Every moment her feet caught in the brown trailing plants, tangled like hair, which were sea-weeds littering the pathway.
At the Cross of Plouezoc'h she bade good-bye to the old man, and begged him to return.

The lights of Paimpol were already in view, and there was no more occasion to be afraid.
So hope was over for this time.

Who could tell her when she might see Yann again?
An excuse to return to Pors-Even would have been easy; but it would really look too bad to begin her quest all over again.

She would have to be braver and prouder than that.

If only her little confidant Sylvestre had been there, she might have asked him to go and fetch Yann, so that there could be some explanation.