The mother winced.
"But yes," she said.
"Then you will know how to be brave."
Mme. Deschamps' lips trembled.
"Is it my boy?" she asked anxiously, turning to Horace.
"He is not killed, Madame," said the boy, chokingly.
"He is hurt! He is dying!"
"No, Madame," Horace answered, "the doctor said that he would soon get well. But—"
The master's wife intervened.
"Your son will need you now more than ever before," she said softly. "He is not lost to you. He is closer to you."