“Les vertus se perdent dans l’intérêt comme les fleuves se perdent dans la mer.”
Mademoiselle Veuillot and M. Deshoulières stood by the bedside silent. Noticing her a little curiously, he fancied there was more awe than grief in her countenance: it was white and troubled; but there had been enough in the night’s vigil to account for that. She stood looking sadly down, her hands knitted together, the morning light full on her face. Grey eyes with long lashes, a mouth delicately lined, a round forehead, neither straight nor classical, but full of a certain sweet nobility, with waved brown hair lying softly and lightly upon it. He looked at her with a half-pitying, half-uneasy sense of guardianship. She was so girlish, so fragile, so dependent. “What am I to do with her!” thought M. Deshoulières, despairingly.
Aloud he said, so abruptly that she started,—
“You have been much tried, mademoiselle. Let me urge you to go and lie down.”
Old Nannon came round from the foot of the bed. Thérèse hesitated, half turned to the door, then back again towards the motionless figure. At such a time the first departure seems almost a cruelty to the dead. M. Deshoulières laid his hand on her arm. “Come,” he said, decidedly.
He led her into the adjoining talon, and closed the door of communication, but instead of leaving him, as he anticipated, she walked to the window and looked out at the fresh sweet morning, at the lights that were flooding the yellow stone of the Cathedral. It was all very solemn and tranquil as yet, although the town was just wakening to life. There was nothing harsh, nothing that seemed to jar upon the quiet repose of the figure that indeed should never more be vexed by earth’s discordant din. Thérèse stayed there, and looked out for some minutes. It may be that she was gaining courage to speak, for when she turned round her voice was a little tremulous.
“Before I go, will you, who have been so good a friend to us, tell me whether my poor uncle spoke of—of Fabien, his nephew?”
“M. Fabien Saint-Martin? But certainly. He spoke much of him.”
“Ah!”