She rose and brushed her hair, and then dressed as if she might fairly
expect him. All then was not lost, if a seaman, his own father, did
not yet despair. And for a few days she resumed looking out for him
again.
Autumn at last arrived,--a late autumn too,--its gloomy evenings making
all things appear dark in the old cottage; and all the land looked
sombre too.
The very daylight seemed a sort of twilight; immeasurable clouds,
passing slowly overhead, darkened the whole country at broad noon. The
wind blew constantly with the sound of a great cathedral organ at a
distance, but playing profane, despairing dirges; at other times the
noise came close to the door, like the howling of wild beasts.
She had grown pale,--aye, blanched,--and bent more than ever; as if old
age had already touched her with its featherless wing. Often did she
finger the wedding clothes of her Yann, folding them and unfolding them
again and again like some maniac,--especially one of his blue woolen
jerseys which still had preserved his shape: when she threw it gently
on the table, it fell with the shoulders and chest well defined; so she
placed it by itself in a shelf of their wardrobe, and left it there, so
that it might forever rest unaltered.
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