A Fisher Girl of France by Fernand Calmettes

Silvere returned rich, for some time at least, for the _Jeune-Adolphine_ 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 overflowings 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 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 village. 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 forsaken me."

"But if your father should not 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 hidden 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.

As Elise and Silvere came near, some one crawled out, bent double and creeping on all fours, as if to escape observation.

"What is Barnabé after there? He is not likely to find any great chance to do mischief in this sandy waste. Ho! Barnabé?"

But Barnabé 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 looking threateningly at me."

And Elise leaned more closely and more timorously 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.