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 stones mingled with nautical expressions.
One Monday, the 14th of July, 1819 (she never forgot the date),
Victor announced that he had been engaged on 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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