She could not bear it. She rushed in desperate panic to find Rémy.
It was in the moment before dawn; the birds in the garden and park were waking; the halls and stairs were still dark. She thought she never would find him; then she thought he must be in the kitchen, where the village people were huddled together.
She found him there, talking to them quietly.
There was a girl who had St. Vitus dance; she sat by the big kitchen table, one of her hands, that would not keep still, thumping and thumping the table. Claire was afraid to go into the kitchen.
Rémy came out into the passage to her, and shut the kitchen door behind him.
The lamp was still burning in the passage.
She caught his hands; and suddenly she had buried her face in his shoulder and was crying.
"There, there," he said, patting her hair.
She sobbed, clinging to him.
"You have been so brave," he said, "poor child."