She wanted to go over toward her, but her knees seemed to grow weak
and she was afraid of falling.
But the maid had seen her and came forward with her usual calm manner
and said: "How do you do, madame? Here I am back again, but not
without some difficulty."
"Well?" faltered Jeanne.
"Well," answered Rosalie, "she died last night. They were married and
here is the little girl." And she held out the child, who could not be
seen under her wraps.
Jeanne took it mechanically and they left the station and got into the
carriage.
"M. Paul will come as soon as the funeral is over--to-morrow about
this time, I believe," resumed Rosalie.
Jeanne murmured "Paul" and then was silent.
The wagon drove along rapidly, the peasant clacking his tongue to urge
on the horse. Jeanne looked straight ahead of her into the clear sky
through which the swallows darted in curves. Suddenly she felt a
gentle warmth striking through to her skin; it was the warmth of the
little being who was asleep on her lap.
Then she was overcome with an intense emotion, and uncovering gently
the face of the sleeping infant, she raised it to her lips and kissed
it passionately.
But Rosalie, happy though grumpy, stopped her; "Come, come, Madame
Jeanne, stop that; you will make it cry."