These words, which seemed like an exaltation to Heaven, had exhausted her; she sank back on the mattress and sighed. Perrine waited ... waited. Her mother did not speak. She was dead. Then the child left the bedside and went out of the house. In the field she threw herself down on the grass and broke into sobs. It seemed as though her little heart would break.
It was a long time before she could calm herself. Then her breath came in hiccoughs. Vaguely she thought that she ought not to leave her mother alone. Someone should watch over her.
The field was now filled with shadows; the night was falling. She wandered about, not knowing where she went, still sobbing.
She passed the wagon for the tenth time. The candy man, who had watched her come out of the house, went towards her with two sugar sticks in his hand.
"Poor little girl," he said, pityingly.
"Oh!..." she sobbed.
"There, there! Take these," he said, offering her the candy. "Sweetness is good for sorrow."