 
 
 Chap. 28.
 
 A FISHER GIRL OF FRANCE. 263 
 
 eyes, looking about to see if it was some strange 
 nightmare which had brought them, only half 
 awake, on deck. 
 
 "Do not let -him go, Silvere. He will do some 
 harm." 
 
 The sailors stood about, not daring to come near, 
 and fearing even to touch this man, who had so 
 strangely broken in on their sleep. 
 
 Barbet had wakened them. Stretched at length, 
 without strength, unable to lift himself, but feverishly 
 anxious, and hearing perhaps through the closed 
 hatch Elise's troubled voice, he had whined, but the 
 sleeping ears were deaf. Then, with a last effort, 
 he had howled loud enough to wake at once all 
 these snorers out of their heavy sleep. 
 
 And they had all rushed out, Silvere first, as he 
 thought of his betrothed. It was he who had 
 thrown Florimond down and was now holding him 
 fast. 
 
 He had a strong grip, this big fellow. His 
 timidity and his good-nature made him seem un- 
 certain and weak. He was so bashful with women 
 that he hardly dared to look into their eyes, and 
 when he approached Elise he made himself gentle, 
 as if to touch a child. But he was terrible at a 
 time like this, when he was angry at men like him- 
 self. Under his firm hold it went hard with 
 Florimond. 
 
 " Tie him up," said Poidevin suddenly. " We can- 
 not arrange a guard of men to watch him all the 
 time." 
 
 On shipboard they have a liking for summary
 
 264 A FISHER GIRL OF FRANCE. 
 
 measures. It is the easiest way to secure the safety 
 of the boat against mutineers. The sailors urged 
 on Silvere, and among them the survivors of the 
 Bon-Pcheur, old Quarrelsome and 'the Stutterer, 
 were the most furious. 
 
 " He is strangling already. Finish him, once for 
 all, Silvere." 
 
 Then Elise forced her way through the men to 
 where Florimond lay, and set him free. 
 
 " I do not want any one to be hurt on my account. 
 Take your place again, cousin. I will go back to 
 the helm, and Silvere will protect me."
 
 CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 " DRINK, I beg you, my old Barbet. Listen to 
 your Elise. Drink a little very slowly but at 
 least drink. You are all cold. It will warm you, 
 old Barbet." 
 
 She offered him some drops of brandy in the 
 palm of her hand. He paid no attention to it. 
 His lips were closed and shrivelled, a very bad sign. 
 On her return from the watch Elise had found him 
 lying stiff and without breath, as if his soul had 
 passed in his last cry of distress. 
 
 "You are just as you were at first, but you will 
 get better now, as you did then. If you will drink 
 you will get well, my old Barbet." 
 
 He lay motionless, and Elise watched him and 
 wept. 
 
 Poidevin was snoring: all the men were asleep 
 again. Florimond was seated on a box in the dark- 
 est corner of the room, half asleep, but the furrows 
 in his forehead, his compressed lips, and the twitch- 
 ings of his arms betrayed the feverish desire for 
 vengeance which filled his whole being. Silvere 
 alone watched by Elise's side. 
 
 He seized Barbet's jaws with his two hands and 
 tried with all his might to unlock them. The lips 
 opened a little and through them Elise succeeded 
 
 265
 
 266 A FISHER GIRI. OF FRANCE. 
 
 in slipping some drops of cordial, but they did not 
 produce a single tremor. 
 
 " It is not true. It is not true," she cried, and 
 from that moment she did not leave Barbet until 
 they were in port. 
 
 It was to Dieppe that the Jeune-Adolphine had 
 come to leave her fish. While the men hurried to 
 the nearest tavern, Elise made her way to the town 
 with Barbet in her arms. 
 
 She had sent Silvere to the sanitary bureau to 
 get the addresses of doctors, and the agent, think- 
 ing that it was some man who was ill, had given 
 him those of the principal physicians. 
 
 On seeing the curious patient they brought, one 
 laughed, another was angry, and all sent Elise 
 mournfully away without advice. From street to 
 street she carried the dog, mounting the steps in 
 vain, for everywhere she received the same re- 
 fusal. 
 
