“Not I, but God, Monseigneur,” he replied.
“They said she was dying,” said Monsieur Grossetete, “but she is dead; there is nothing left of her but spirit.”
“A soul,” said Gerard.
“And yet she is still the same,” cried the procureur-general.
“A stoic after the manner of the Porch philosophers,” said the tutor.
They walked in silence the whole length of the balustrade, looking at the landscape still red with the declining light.
“To me who saw this scene thirteen years ago,” said the archbishop, pointing to the fertile plain, the valley, and the mountains of Montegnac, “this miracle is as extraordinary as that we have just witnessed. But how comes it that you allow Madame Graslin to walk about? She ought to be in her bed.”
“She was there,” said Madame Sauviat; “for ten days she did not leave it; but to-day she insisted on getting up to take a last look at the landscape.”
“I can understand that she wanted to bid farewell to her great creation,” said Monsieur de Grandville; “but she risked expiring on this terrace.”
“Monsieur Roubaud told us not to thwart her,” said Madame Sauviat.