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BOOK VII THE DANGER OF OPENING A BOOK AT RANDOM I THE PEARL AT THE FOOT OF THE PRECIPICE A few moments after his short colloquy with Sieur Landoys , Gilliatt was at St . Sampson . He was troubled , even anxious . What could it be that had happened . There was a murmur in St . Sampson like that of a startled hive . Everybody was at his door . The women were talking loud . There were people who seemed relating some occurrence and who were gesticulating . A group had gathered around them . The words could be heard , “ What a misfortune ! ” Some faces wore a smile . Gilliatt interrogated no one . It was not in his nature to ask questions . He was , moreover , too much moved to speak to strangers . He had no confidence in rumours . He preferred to go direct to the Bravées . His anxiety was so great that he was not even deterred from entering the house . The door of the great lower room opening upon the Quay , moreover , stood quite open . There was a swarm of men and women on the threshold . Everybody was going in , and Gilliatt went with the rest . Entering he found Sieur Landoys standing near the doorposts . “ You have heard , no doubt , of this event ? ” “ No . ” “ I did not like to call it out to you on the road . It makes me like a bird of evil omen . ” “ What has happened ? ” “ The Durande is lost . ” There was a crowd in the great room . The various groups spoke low , like people in a sick chamber . The assemblage , which consisted of neighbours , the first comers , curious to learn the news , huddled together near the door with a sort of timidity , leaving clear the bottom of the room , where appeared Déruchette sitting and in tears . Mess Lethierry stood beside her . His back was against the wall at the end of the room . His sailor’s cap came down over his eyebrows . A lock of grey hair hung upon his cheek . He said nothing . His arms were motionless ; he seemed scarcely to breathe . He had the look of something lifeless placed against the wall . It was easy to see in his aspect a man whose life had been crushed within him . The Durande being gone , Lethierry had no longer any object in his existence . He had had a being on the sea ; that being had suddenly foundered . What could he do now ? Rise every morning : go to sleep every night . Never more to await the coming of the Durande ; to see her get under way , or steer again into the port . What was a remainder of existence without object ? To drink , to eat , and then ? — He had crowned the labours of his life by a masterpiece : won by his devotion a new step in civilisation . The step was lost ; the masterpiece destroyed . To live a few vacant years longer ! where would be the good ? Henceforth nothing was left for him to do . At his age men do not begin life anew . Besides , he was ruined . Poor old man !
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