It was the wolf who picked it up, and when he gave it back to her, he said,—
"I weep for you, my mother."
"Strike!" cried the crowd; for what remained of Pol and Matheline uttered terrible groans. "Strike! strike!"
While Josserande again seized her axe, the grand abbot had time to say,—
"Do not complain, you two unhappy ones; for your suffering here below changes your hell into heaven."
Three times Josserande raised the axe, three times she let it fall without striking; but at last she said, in a hoarse tone that sounded like a death-rattle, "I have great faith in the good God!" and then she struck boldly, for the wolf's head split in two halves.
XIII.
A sudden wind extinguished the torches, and some one prevented Dame Josserande from falling, as she sank fainting to the ground, by supporting her in his arms.
By the light of the halo which shone around the blessed head of Gildas the Wise, the good people saw that this somebody was the young tenant, Sylvestre Ker, no longer lame and one-eyed, but with two straight legs and two perfect eyes.
At the same time there were heard voices in the clouds chanting. And why? Because heaven and earth quivered with emotion at witnessing this supreme act of faith soaring from the depth of anguish in a mother's heart.