(French of George Le Faure: I. S: For Short Stories.)
Every day there came down to the long stone wharf a smiling fair-haired
girl of seven, followed by an old, old man.
The child carried a spy-glass, hugging it in her arms as if it were a
doll, and she skipped along gaily till she reached the end of the pier.
Then she handed the long glass to her companion, and resting her chubby
little hands on the cold stone coping, looked wistfully out to sea.
With the soft breeze blowing her hair about her shoulders, and her eyes
fixed searchingly on the horizon she stood perfectly silent until a
tiny white speck appeared in the far distance where sea and sky seemed
to mingle.
“A sail, a sail!” she cried, and the old man sat down and laid the
spy-glass upon his arm.
Breathless and eager, the child grasped the brass tube with both hands
and peered through it without speaking. After a few minutes, however,
she said with a sigh of disappointment: “Not yet, grandpa,” and
returning patiently to her post resumed the watch until another sail
appeared.
This was kept up hour after hour, and when the sun, a golden ball,
had slipped behind the rising billows, and a soft mist rose from the
sea, the child turned round, her little face saddened, and walked away
slowly at the old man’s side.
One day I spoke to an old sailor and asked about the child.
“That is Jeannette,” he said, taking his short clay pipe out of his
mouth, “her father was killed eighteen months ago; the mast of his boat
fell on him, and since the day his body was carried home, she has never
been the same. She does not think that he is dead, and every afternoon
her grandfather has to bring her down here to watch for him.”
He tapped his head expressively, and, as a merry laugh sounded, a smile
of tenderness softened his rugged features.
I looked up and saw Jeannette coming as usual, carrying the telescope,
and skipping gleefully before the old man.
“How sad, how sad!” I murmured with a sigh, but the old sailor shook
his head; putting his pipe into his mouth hastily he puffed out a cloud
of smoke to hide the tears that had gathered in his eyes, and answered
softly--“God is good. She will never know, and so she will never cease
to hope.”