"You will never leave me," sobbed the poor woman, straining him to her breast. She was pensive and thoughtful. In one angle of the room stood a disused fire-place, with a rusty grate and broken chimney-piece; in the other there was a sort of box, contrived between the wall and the boards, that looked like an apology for a cupboard. But you have looked after me very well, and we will not allow this Gérard, who makes me all the time excessively angry, you understand, to make trouble between us. It isn’t the same thing. Briefly explained, she was as the child who discards the rag baby for the living one. I did what I could to comfort her but she died in terrible pain. Heaven alone knows why. ‘She knows what she’s up against. Making her couch upon a heap of hay, she sank at once into a deep and refreshing slumber. ” “I believe you,” she murmured.
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