Victor went successively to Morlaix, to Dunkirk, and to Brighton;
whenever he returned from a trip he would bring her a present. The first
time it was a box of shells; the second, a coffee-cup; the third, a big
doll of ginger-bread. He was growing handsome, had a good figure, a tiny
moustache, kind eyes, and a little leather cap that sat jauntily on the
back of his head. He amused his aunt by telling her stories mingled with
nautical expressions.
One Monday, the 14th of July, 1819 (she never forgot the date), Victor
announced that he had been engaged on a merchant-vessel and that in two
days he would take the steamer at Honfleur and join his sailer, which
was going to start from Havre very soon. Perhaps he might be away two
years.
The prospect of his departure filled Felicite with despair, and in order
to bid him farewell, on Wednesday night, after Madame's dinner, she put
on her pattens and trudged the four miles that separated Pont-l'Eveque
from Honfleur.
When she reached the Calvary, instead of turning to the right, she
turned to the left and lost herself in coal-yards; she had to retrace
her steps; some people she spoke to advised her to hasten.
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