Then they disappeared from sight.
Some minutes later, when Jean trotted up on his horse, he was filled with terrible consternation.
"What—what has happened?" he cried.
Françoise had opened her eyes, but still lay rigidly motionless. She gazed at Jean for a long time with her great troubled eyes, but she said nothing. Her mind seemed to be far away, absorbed in thought.
"You are wounded! You are bleeding! Speak to me, I beseech you!"
Then he turned to old Fouan, who had at length ventured to approach.
"You were here? Tell me what has happened!"
Then Françoise spoke, but very slowly, as though she were thinking of what she should say.
"I came to cut some grass—I fell on to my scythe—it went into me here. Oh, it's all over with me!"