Presently Rose became tired; he stopped the cart and helped her into it. Nicole got down and waiked beside him.
'There is the sea,' she said. 'You have not very far to go now, monsieur.'
'Not very far,' he said.
'You are glad?'
He glanced at her. 'I should be very, very glad, but for one thing,' he said. 'I would like you to be coming with us. Would you not do that?'
She shook her head. 'No, monsieur.'
They walked on in silence for a tune. At last he said: 'I shall never be able to thank you for what you have done for us.'
She said: 'I have benefited the most.'
'What do you mean?' he asked.
She said: 'It was a very bad time when you came. I do not know if I can make you understand.' They walked on in the hot sun in silence for a time. 'I loved John very much,' she said simply. 'Above all things, I wanted to be an Englishwoman. And I should have been one but for the war. Because we meant to marry. Would you have minded that very much?'
He shook his head. 'I should have welcomed you. Don't you know that?'
She said: 'I know that now. But at the time I was terribly afraid of you. We might have been married if I had not been so foolish, and delayed.' She was silent for a minute. Then John - John was killed. And at the same time nothing went right any more. The Germans drove us back, the Belgians surrendered, and the English ran back to their own country from Dunkerque and France was left to fight alone. Then all the papers, and the radio, began to say bad things of the English, that they were treacherous, that they had never really meant to share the battle with us. Horrible things, monsieur."
'Did you believe them?' he asked quietly.
She said: 'I was more unhappy than you could believe.'
'And now? Do you still believe those things?'
She said: 'I believe this, that there was nothing shameful in my love for John. I think that if we had been married, if I had become an Englishwoman, I should have been happy for the remainder of my life.'
She paused. 'That is a very precious thought, monsieur. For a few weeks it was clouded with doubts and spoilt. Now it is clear once more; I have regained the thing that I had lost. I shall not lose it again.'
They breasted a little rise, and there before them lay the river, winding past the little group of houses that was l'Abervrach, through a long lane of jagged reefs out to the open sea. The girl said: That is l'Abervrach. Now you are very near the end of your journey, Monsieur Howard.'
They walked in silence, leading the horse, down the road to the river and along the water-front, past the cement factory, past the few houses of the village, past the lifeboat-house and the little quay. Beside the quay there was a German E-boat apparently in trouble with her engines, for a portion of her deck amidships was removed and was lying on the quay beside a workshop lorry; men in overalls were busy on her. A few German soldiers lounged on the quay, watching the work and smoking.
They went on past the estaminet and out into the country again. Presently they turned up the hill in a lane full of sweet-briar, and so came to the little farm of Loudeac.
A peasant in a rusty red canvas pullover met them at the gate.
Howard said: 'From Quintin.'
The man nodded and indicated the midden. 'Put it there,' he said. 'And then go away quickly. I wish you good luck, but you must not stay here.'
That is very well understood.'
The man vanished into the house, nor did they see him again. It was getting towards evening; the time was nearly eight o'clock. They got the children down out of the cart and backed the horse till the load was in the right place to tip; then they tipped the wagon and Howard cleared it with a spade. In a quarter of an hour the job was done.
Nicole said: There is time enough, and to spare. If we go now to the estaminet, we can get supper for the little ones - coffee, perhaps, and bread and butter.'
Howard agreed. They got into the empty cart and he jerked up the horse; they moved out of the stable yard and down the road towards the village. At a turn of the road the whole entrance to the harbour lay before them, sunny and blue in the soft evening light. In the long reach between the jagged rocks there was a fishing-boat with a deep brown lug sail coming in from the sea; faintly they heard the putter of an engine.
The old man glanced at the girl. 'Focquet,' he said.
She nodded. 'I think so.'
They went on down to the village. At the estaminet, under the incurious glances of the German soldiers, they got out of the cart; Howard tied the bridle of the old horse to a rail.
Ronnie said in French: 'Is that a torpedo-boat? May we go and see it?'
'Not now,' said Nicole. 'We're going to have supper now.'
'What are we going to have for supper?'
They went into the estaminet. There were a few fishermen there standing by the bar, who looked at them narrowly; it seemed to Howard that they had divined his secret as soon as they set eyes on him. He led the children to a table in a far corner of the room, a little way away from the men. Nicole went through to the kitchen of the place to speak to Madame about supper for the children.
Supper came presently, bread and butter and coffee for the children, red wine mixed with water for Nicole and the old man. They ate uneasily, conscious of the glances at them from the bar, speaking only to assist the children in their meal. It seemed to Howard that this was the real crux of their journey; this was the only time when he had felt his own identity in question. The leaden time crept on, but it was not yet nine o'clock.
Their meal finished, the children became restless. It was still not nine o'clock, and it was necessary to spin out time. Ronnie said, wriggling in his chair: 'May we get down and go and look at the sea?'
It was better to have them out of the way than calling fresh attention to the party in the estaminet. Howard said: 'Go on. You can go just outside the door and lean over the harbour wall. Don't go any farther than that.'
Sheila went with him; the other children stayed quiet in their seats. Howard ordered another bottle of the thin red wine.
At ten minutes past nine a big, broad-shouldered young man in fisherman's red poncho and sea boots rolled into the estaminet. One would have said that he had visited competitive establishments on the way, because he reeled a little at the bar. He took in all the occupants of the estaminet in one swift, revolving glance like a light-house.
'Ha!' he said. 'Give me a Pernod des Anges, and to hell with the sale Boche.'
The men at the bar said: 'Quietly. There are Germans outside.'
The girl behind the bar wrinkled her brows. 'Pernod des Anges? It is a pleasantry, no doubt? Ordinary Pernod for m'sieur.'
The man said: 'You have no Pernod des Anges?'
'No, m'sieur. I have never heard of it.'
The man remained silent, holding to the bar with one hand, swaying a little.
Howard got up and went to him. 'If you would like to join us in a glass of the rouge,' he said.
'Assuredly.' The young man left the bar and crossed with him to the table.
Howard said quietly: 'Let me introduce you. This is my daughter-in-law, Mademoiselle Nicole Rougeron.'