They traversed the whole length of the house, and on into André's room; there Rousille made way for her father to enter first. He did not go far into the room; he looked at the undisturbed bed, and that sufficed to make him understand.
For a moment he remained motionless, tears blinding him; then, staggering, turned towards the courtyard, on the threshold, clinging to the doorposts for support, he took a long breath, as if to call into the night, but only a stifled, scarce audible sound escaped him:
"My Driot!"
And the noble old man, struck by the bitter cold, fell backwards in a swoon.
At that instant from the other end of the house Mathurin, swearing, and striking head and crutches against the walls and furniture, came struggling along.
"Lend me a hand, Rousille," he cried, "I must see what is going on!" Rousille was kneeling beside her father, kissing him amid her tears. The farm-servant, roused by the noise, came through the yard with a lantern.
CHAPTER XIV.
DWELLERS IN TOWNS.
The farmer soon recovered consciousness. Sitting up, he looked about him, and hearing Mathurin moaning and saying: "He is dead!" answered: "No, my boy, I am all right," then with the aid of the farm-servant he went back to his bed.