She hears soft, irresolute footsteps.
Old Dan, of small stature, slim, a coughing old man with a clean-shaven face, comes out from behind the church.

Because of his irresoluteness, or because of the weakness of his eyes, he steps uncertainly, touching the ground cautiously and with a certain degree of fear.
"Oho! Oho!" "Is that you, Dan ?" "The sea is calm, Dan.

Are you going to play to-night ?" "Oho! I shall ring the bell seven times.

Seven times I shall ring it and send to God seven of His holy hours." He takes the rope of the bell and strikes the hour--seven ringing and slow strokes.

The wind plays with them, it drops them to the ground, but before they touch it, it catches them tenderly, sways them softly and with a light accompaniment of whistling carries them off to the dark coast.
"Oh, no!" mutters Dan.