When he said: “He had a hole in his stomach—you could put your two fists into it,” she gave vent to a sort of shriek, and the tears gushed forth again from her eyes.
Then, seized by the contagion of her grief, César began to weep, too, and as tears always soften the fibers of the heart, he bent over Emile whose forehead was close to his own mouth and kissed him.
The mother, recovering her breath, murmured:
“Poor lad, he is an orphan now!”
“And so am I,” said César.
And they ceased to talk.
But suddenly the practical instinct of the housewife, accustomed to be thoughtful about many things, revived in the young woman's breast.
“You have perhaps taken nothing all the morning, Monsieur César.”
“No, Mam'zelle.”
“Oh! you must be hungry. You will eat a morsel.”