 Finally, the servant of one of these doctors, an 
 old woman who had more feeling than the younger 
 ones, told Elise of a man thoroughly skilled in the 
 care of beasts, who lived between the town and the 
 open fields, in a place sheltered from the sea winds, 
 where there was fresh air and grass. 
 
 " It will be fine for you here, my Barbet," said 
 Elise as she reached the door, " but can I have the 
 heart to leave you?" 
 
 Barbet did not answer. His head swung help- 
 lessly over Elise's arm, his glassy eyes could not 
 speak. The opinion was not favorable. The veter-
 
 A FISHER GIRL OF FRANCE. 267 
 
 inary made his diagnosis, screwing up his mouth 
 and nodding his head. 
 
 " He is dead. Leave him. I will bury him to- 
 morrow." 
 
 "Are you crazy, sir? Bury Barbet ! As if one 
 could find another friend like him ! I would give my 
 life for him, just as he would give his for me." 
 
 " It would be of no use. If he is not dead he is 
 the same as dead. He will be underground before 
 two days." 
 
 " Oh, no, sir! You will find out how to make him 
 well, for you are a doctor. I will pay all expenses. 
 The herring has furnished 
 
 She put Barbet quickly into Silvere's arms, and, 
 drawing from under her skirt a canvas bag, held it 
 up for the veterinary to see. 
 
 " The sale of the fish" will fill it. There will be 
 enough to pay you for curing Barbet." 
 
 Silvere interrupted, to promise still more. 
 
 "You are a couple of innocents," said the veter- 
 inary rudely. " Leave the dog with me." 
 
 " You will take me to board, too, sir. I am easy 
 to please." 
 
 It was hard work to convince Elise that a hospital 
 for animals was not a tavern ; the dog only was 
 taken. Fortunately there was an inn not faraway, 
 and Elise engaged a bed. She was going to live 
 there during the time it took to sell and deliver the 
 herrings. 
 
 She came hourly to the hospital door, rang the 
 bell boldly, troubling the concierge and the servants, 
 and even the master, to get news of Barbet. They
 
 268 A FISHER GIRL OF FRANCE. 
 
 refused her entrance under the plea of interfering 
 with his recovery, but she was so importunate that 
 the surgeon ended by being interested in a dog 
 which was the object of so firm a friendship. And 
 so Barbet was saved. He was on the high way to 
 recovery when the Jeune-AdolpJiine sailed. After 
 a more careful and patient examination than he 
 usually gave his patients, the veterinary had discov- 
 ered the state of the injury, applied the right rem- 
 edy and a solid dressing ; then he had turned the 
 animal over to Elise, dismissing her with a crabbed 
 good nature when she was persistent in trying to 
 pay for his care. She was carried away with de- 
 light. 
 
 " I was sure I should rescue you from death, my 
 old Barbet. When we fight for our friends, we are 
 strong against evil." 
 
 The Jeune-Adolphine was sailing briskly toward 
 her port. Barbet preferred the deck. He was in the 
 bow, stretched on a pile of nets and mops, and it was 
 thence that, six hours after leaving Dieppe, he saw 
 again the well-known bay, with its gray outlines 
 softened away into fog. Elise was near him. She 
 lifted his head gently, and from afar he made out 
 the white houses of the town behind the red sands 
 of the dunes. As he saw these dear sights, his eye, 
 so long bright with fever, recovered its limpid 
 serenity. 
 
 The sun was just setting when the Jeune-Adol- 
 phine appeared in the harbor. She had been sig- 
 nalled a half hour before, on entering the channel,
 
 A FISHER GIRL OF FRANCE. 269 
 
 and all those whose happiness was at risk with her, 
 were waiting on the pier, impatient for her landing. 
 Elise and Silvere saw Mother Pilote and good 
 Mother Loirat. They threw toward them a long, 
 joyful cry a cry of home-coming, the lightest and 
 most joyous of those which escape the human 
 breast. 
 
 They were to have a week on shore, and Elise 
 passed it in her cabin, caring for Barbet. She had 
 signed for the whole campaign, and could not think 
 of breaking her engagement. Barbet was too weak 
 yet to take up life on shipboard again, and their 
 separation was close at hand, for the Jeune-Adol- 
 phine was to sail in two days. 
 
