Then, drawing closer, ‘Glowing even.’

‘You wanted him handsome; I’ve coated him in palm oil.’

‘Good, I like him. I’ll take him.’

The priest translated the terms of the transaction into the Breton language for Botquelen, who, rather absent-mindedly, approved, but he added a further term in his native language which appeared to be a determining factor for him.

‘He would like it expressed in the notarised deed that you shall have drawn up in Brest that half the amount to be received upon signature be paid to Corentine Malgorn, the girl who asked him for his hand. He says to tell you that he is off to say his farewells to her and that he will join you when the boat is due to leave.’

‘Did I hear correctly: the girl who asked him for his hand..

The priest gave a resigned sigh.

‘Yes indeed, they do that too!’

At around 5 o’clock in the evening, Jules was back on board the lugger, watching the island recede into the distance.

He imagined he was one of those explorers in the Jules Verne novels of which he was so fond. Those travellers you assumed must be mad when, upon returning home, they tried to recount all they had seen during their extravagant adventures.

An island where the women asked the men for their hand in marriage: who would have believed such a thing? He promised himself he would one day return to this land of plenty or at least would set down his adventures to sell to a few Parisian rags.

He was no longer afraid of running aground. He was in a lyrical mood in this grandiose setting, as those seasoned sailors guided him through the danger. He contemplated the handsome five-foot-six specimen he was bringing back to his family and congratulated himself on offering the army such a fine recruit. How fortunate they were to have the common people to carry on the ancient vigour of the French race, for if they had to rely on the bourgeoisie – where the only things growing anymore were feeble saplings such as his brother-in-law, Auguste – they were a long way from winning that confounded war against Prussia.

As for Breval, who had never set foot on the mainland, he could not begin to imagine what the world might be like; Paris or the moon . . . He decided to curl up in a corner of the boat in his Sunday best, and let himself float away on the memory of the sweet warmth of Corentine’s body, having just made love to her for the first time.

Chapter 6

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