Today would be the day. Yesterday had already been good,  but  today  there  was
the exact right amount of clouds in the sky and  birds  were  singing  a  better
tune. Even the screeching of the seagulls was  today,   if  not  a  full-fledged
member of a symphony orchestra, at least  an  amateur  playing  along  with  the
radio in his own kind of cool way.

Michel laughed dryly at his fantasies and  started  examining  the  contents  of
his knapsack again. Sandwiches for lunch, flask for drinking water,  binoculars,
mandola in it's bag and  a  small  wooden  box,   for  Her.   Michel  threw  the
knapsack on his back and started walking down the  stony  path  to  the  harbor.

The harbor was already alive this early. The sailors,   seasoned  in  the  salty
air were stowing their ships and the  seawater  was  foaming  under  the  piers.
Michel made his way through the sailors to his usual spot  at  the  great  stone
wall, where he could easily see each ship arriving and  leaving.   One  of  them
would bring Her in today, Michel was sure.

Michel sat down and took out his mandola. The first song needed to  be  a  happy
one, the extra energy was needed in the  morning.   The  sounds  glided  in  the
clear air, and sure enough, as the last notes still hung in the air,  the  first
arriving  ship  glided  into   view    from    behind    the    western    cape.

Michel stood up and dug up  his  binoculars.   The  ship  was  sailing  under  a
red-green flag, surely a good sign. It usually took ship about a  half  hour  to
reach the piers from where they were first visible. Michel was  too  excited  to
sit down as he waitied. Something wasn't right, however,  he  couldn't  see  Her
on the deck of the ship.

The ship reached the harbor and a few dozen passengers filed out.   Michel  kept
his binoculars fixed on the pier, until he was  absolutely  sure  that  She  was
not among them.   No  reason  to  panic,   the  first  ship  would've  been  too
improbable anyway, Michel said to himself.

Michel  played  another  song,   a  slightly  slower  but  never-the-less  happy
number. A second ship glided into view from behind the cape  and  Michel  looked
into his binoculars again. She, however, was not among the  passengers  of  this
ship either. Slightly dismayed, but still hopeful,  Michel  settled  into  place
to eat his sandwiches.

In the afternoon there were three more ships.  Michel  played  a  new  song  for
each one, but She was not to be seen. As the night darkened, Michel  packed  his
knapsack again and returned up the hill to his cottage. He put  the  mandola  on
it's stand and took out the small wooden box. He opened it  and  took  a  moment
to look at the golden chain and the shining pendant. For  seven  long  years  he
had waited for the one, who was to have it.

Michel put the pendant back in the box and set the box on top of  his  chest  of
drawers  and  went  to  bed.    Tomorrow    would    surely    be    the    day.