 Elise was all the while in tears. She did not dare 
 to leave the dog to Mother Pilote, who could not 
 be depended on to watch a sick person. She wished 
 to leave him with Chretien. 
 
 Chretien had not gone to sea again. He had 
 yielded to the wishes of Mother Loirat, who had 
 been so greatly aged by her recent shock that she 
 preferred poverty to being left alone. He fished 
 from the beach, according to the season. It was a 
 wretched occupation, but a safe one at least. 
 
 Since Elise had returned home he often made his 
 way to her cabin. He would reach the house and 
 watch her through the windows a long time before 
 he knocked. As soon as he was within he would 
 seat himself and remain an hour or two without say- 
 ing anything, simply following her with his childlike 
 look.
 
 2 7 A FISHER GIRL OF FRANCE. 
 
 He had been there since noon, sitting in a corner 
 of the cabin, and more restless and more silent than 
 ever before. His eyes, naturally so quiet, were 
 lighted at intervals by strange gleams. He fixed 
 them longingly on the bridal bouquet, which, on the 
 sideboard under a glass globe, shone brilliantly with 
 its leaves of gold paper. Then he turned them to 
 Elise as if in some secret trouble. 
 
 " What is it, Chretien ? tell me. Perhaps I may 
 be able to comfort you." 
 
 She had no reply. She saw him look more earn- 
 estly than before at the bouquet, and then glance at 
 her with a sort of sweet supplication. He seemed 
 so sad, and to desire it so much, that she was not 
 able to resist the pleasure of granting his silent 
 prayer. 
 
 She ran to the sideboard, lifted the globe, took 
 the bouquet, and, blowing the dust off the leaves, 
 broke off the brightest and gave it to the young man. 
 
 "They say that it brings luck to lovers. Have 
 you then a promise, Chretien ? " 
 
 " I shall never marry." 
 
 " What are you saying ? You are especially made 
 for home life." 
 
 " No. I cannot hope to be happy, for you are to 
 marry another. I shall at least have the pleasure of 
 dying for you." 
 
 Elise was sitting by Barbet, and as she talked she 
 was running her fingers through his long hair, all 
 tangled like that of a sick person. At Chretien's 
 word, she rose in surprise, and withdrew her hand so 
 suddenly that she pulled out a tuft. Barbet did not
 
 A FISHER GIRL OF' FRANCE. 2 7 J 
 
 cry out, but he was not able to repress a little 
 whimper of pain. 
 
 " Is it possible that I hurt you, my old Barbet ? 
 You made me do it, Chretien, with your gloomy 
 talk." 
 
 And leaning toward the dog, she petted him con- 
 solingly. 
 
 Their confidential talk once broken, Chretien had 
 not another word to say. He stayed a long time, 
 abstracted and quiet, then, toward night, he went 
 out, throwing at Elise a long look of farewell. 
 
 " Chretien, where are you going ? Tell me." 
 
 He was already some distance away. She fol- 
 lowed him with her eyes for some seconds. He 
 went toward the dunes by the road that led to the 
 graveyard. Elise returned to Barbet and kissed his 
 forehead. 
 
 " Do not be restless, Barbet. Chretien had a 
 strange look about him. I want to find out what he 
 is going over there for." 
 
 She went out hastily and ran, for he was out of 
 sight. She did not catch sight of him again until 
 after she had climbed the top of the dune. He was 
 not alone. As nearly as she could distinguish in the 
 twilight, Florimond and big Poidevin were with him. 
 
 Nothing is so depressing as the coming of night. 
 Oppressed with forebodings, Elise quickened her 
 pace. What could bring them there, those three, 
 so late, on this gloomy road ? Could what she feared 
 be true ? 
 
 It was altogether improbable, she said ; but the 
 further she went the stronger grew her fears.
 
