“Yes,” he answered. “He will die, of course, sooner or later.”
“You speak calmly, Monsieur,” she said.
“Such cases are an old story,” he replied. “And—you are not his wife?”
“No.”
“I thought not. Nevertheless, perhaps you will remain with him until—”
“As Monsieur says,” she returned, “I will remain with him ‘until—’”
When the sick man awoke from the sleep into which he had fallen, a fire burned in the stove and a woman’s figure was seated before it.
“You are here yet?” he said faintly. She rose and moved toward him.
“I am not going away,” she answered, “if you will permit me to remain.”
His eyes shone with pathetic brightness, and he put out his hand.