When the sun was well up the women who had been at mass gathered down by the little river which runs through the old city, to wash their clothes. They knelt on the broad stones by the edge of the water, chattering and singing, tossing the soap from one to another.
There was a sudden silence. "Here she is again," they whispered, as a slight, delicate woman crossed the bridge with steady steps.
"She is blind and deaf," said old Barbe. "I met her an hour ago and asked her whom she sought. She did not see nor hear me, but walked straight on."Oliver Bauzy was lounging near, as usual, watching his wife work.
"She is English. What does she know of your Breton talk?
I speak English and French--I!" he bragged, and walking up to Mrs. Waldeaux, he flourished his ragged hat, smiling. "Is madame ill? She has walked far," he said kindly.
The English words seemed to waken her. "It is always the town," looking around bewildered. "The people--houses.
I think I am not well. If I could find the woods----"Bauzy had but a hazy idea of her meaning, but he nodded gravely. "She is a tourist. She wants to go out of Vannes--to see the chateaux, the dolmens. I'm her man.
I'll drive her to Larmor Baden," he said to his wife. "Ihave to go there to-day, and I may as well make a franc or two. Keep her until I bring the voiture."But Frances stood motionless until the old wagon rattled up to the water's edge.
"She has a dear old face," Bauzy's wife whispered.
"She is blind and deaf, I tell you," old Barbe grumbled, peering up at her. "Make her pay, Oliver, before you go."Bauzy nodded, and when Frances was seated held out his hand.
"Twenty francs," he said.
She opened her bag and gave them to him.
"She must be folle!" he said uneasily. "I feel like a thief. Away with you, Babette!" as a pretty baby ran up to him. "You want to ride? That is impossible.
Unless, indeed, madame desires it?" lifting the child to place her on the seat. Babette laughed and held out her hands.
But Mrs. Waldeaux shrank back, shuddering. "Take her away," she whispered. "She must not touch me!"The mother seized the child, and the women all talked vehemently at once. Oliver climbed into the voiture and drove off in silence. When he looked around presently he saw that the woman's face was bloodless, and a cold sweat stood on it.
He considered a while. "You want food," he said, and brought out some hard bread and a jug of Normandy cider.
Frances shook her head. She only spoke once during the morning, and then told him something about a woman "whom no child could touch. No man or woman could touch her as long as she lived. Not even her son."As Bauzy could make nothing of this, he could only nod and laugh civilly. But presently he, too, grew silent, glancing at her uncomfortably from time to time.
They drove through great red fields of sarasson, hedged by long banks of earth, which were masses of golden gorse and bronzed and crimson ferns. The sun shone, the clover-scented air was full of the joyous buzzing of bees and chirp of birds.
"It is a gay, blessed day!" Bauzy said, thanks to the good God! "He waited anxiously for her reply, but she stared into the sunshine and said nothing.
Larmor Baden is a lonely little cluster of gray stone huts on the shore of the Morbihan sea. Some of Bauzy's friends lounged smiling up to welcome him, waving their wide black hats with velvet streamers, and bowing low to the lady. Oliver alighted with decision. One thing he knew: He would not drive back with her. Something was amiss. He would wash his hands of her.
"Here, madame, is Vincent Selo, paysageur," he said rapidly in French. "He has a good boat. He will take you where you desire. Sail with her to Gavr' Inis," he said to Selo, "and bring her back at her pleasure.
Somebody can drive her back to Vannes, and don't overcharge her, you robbers!""Gavr' Inis?" Frances repeated.
"It is an island in the sea yonder, madame. A quiet place of trees. When there was not a man in the world, evil spirits built there an altar for the worship of the devil. No men could have built it. There are huge stones carried there from the mountains far inland, that no engine could lift. It is a great mystery.""It is the one place in the world, people say,"interrupted Selo, lowering his voice, "where God never has been. A dreadful place, madame!"Frances laughed. "That is the place for me," she said to Selo. "Take me there."The old man looked at her with shrewd, friendly eyes, and then beckoned Bauzy aside.
"Who is she? She has the bearing of a great lady, but her face hurts me. What harm has come to her?""How do I know?" said Bauzy. "Go for your boat. The sea is rising."Late in the afternoon M. Selo landed his strange passenger upon the pebbly beach of the accursed island.
He led her up on the rocks, talking, and pointing across the sea.
"Beyond is the Atlantic, and on yonder headland are the great menhirs of Carnac--thirty thousand of them, brought there before Christ was born. But the Evil One loves this island best of all places. It has in it the mystery of the world. Come," he said, in an awed voice. "It is here."He crossed to the hill, stooped, and entered a dark cave about forty feet long, which was wholly lined with huge flat rocks carved with countless writhing serpents. As Frances passed they seemed to stir and breathe beside her, at her feet, overhead. The cave opened into a sacrificial chamber. The reptiles grew gigantic here, and crowded closer. Through some rift a beam of melancholy light crept in; a smell of death hung in the thick, unclean air.
Selo pointed to a stone altar. "It was there they killed their victims," he whispered, and began to pray anxiously, half-aloud. When he had finished, he hurried back, beckoning to her to come out.
"Go," she said. "I will stay here."
"Then I will wait outside. This is no place for Christian souls. But we must return soon, madame.
My little girl will be watching now for me."