 272 A FISHER GIRL OF FRANCE. 
 
 She recalled the strange actions of Cousin Flori- 
 mond during the last few days. He was not a man 
 to acknowledge defeat, and since his return he had 
 renewed his attentions to her and his threats. He 
 took advantage of the absence of Silvere, who had 
 gone some distance into the country to announce 
 his approaching wedding to some old relatives, and 
 was delayed by business. But contrary to Flori- 
 mond's expectations he had met a new champion of 
 Elise's rights, for Chretien had been only too happy 
 to take up the duty of protecting her, if only for a 
 week. 
 
 Had the two men quarrelled ? At the very 
 thought Elise trembled with fear. She knew how 
 all these sailors' duels ended duels with knives and 
 without mercy. 
 
 She thought she should faint when she saw the 
 three figures disappear suddenly in the Crow's Hole. 
 They usually fought therein the ditch, the better to 
 keep them face to face and prevent either from 
 escaping. Elise tried to run, but her legs tottered 
 under her. She tried to cry out, to frighten them 
 by this approach of a stranger, but her voice died 
 away in her throat. 
 
 She heard the voice of Poidevin directing the 
 fight. 
 
 " To your work, lads. You know the custom. In 
 a case of gallantry you strike to kill." 
 
 There were some frightful instants of silence; 
 overhead the sea-gulls wheeled sea-gulls drawn by 
 the hope of blood ; then came Poidevin's voice judg-
 
 A FISHER GIRL OF FRANCE. 273 
 
 ing the blows. Then there was a hoarse clamor and 
 two voices cried together: 
 
 " His account is settled. Yes, You have ripped 
 him up like a sack." 
 
 " Who ! Chretien surely ! Poor Mother Loirat ! " 
 And seized by a tremor of unconquerable anguish 
 Elise fell prostrate on the sand. She had fainted. 
 
 " Ma'mselle Elise. It is I. Do you not know me ! 
 The bouquet has brought me luck." 
 
 Elise came to herself in the arms of Chretien, who 
 carried her to her cabin. 
 
 " Fear no longer, Ma'mselle Elise. Florimond 
 will never trouble you again. He had sworn to kill 
 Silvere."
 
 CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 THE Jeune-AdolpJiine did not sail the next day. 
 A good fellow, after all, Poidevin had a tender 
 heart. Immediately after the fight, of which he had 
 been a witness, he had gone to the tavern to drown 
 his emotion, and he had drowned it so effectively 
 that his reasoning faculties had gone with it. 
 
 Wandering through the town and tired of knock- 
 ing at all the doors whose bolts would not move for 
 his key, he had ended by occupying a very soft bed 
 which he found in a damp ditch by the roadside. 
 When the next morning they lifted him up, muddy 
 and with water-cress in his beard and hair, he was 
 helpless. His fat alone had saved him from a worse 
 fate. Howling with rheumatism, he kept his bed 
 for a month, while the Jeune-Adolphine waited im- 
 patiently in the harbor. 
 
 Silvere wished to take advantage of this respite 
 and be married. On his recent trip he had re- 
 covered some important sums lent by his father to 
 his country relatives. He was in easy circumstances 
 as far as money was concerned. What was there to 
 wait for. 
 
 They must wait for Barbet to get well. At least 
 so Elise thought. She would not have a happy 
 wedding if her old friend did not assist. 
 
 274
 
 A FISHER GIRL OF FRANCE. 275 
 
 " Hurry and get well, my poor Barbet. I want 
 you for a witness." 
 
 And a witness he was. Poidevin's illness con- 
 tinued beyond the doctor's expectations ; the days 
 grew into weeks. The end of October was at hand 
 and the Jeune-Adolphine could not hope to go 
 fishing before the new year. Already the sailors 
 were dismantling her. They were not now driven 
 by the fear of having to sail, and Elise herself began 
 to wish for the long-announced marriage. 
 
 "Hurry to get well, Barbet. You will not put 
 us off until winter, will you ?" 
 
 For a fortnight Barbet had moved about the 
 room, dragging his hind legs behind him. His 
 strength came back very slowly. 
 
 " You will not be able to dance at the wedding, 
 you poor old crippled Barbet." 
 
 He did not object to any remedies, salt baths, 
 rubbings, tonics, but, much as he wished it, he 
 could not get well. At last, near All Saint's Day, 
 after hours of attempts which cost him many a 
 twinge, he managed to stand on his four feet and 
 walk. He tried it twenty times before Eiise. 
 
