“But the Countess checked his words. With the beautiful calm of the dying for whom death has no terrors she smiled up into his face.
”‘Not too late,’ she whispered; ‘in time—just in time, say rather, my boy. I think God has let me live for this. I think I should have died some days ago but for a strange hope that you would come. You will take her home to your mother, Pierre; she will love my Edmée as her own child. I cannot see into the future—I am too tired to think. But she will be safe with you, safer than anywhere else. O God, I thank Thee!’
“Her words were scarcely audible—she had to stop between every two or three. She did not seem surprised to see Pierre, nor did she ask why he did not come before. Her spirit was already on the wing, only, as it were, recalled, or held back, by her great mother-love. And not for Edmée alone. After a pause, during which Pierre, kneeling beside her, murmured, amidst his sobs, his most solemn promises to devote his life, his strength, his everything to the girl so soon to be orphan and alone—promises which seemed to increase the soft peace on the dying face—she glanced round as if seeking some one.
”‘Edmond, my poor Edmond!’ she whispered; ‘him too—you will be kind to him too, Pierre?’
”‘God helping me, I will,’ said Pierre.
”‘Where are you, Edmond? Give me your hand,’ she said.
“The poor boy came from behind the thin curtain of the bed, where he had hidden.
”‘Take me with you, auntie—little aunt, who has been my only true mother!’ he said, in an agony of tears. ‘No one will care for me now. I am not strong enough to protect Edmée as I fain would, and she will not want me. Oh, cannot you ask God to take me too—weak and useless that I am?’
“Even in the extremity of her own grief Edmée’s generous heart was touched. She drew Edmond round to where she and Pierre were kneeling, and threw her arm round his thin shoulders.
”‘I love you, my poor Edmond. I will always love you, and we will all take care of you.’