Part 113 (2/2)
”Maurice,” said the priest, gently, ”be calm. Courage!”
He turned with an expression of complete bewilderment upon his features.
”Yes,” he faltered, ”that is what I need--courage!”
He staggered; they were obliged to support him to an arm-chair.
”Be a man,” continued the priest; ”where is your energy? To live, is to suffer.”
He listened, but did not seem to comprehend.
”Live!” he murmured, ”why should I desire to live since she is dead?”
The dread light of insanity glittered in his dry eyes. The abbe was alarmed.
”If he does not weep, he will lose his reason!” he thought.
And in an imperious voice, he said:
”You have no right to despair thus; you owe a sacred duty to your child.”
He recoiled with a heart-broken cry.
The recollection which had given Marie-Anne strength to hold death at bay for a moment, saved Maurice from the dangerous torpor into which he was sinking. He trembled as if he had received an electric shock, and springing from his chair:
”That is true,” he cried. ”Take me to my child.”
”Not just now, Maurice; wait a little.”
”Where is it? Tell me where it is.”
”I cannot; I do not know.”
An expression of unspeakable anguish stole over the face of Maurice, and in a husky voice he said:
”What! you do not know! Did she not confide in you?”
”No. I suspected her secret. I alone----”
”You, alone! Then the child is dead, perhaps. Even if it is living, who can tell me where it is?”
”We shall undoubtedly find something that will give us a clew.”
”You are right,” faltered the wretched man. ”When Marie-Anne knew that her life was in danger, she would not have forgotten her child. Those who cared for her in her last moments must have received some message for me. I wish to see those who watched over her. Who were they?”
The priest averted his face.
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