 " You walk well now, my old Barbet." 
 
 And the wedding was fixed for the Saturday 
 after Saint Martin's Day. On that day the sky was 
 clear at the sun rising, with that blue of autumn 
 which pales as it nears the horizon. The south 
 wind blew softly, while the gray crows, the larks, 
 the starlings, the green finches, and all the birds of 
 passage filled the air with joyous cries. 
 
 At daybreak Elise went with Silvere to the grave-
 
 276 A FISHER GIRL OF FRANCE. 
 
 yard to invoke from her parents the first of the 
 benedictions she was to receive that day. She 
 slowly climbed the dune road, supported by him 
 whom she was so soon to accept before men and 
 for eternity as her only master, her protector, and 
 her husband. 
 
 Half-way up she stopped. Below her the gulf 
 hid beneath its scintillations the deep abyss, but as 
 she saw it from afar, so laughing and so treacherous, 
 Elise had not the tremors of other days. One is 
 not afraid of what one knows. 
 
 " Silvere," she said simply, " one clings closer to 
 happiness when one has fought for it." 
 
 Then she threw a last glance beyond the gulf to- 
 ward England, and her breast swelled with emotion 
 at the remembrance. Her thoughts flew toFirmin, 
 the lad of her choice, whom she had loved so much. 
 Notwithstanding all, she reproached herself for leav- 
 ing him. She said to herself that soon other cares 
 would take all her time, and some day, perhaps, she 
 would have children of her own who would awake 
 in her new inquietude and new duties. 
 
 Silvere watched her, lost in this far-off revery. 
 She lifted her eyes to his unconsciously, and seeing 
 that he divined her thoughts tried to hide them in a 
 smile. But he quickly reassured her. 
 
 "You will always love your Firmin, will you not ? 
 Since he is your brother he shall be mine, Lise. In a 
 household all friendships should be shared." 
 
 After the blessings of the relations, comes that of 
 the mayor. The procession left the cottage, Silvere
 
 A FISH EX GIRL OF FRANCE. 277 
 
 at its head, very handsome in his new clothes, with 
 his brown hat and his blue shirt with a heart em- 
 broidered on it. Radiantly happy, Mother Pilote, 
 hanging on the arm of her great son, trotted gaily 
 along in her holiday costume of red skirt and green 
 shawl. 
 
 Elise was married in white. That is the rule for 
 young girls. She marched second in the procession, 
 and took no one's arm in order that she might have 
 Barbet beside her. 
 
 He advanced gravely, as was due to the occasion. 
 The night before, on seeing them bring her white 
 dress and crown of orange blossoms, he had foreseen 
 this holiday, and had given Elise no peace until she 
 had taken out from the chest his tarnished lace and 
 chevrons. He had insisted on her rubbing and pol- 
 ishing them for more than an hour, and attired to 
 his taste he yielded place to no one. 
 
 Then came Silvere's relatives and Chretien and 
 Mother Loirat ; finally M. Emite, who half-disap- 
 peared under a huge bouquet of chrysanthemums all 
 tied up in white ribbons. It was the gift of the com- 
 missaire of Saint-Valery, and M. Emile thought it 
 so beautiful that he wanted to carry it all day. It 
 took both his arms to hold it, and he had to lean his 
 head back so far that twenty times he nearly lost his 
 high hat, which had been all newly polished. 
 
 The mayor received the company with his best 
 smile. He pretended to accept Barbet as witness, and 
 the dog acted his part and responded to each in- 
 quiry the same as the others. When asked, according 
 to the usual formula, " Do you agree to take Silvere
 
 27** A FISHER GIRL OF FRANCE. 
 
 Pollene here present for your husband? " Elise an- 
 swered softly in her sweet voice. Barbet, doubtless 
 judging the "Yes" not said with sufficient firmness 
 and vigor, treated it by his loudest bark. 
 
 He was not provoked, when, as they left the 
 mairie, Elise took Silvere's arm. He kept through 
 the whole walk his own company, instead of going 
 with Mother Pilote, whom they tried to make him 
 take as companion. 
 
