"These sorrows which I have every day to concern myself about I could not endure if they fell on my own heart. I could not have seen one of my children die without dying myself. And I have, in spite of everything, preserved such an obscure and penetrating fear of circumstances, that the sight of the postman entering my house makes a shiver pass every day through my veins, and yet I have nothing to be afraid of now."
The Abbé Mauduit ceased speaking. He stared into the fire in the huge grate, as if he saw there mysterious things, all the unknown portion of existence which he would have been able to live if he had been more fearless in the face of suffering.
He added, then, in a subdued tone:
"I was right. I was not made for this world."
The Comtesse said nothing at first; but at length, after a long silence, she remarked:
"For my part, if I had not my grand-children, I believe I would not have the courage to live."
And the curé rose up without saying another word.
As the servants were asleep in the kitchen, she conducted him herself to the door which looked out on the garden, and she saw his tall shadow lit up by the reflection of the lamp disappearing through the gloom of night.
Then she came back and sat down before the fire, and she pondered over many things on which we never think when we are young.