"Oh!" she said with an accent impossible to render; "God! Be blessed!"
And, kneeling on the ground, she burst into tears. The missionary watched her anxiously, ready to help her if her extreme emotion caused her to break down. After a few moments she rose smiling through her tears, and took her place again by the priest's side.
"Oh!" she said eagerly, "he is my son, the only being I ever loved; the child I nursed at my breast, and I am going to see him again! Alas! We have been separated for ten years—for ten years the mark of my kisses has been effaced from his forehead. You cannot understand what I feel, father—it cannot be explained; to a mother her child is everything."
"Do not let your emotion overpower you."
"Then, he is coming?" she repeated eagerly.
"In two hours at the most."
"What a long time two hours are!" she said with a sigh.
"Oh! all human creatures are like that," the missionary exclaimed. "You, who waited so many years without complaining, now find two hours too long."
"But I am waiting for my son, my beloved child; I cannot see him soon enough."
"Come, calm yourself, you are quite in a fever."