 Mother Pilote herself was so full of smiles, so fool- 
 ishly happy, that she amused herself by trying to rec- 
 oncile Barbet to his new companion. 
 
 "You will not make anything by changing, Bar- 
 bet. What do you expect ? From youth to age ; 
 it is always so in life." 
 
 It was worse still for Barbet at the church. He 
 entered quietly, like a person of importance. The 
 beadle tried to drive him out ; he showed his teeth. 
 Then Elise, without thinking of her white dress, 
 took him boldly up and carried him out to the Place. 
 She made up, to console him, such wheedling ex- 
 cuses and faithful promises, that he was content. 
 
 They met again happily after the ceremony. All 
 the town was assembled along the route and, under 
 showers of flowers which the girls flung, in the midst 
 of the firing of guns and letting off of powder with 
 which the young men of the village deafened them, 
 between the congratulations of the old people and the 
 cries of wondering children, the company walked to 
 Silvere's house for the mid-day meal. Then, faith- 
 ful to custom, after it they set out again for the 
 fields.
 
 A FISHER GIRL OF FRANCE. 279 
 
 Animals were grazing in the meadows fresh from 
 the autumn rains. Elise recognized those through 
 which she had run on that mournful night. They 
 were still green with the aftermath, while beyond 
 them, in place of ripening wheat and blossoming 
 flowers, the new-ploughed ground awaited the seed 
 that was to bring a fresh crop. 
 
 The procession, led by two violins and a fife, who 
 had asked the honor of taking part, kept its ranks a 
 long time. 
 
 Silvere overtopped by a head all his relatives and 
 friends, and thus overlooking all, he did not lack 
 dignity. Besides, since he was assured of Elise, he 
 had gained in ease. His long arms and big hands, 
 which were so embarrassing to him before, assumed 
 a fresh and nearly natural grace. 
 
 He held Elise by the hand after the fashion of 
 village lovers, and did not speak. These simple 
 souls knew how to love and be silent. He marched 
 along, looking about with the astonished gaze of the 
 sailor, to whom all rural things are strange. But in 
 the pressure of Elise's hand he felt a delicious 
 tremor which stirred his heart like a caress. 
 
 They reached the first village ; some cottages 
 half-hidden away among trees. They were ex- 
 pected. On the steps of the tavern the young girls 
 in their Sunday dresses offered them cake and beer 
 in exchange for small silver. It is a tradition of the 
 district. Elise was expected to drink with Silvere. 
 She just wet her lips and handed the glass to her 
 husband, who emptied it at a draught, as if he were 
 drinking the aroma of her he loved. Then they ate
 
 280 A FISHER GIRL OF FRANCE. 
 
 together of the cake, exchanging a glance of infinite 
 sweetness, a glance in which could be read the 
 thoughts of their hearts. Henceforth to them all was 
 to be in common, sorrow, joy, strength and weak- 
 ness, good and evil, all the life of the body and the 
 life of the soul. 
 
 It was the same at tavern after tavern. Accord- 
 ing to the custom they could not skip one. They 
 stopped, drank, paid, and took up their march, but 
 the procession began to lose its first regularity. 
 The young people grew animated and kept step 
 with the violins as they entered the villages. Then 
 Silvere and Elise led off the marriage march. But 
 when, overcome with delight at his happiness, he 
 held her close or, leaning toward her, brushed the 
 hair on her forehead, she gently and delicately dis- 
 engaged herself and ran to the mothers, whose age 
 made them fall far behind. She embraced them 
 and encouraged them, taking the occasion to smile 
 at M. Emile and Barbet. 
 
 These two shared the end of the procession with 
 the old people, the little clerk perspiring under his 
 bouquet, the dog a little stiff in his legs. 
 
 Chretien alone of all did not seem happy. His 
 steel-gray eye, as it turned toward Elisc, seemed 
 full of a plaintive sorrow. One cannot cure them- 
 selves of a heart wound in a day. 
 
