Volume V Part 20 (1/2)

”You would feel ain

”Let soo for papa, directly,” she said as if she had not heard what he said; and he went out of the rooer to Rouen

Jeanne sank into a sort of stupor, as if she aiting to give way to her passion of regret until she should be alone with her mother The room became filled with shadows The Widow Dentu ht, and at last lighted two candles which she placed at the head of the bed on a small table covered with a white cloth Jeanne see until she should be alone

When he had dined, Julien caain and asked for the second ti to eat?”

His wife shook her head, and he sat down lookingmore They all three sat apart from one another; the nurse dropped off to sleep every now and then, snored for a little while, then aith a start After some time Julien rose and went over to his wife

”Do you still want to be left alone?” he asked

She eagerly took his hand in hers: ”Oh, yes; do leave me,” she answered

He kissed her on the forehead, whispered, ”I shall coht,” then went aith the Widow Dentu, heeled her armchair into the next room

Jeanne closed the door and put both ide open A warm breeze, laden with the sweet smell of the hay, blew into the room, and on the lahich had been rass lying in the ht She turned away from theand went back to the bed, for the soft, beautiful night seeer swollen as she had been when she died; she looked simply asleep, only her sleep was more peaceful than it had ever been before; the windshadows ain As Jeanne gazed at it theinto herin the convent parlor, holding out the bag of cakes she had brought for her little girl; she thought of all her little ways, her affectionate words, the way she used to hed, the deep sigh she always heaved when she sat down, and all her little, daily habits, and as she stood gazing at the dead body she kept repeating, almost mechanically: ”She is dead; she is dead;” until at last she realized all the horror of that word

The wo there--mamma--little mother--Madame Adelade, was dead! She would never , Jeannette”; never sit opposite her husband at the dinner table again She was dead She would be enclosed in a coffin, placed beneath the ground, and that would be the end; they would never see her again It could not be possible! What! She, her daughter, had now no mother! Had she indeed lost for ever this dear face, the first she had ever looked upon, the first she had ever loved, this kindly loving mother, whose place in her heart could never be filled? And in a few hours even this still, unconscious face would have vanished, and then there would be nothing left her but aher hands and pressing her lips to the bed

”Oh,mother!” she cried, in a broken voice which was stifled by the bed-covering

She felt she was going ht she had fled into the snow She rushed to theto breathe the fresh air which had not passed over the corpse or the bed on which it lay The nen hay, the trees, the waste land and the distant sea lay peacefully sleeping in the ht, and the tears welled up into Jeanne's eyes as she looked out into the clear, calht She went back to her seat by the bedside and held herill instead of dead Attracted by the lighted candles, a big, winged insect had entered through the openand was flying about the rooainst the wall at every moment with a faint thud It disturbed Jeanne, and she looked up to see where it was, but she could only see its shadowsuddenly ceased, and then, besides the regular ticking of the clock, Jeanne noticed another fainter rustling noise It was the ticking of her otten when her dress had been taken off and thrown at the foot of the bed, and the idea of this little piece ofwhile her h her heart She looked at the tiht of the long night to coan to think of her own life--of Rosalie, of Gilberte--of all her illusions which had been, one by one, so cruelly destroyed Life contained nothing buttrue, nothing honest, nothing but what gave rise to suffering and tears Repose and happiness could only be expected in another existence, when the soul had been delivered frohts turned to the unfathomable mystery of the soul, but, as she reasoned about it, her poetic theories were invariably upset by others, just as poetic and just as unreal Where was now her mother's soul, the soul which had forsaken this still, cold body? Perhaps it was far away, floating in space But had it entirely vanished like the perfu like soe? Had it returned to God, or was it scattered aht be very near; perhaps in this very roo around the inaniht Jeanne fancied she felt a breath, as if a spirit had passed by her Her blood ran cold with terror; she did not dare turn round to look behind her, and she satwildly

At that , noisy flight, and Jeanne trenized the noise, she felt a little reassured, and rose and looked around Her eyes fell on the escritoire with the sphinxes' heads, the guardian of the ”souvenirs” As she looked at it she thought it would be fulfilling a sacred, filial duty, which would please her mother as she looked down on her froht have done a holy book during this last watch

She kneas the correspondence of her grandfather and grandmother, whom she had never known; and it seemed as if her hands would join theirs across her mother's corpse, and so a sacred chain of affection would be forhter who had but just joined them, and her child as still on earth

She opened the escritoire and took out the letters; they had been carefully tied into ten little packets, which were laid side by side in the lowest drawer A refinement of sentimentality prompted her to place thean to read

They were old-fashi+oned letters with the perfume of another century about them, such as are treasured up in every family The first co”; then cahter,” then ”My dear child”--”My dear Adelade”--”My dear daughter,” the co as the letters had been addressed to the child, the young girl, and, later on, to the young wife They were all full of foolish, loving phrases, and news about a thousand insignificant, hoer, would have seemed too trivial to er; Croquerat, the cat, is dead; the fir tree which stood on the right-hand side of the gate has been cut down;home from church, she thinks someone must have stolen it,” and they talked about people whouely familiar to her

She was touched by these simple details which seehts to her She looked at the corpse as it lay there, and suddenly she began to read the letters aloud, as though to console and gladden the dead heart once ht up the face As she finished reading the to place them all in her mother's coffin

She untied another packet These were in another handwriting, and the first ran thus:

”I cannot live without your kisses I love you nature Jeanne turned the paper over, unable to understand it It was addressed clearly enough to ”Madame la baronne Le Perthuis des Vauds”