The bare idea of looking him face to face at the foot of those stairs, made her tremble; and her heart beat as if it would break.

At any moment the door below might open, with the squeak she knew so well, to let him out! "No, no, she never would dare; rather would she die of longing and sorrow, than attempt such an act." She already made a few return steps towards the back of her room, to regain her seat and work.

But she stopped again, hesitating and afraid, remembering that to-morrow was the sailing day for Iceland, and that this occasion stood alone.

If she let it slip by, she would have to wait through months upon months of solitude and despair, languishing for his return--losing another whole summer of her life.
Below, the door opened--Yann was coming out! Suddenly resolute, she rushed downstairs, and tremblingly stood before him.
"Monsieur Yann, I--I wish to speak to you, please." "To me, Mademoiselle Gaud ?" queried he, lowering his voice and snatching off his hat.
He looked at her fiercely, with a hard expression in his flashing eyes, and his head thrown back, seeming even to wonder if he ought to stop for her at all.

With one foot ready to start away, he stood straight up against the wall, as if to be as far apart from her as possible, in the narrow passage, where he felt imprisoned.
Paralyzed, she could remember nothing of what she had wished to say; she had not thought he would try and pass on without listening to her.