 The supper, the real wedding feast, had been or- 
 dered at the sailor's tavern. Elise had not been 
 willing that Mother Pilote should have the fatigue 
 of it. At the great table, where the mugs of beer 
 and the white dishes sparkled under the lamps, each
 
 A FISHER GIRL OF FRANCE. 281 
 
 one was seated according to his merit and rank. 
 The happy pair were midway, opposite the mayor, 
 then the witnesses and the relatives. The young peo- 
 ple were at each end. There was no fish served ; they 
 had enough of that every day. When they were 
 tired of the meat courses, bottles of old cider were 
 emptied, frothing, into the glasses. It was the 
 happy moment when the satisfied stomach sets the 
 tongue free. Barbet himself, on his seat beside 
 Elise, notwithstanding the majesty of his dress, 
 shared the general talk. 
 
 Suddenly the door opened, allowing the entrance 
 of a noisy crowd, who elbowed one another in their 
 haste, as if pushed from behind. In the front were 
 Old Quarrelsome and the Stutterer, and the other 
 sailor of the Bon-Pecheur the three whom Elise 
 had saved. They bore their present, a little sloop, 
 which they had made together. The first had 
 carved the hull, the second had put in the masts and 
 the rigging, the third had added the sails and painted 
 it in bright colors. The name, Bon-Ptckeur, was on 
 its stern, with the date, as a souvenir. 
 
 A souvenir in which there was blended some sad- 
 ness. The last survivor of the Bon-Pecheur, Flori- 
 mond, was not there. But he was alive. The blow 
 of the knife which he had received would have killed 
 twenty ordinary men. Fighting hard for life, he had 
 recovered, but he was disfigured by a gash from his 
 forehead to his chest. No longer able to be the 
 handsomest captain on that coast, he had left it, and 
 become a ship-owner at Calais. 
 
 The three advanced to offer their present. The
 
 282 A FISHER GIRL OF FRANCE. 
 
 Stutterer wished to speak, Old Quarrelsome tried to 
 prevent him, and it was the third man, who, finding 
 nothing to say, gave the boat to the bride, kissing 
 her hands as he did so. 
 
 Then four big fellows entered. They had been 
 selected for their strength ; a sailor, a coastguard, a 
 fisherman, and one of the villagers, representing the 
 different occupations of the town. Elbowing one 
 another, they arranged themselves behind Elise's 
 chair. 
 
 The mayor arose. He was not an orator, but a 
 dealer in spirits, a good fellow with red cheeks and 
 close-cut gray hair. He spoke simply. The whole 
 town wished to make a festival for Elise, in order to 
 make up to her in one day for the injustice she had 
 suffered so many weeks. He made a sign. The 
 four men had already seized the bride's chair. 
 
 " Wait. I have not executed my commis- 
 sion." 
 
 And making his way under the table, the little 
 hunchback laid his bouquet on Elise's knees. 
 
 " Untie it, madame. I am too happy." 
 
 When the ribbons were unfastened, the bouquet 
 fell apart into two clusters, in the center of each of 
 which was pinned an envelope. The first she 
 opened was an appointment for Silvere as assistant 
 pilot. 
 
 The shouts and stampings which greeted this 
 news were repeated like a happy echo on the stairs, 
 then in the room below and on the Place. 
 
 Elise trembled as she opened the other envelope. 
 She found in it a letter, and when she had run
 
 A FISHER GIRL OF FRANCE. 283 
 
 through it her eyes shone, her cheeks reddened, 
 and, seeing before her the happy face of the little 
 hunchback, she seized him with both hands and em- 
 braced him with all Her heart. 
 
 It was a letter from Firmin. It announced that 
 he had passed the first of the steps that were to lead 
 him to fortune. His good work and his progress at 
 the school on board had distinguished him. He was 
 a midshipman. 
 
 Then the mayor gave the signal again. The 
 four big fellows carried Elise out. Her husband 
 and the guests followed. 
 
 The Place, so gloomy when the wedding party 
 had passed through it before the feast, had been 
 transformed. It was in festal array. In the centre 
 a mast, wreathed with flowers and surrounded with 
 three tiers of lanterns, marked the place for the 
 ball ; the place where, many months before, the as- 
 sembled villagers had stoned her in whose honor 
 they were soon to dance. 
 
