They had but a few minutes more.
The doctor alone remained standing.
The flakes of snow falling on him had sprinkled him with white tears, and made him visible on the background of darkness. He might have been the speaking statue of the shadow.
The doctor made the sign of the cross and raised his voice, while beneath his feet he felt that almost imperceptible oscillation which prefaces the moment in which a wreck is about to founder. He said,—
"Pater noster qui es in coelis."
The Provençal repeated in French,—
"Notre Père qui êtes aux cieux."
The Irishwoman repeated in Gaelic, understood by the Basque woman,—
"Ar nathair ata ar neamh."
The doctor continued,—