Maurice Leblanc

“ And she whispered:
“Oh, as to those, they have been guarding the island for centuries and centuries, but like wild beasts that only care for doing harm and killing. They... they... no, it's better never to speak about them or even think of them. They are the thirty wild beasts. Yes, thirty, Madame Veronique, there are thirty of them....”
She made the sign of the cross and continued, more calmly:
“There are thirty of them. Your father says that Sarek is called the island of the thirty coffins because the people instinctively ended in this case by confusing the two words ecueils and cercueils. ”

“ Not even in the worst hours, when the nightmares of the past haunt one like spectres, never did she consent to revive, in the innermost recesses of her mind, that degrading past, with its mortifications, wounds and betrayals, and the disgraceful life led by her husband, who, shamelessly, with cynical pride, gradually revealed himself as the man he was, drinking, cheating at cards, robbing his boon companions, a swindler and blackmailer, giving his wife the impression, which she still retained and which made her shudder, of a sort of evil genius, cruel and unbalanced. ”

“ He comes scrambling from the top of the cliffs where we live and runs down to the jetty.”
“So I shall see him?” exclaimed Veronique, turning very pale.
“You will see him. Fold your veil double, so that he may not know you from your photographs. I'll speak to you as I would to a stranger who has come to look at Sarek.”
They could see the island distinctly, but the foot of the cliffs was hidden by a multitude of reefs.
“Ah, yes, there's no lack of rocks! They swarm like a shoal of herring!” cried Honorine, who had been obliged to switch off the motor and was using two short paddles. ”

“ Three women, a little girl and some old seafaring men were waiting for the boat, but no boy, no red cap.
“That's strange,” said Honorine, in a low voice. “It's the first time that he's failed to answer my call.”
“Perhaps he's ill?” Veronique suggested.
“No, Francois is never ill.”
“What then?”
“I don't know.”
“But aren't you afraid?” asked Veronique, who was already becoming frightened.
“For him, no... but for your father. Maguennoc said that I oughtn't to leave him. It's he who is threatened.”
“But Francois is there to defend him; and so is M. Maroux, his tutor. ”

“ A break in the cliffs opens here, protected by the little jetty. The sea at this spot is perfectly calm.
Two boats lay moored to the quay.
Before landing, Honorine made a last effort:
“We're there, Madame Veronique, as you see. Now is it really worth your while to get out? Why not stay where you are? I'll bring your father and your son to you in two hours' time and we'll have dinner at Beg-Meil or at Pont-l'Abbe. Will that do?”
Veronique rose to her feet and leapt on to the quay without replying. Honorine joined her and insisted no longer:
“Well, children, where's young Francois? ”

“ The Benedictines built an abbey there.”
“But he's not alone there, is he, with Francois and M. Maroux?”
“Before the war, there were two men besides. Lately, Maguennoc and I used to do pretty well all the work, with the cook, Marie Le Goff.”
“She remained, of course, while you were away?”
“Yes.”
They reached the top of the cliffs. The path, which followed the coast, rose and fell in steep gradients. On every hand were old oaks with their bunches of mistletoe, which showed among the as yet scanty leaves. The sea, grey-green in the distance, girded the island with a white belt. ”

“ Veronique, following Honorine's example, crossed herself and could not help shuddering as she said:
“How melancholy it is! There's not a flower on this desolate plateau.”
“They grow most wonderfully when one takes the trouble. You shall see Maguennoc's, at the end of the island, to the right of the Fairies' Dolmen... ”