 Before opening the quadrille they drank to her 
 health. The mayor, who was generous as well as 
 rich, had furnished the liquor without charge. 
 Each one had brought his glass and filled it at one 
 of the casks, broached at the four corners of the 
 Place. It was arranged that they should fall in line 
 and pass before the bride and groom to clink 
 glasses and drink to their health, but country peo- 
 ple do not know how to do things. They did not 
 fall in line. They pressed and crowded one another 
 so that the glasses were half-emptied on the dresses 
 and jackets. They had to go back and fill and
 
 284 A FISHER GIRL OF FRANCE. 
 
 empty them again, but this time they emptied 
 them standing by the cask. 
 
 And when they had drunk they danced. The 
 night was cold, but they could 'warm themselves at 
 the casks. 
 
 Long before midnight the old people went to bed. 
 Elise had left the ball for more than an hour then, 
 to accompany Mother Pilote, the poor old woman 
 whose only child she was taking. 
 
 "Do not weep, Mother Pilote. You have not 
 lost a son : you have gained a daughter." 
 
 She had been happy all day, but on finding her- 
 self alone in her house, the old woman was sud- 
 denly seized with sadness. 
 
 " Do not weep, Mother Pilote, you have two 
 children to love you now, instead of one." 
 
 These outbursts of filial affection only made the 
 separation more painful, and when Elise returned to 
 the dancers she was still a little sober and quiet. 
 
 Toward morning the young people escorted the 
 newly married pair home. On the steps of the cot- 
 tage Elise embraced all the girls, her companions. 
 After the farewells, Silvere wished her to enter first 
 through the wide-open door. She turned to see if 
 Barbet had followed, for in the noise of the dance 
 they had forgotten him. But Barbet was not there, 
 and all who were waiting until the door closed on 
 them set out to hunt for him. Elise and Silvere 
 found him on the step of the house in which Chre- 
 tien lived. 
 
 . " What are you doing there, old Barbet ? Are you 
 hurt at me for having forgotten you ? "
 
 SHE WISHED TO CARRY HIM AWAY. 
 
 Chap. 30.
 
 A FISHER GIRL OF FRANCE. 285 
 
 He tried to answer with a look. Elise could not 
 understand at all. She wished to carry him away, 
 and made him many excuses, prayers, and caresses. 
 But he was firm against all. 
 
 That which he wanted to say she understood 
 later. Since henceforth she had another one devoted 
 to her service, since she was to be loved and pro- 
 tected all her life, Barbet could no longer serve her. 
 He would take up his old life as a dog of the coast 
 guard and the village. He would signal the in- 
 coming boats and take the children to school. 
 
 " Lise, let us leave him. Without doubt he is 
 jealous because you are married." 
 
 She raised her beautiful, thoughtful eyes to Sil- 
 vere and saw him all smiling with love. Then, hurt 
 by this unspeakable trouble, yielding half-con- 
 sciously to this new call of her spirit and carried 
 away by the intoxication of this new happiness, she 
 forgot her companion of evil days, her always firm 
 friend, and for the first time in her life was unjust to 
 Barbet. She thought him untrue and jealous. 
 
 But four years later, when she was the mother of 
 two boys and the day came for the elder, her little 
 Baptiste, to go to school, Barbet became his pro- 
 tector. Vigilant and faithful, the dog gave the son 
 the same tender care which formerly he had given 
 the mother. Then only did Elise understand Bar- 
 bet. Devoted to the cause of the weak and afflicted, 
 he would have failed of his destiny if he had stayed 
 with her. The new master he had chosen, a master 
 gentle and unhappy, Chretien, sustained by his 
 friendship, found once more that life was sweet. He
 
 286 A FISHER GIRL OF FRANCE. 
 
 had become a coast guard, and had taken the place 
 in the eyes of the village of Barbet's first master, 
 the dead captain. 
 
 But Barbet had not waited for this far distant 
 time to take up his old work, and each night when 
 he brought home her little Baptiste, well kept and 
 watched, Elise kissed on his nose this good friend. 
 
 " I am ashamed to have misunderstood you, Bar- 
 bet. Are you not always right ? " 
 
 THE END.
 
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