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.
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