afeeling
foolish
and
wicked
,
that
the
good
God
sought
now
to
chasten
.
Any
way
she
knew
that
she
must
yield
it
up
and
go
and
ask
for
something
;
or
else
those
four
small
things
,
that
were
like
a
cluster
of
red
berries
on
a
leafless
tree
,
must
suffer
and
must
perish
.
“
It
is
bitter
,
but
I
must
do
it
,
”
she
thought
.
“
Sure
it
is
strange
that
the
good
God
cares
to
take
any
of
us
to
himself
through
so
sharp
a
way
as
hunger
.
It
seems
,
if
I
saw
His
face
now
,
I
should
say
,
‘Not
heaven
for
me
,
Monseigneur
:
only
bread
and
a
little
wood.’
”
And
she
rose
up
on
her
bent
stiff
limbs
,
and
went
to
the
pile
of
hay
on
which
the
children
were
lying
,
pale
and
thin
,
but
trying
to
smile
,
all
of
them
,
because
they
saw
the
tears
on
her
cheeks
.
“
Be
still
,
my
treasures
,
”
she
said
to
them
,
striving
to
speak
cheerily
,
and
laying
her
hands
on
the
curls
of
the
eldest
born
;
“
I
go
away
for
a
little
while
to
try
and
get
you
food
.
Be
good
,
Bernardou
,
and
take
care
of
them
till
I
come
back
.
”
Bernardou
promised
,
being
four
years
old
himself
;
and
she
crept
out
of
the
little
black
door
of
the
hut
into
the
white
road
and
the
rushing
winds
.
“
I
will
go
to
Flamma
,
”
she
said
to
herself
.
It
was
three
in
the
afternoon
,
nearly
dark
at
the
season
of
midwinter
.
The
business
of
the
day
was
done
.
The
people
had
come
and
gone
,
favoured
or
denied
,
according
to
such
sureties
as
they
could
offer
.
The
great
wheel
worked
on
in
the
seething
water
;
the
master
of
the
mill
sat
against
the
casement
to
catch
the
falling
light
,
adding
up
the
sums
in
his
ledger
—
crooked
little
signs
such
as
he
had
taught
himself
to
understand
,
though
he
could
form
neither
numerals
nor
letters
with
his
pen
.
All
around
him
in
the
storehouses
there
were
corn
,
wood
,
wool
,
stores
of
every
sort
of
food
.
All
around
him
,
in
the
room
he
lived
in
,
there
were
hung
the
salt
meats
,
the
sweet
herbs
,
and
the
dried
fruits
,
that
he
had
saved
from
the
profusion
of
other
and
healthier
years
.
It
pleased
him
to
know
that
he
held
all
that
,
and
also
withheld
it
.
It
moved
him
with
a
certain
saturnine
glee
to
see
the
hungry
wistful
eyes
of
the
peasants
stare
longingly
at
all
those
riches
,
whilst
their
white
lips
faltered
out
an
entreaty
—
which
he
denied
.
It
was
what
he
liked
;
to
sit
there
and
count
his
gains
after
his
fashion
,
and
look
at
his
stores
and
listen
to
the
howling
wind
and
driving
hail
,
and
to
chuckle
to
think
how
lean
and
cold
and
sick
they
were
outside
—
those
fools
who
had
mocked
him
because
his
saint
had
been
a
gipsy’s
leman
.
To
be
prayed
to
for
bread
,
and
give
the
stone
of
a
bitter
denial
;
to
be
implored
with
tears
of
supplication
,
and
to
answer
with
a
grim
jest
;
to
see
a
woman
come
with
children
dying
for
food
,
and
to
point
out
to
her
the
big
brass
pans
full
of
milk
,
and
say
to
her
,
“
All
that
makes
butter
for
Paris
,
”
and
then
to
see
her
go
away
wailing
and
moaning
that
her
child
would
die
,
and
tottering
feebly
through
the
snow
—
all
this
was
sweet
to
him
.
Before
his
daughter
had
gone
from
him
,
he
had
been
,
though
a
hard
man
,
yet
honest
,
and
had
been
,
though
severe
,
not
cruel
;
but
since
he
had
been
aware
of
the
shame
of
the
creature
whom
he
had
believed
in
as
an
angel
,
every
fibre
in
him
had
been
embittered
and
salted
sharp
with
the
poignancy
of
an
acrid
hate
towards
all
living
things
.
To
hurt
and
to
wound
,
and
to
see
what
he
thus
struck
bleed
and
suffer
,
was
the
only
pleasure
life
had
left
for
him
.
He
had
all
his
manhood
walked
justly
,
according
to
his
light
,
and
trusted
in
the
God
to
whom
he
prayed
;
and
his
God
and
his
trust
had
denied
and
betrayed
him
,
and
his
heart
had
turned
to
gall
.
The
old
woman
toiled
slowly
through
the
roads
which
lay
between
her
hut
and
the
water‐mill
.
They
were
roads
which
passed
through
meadows
and
along
corn‐fields
,
beside
streamlets
,
and
amongst
little
belts
of
woodland
,
lanes
and
paths
green
and
pleasant
in
the
summer
,
but
now
a
slough
of
frozen
mud
,
and
whistled
through
by
north‐east
winds
.
She
held
on
her
way
steadily
,
stumbling
often
,
and
often
slipping
and
going
slowly
,
for
she
was
very
feeble
from
long
lack
of
food
,
and
the
intensity
of
the
cold
drove
through
and
through
her
frame
.
Still
she
held
on
,
bravely
,
in
the
teeth
of
the
rough
winds
and
of
the
coming
darkness
,
though
the
weather
was
so
wild
that
the
poplar
trees
were
bent
to
the
earth
,
and
the
little
light
in
the
Calvary
lamp
by
the
river
blew
to
and
fro
,
and
at
last
died
out
.
Still
she
held
on
,
a
little
dark
tottering
figure
,
with
a
prayer
on
her
lips
and
a
hope
in
her
heart
.
The
snow
was
falling
,
the
clouds
were
driving
,
the
waters
were
roaring
in
the
twilight
:
she
was
only
a
little
black
speck
in
the
vast
grey
waste
of
the
earth
and
the
sky
,
and
the
furious
air
tossed
her
at
times
to
and
fro
like
a
withered
leaf
.
But
she
would
not
let
it
beat
her
;
she
groped
her
way
with
infinite
difficulty
,
grasping
a
bough
for
strength
,
or
waiting
under
a
tree
for
breath
a
moment
,
and
thus
at
last
reached
the
mill‐house
.
Such
light
as
there
was
left
showed
her
the
kitchen
within
,
the
stores
of
wood
,
the
strings
of
food
;
it
looked
to
her
as
it
had
looked
to
Phratos
,
a
place
of
comfort
and
of
plenty
;
a
strong
safe
shelter
from
the
inclement
night
.
She
lifted
the
latch
and
crept
in
,
and
went
straight
to
Claudis
Flamma
,
who
was
still
busy
beneath
the
window
with
those
rude
signs
which
represented
to
him
his
earthly
wealth
.
She
stood
before
him
white
from
the
falling
snow
,
with
her
brown
face
working
with
a
strong
emotion
,
her
eyes
clear
and
honest
,
and
full
of
an
intense
anxiety
of
appeal
.
“
Flamma
,
”
she
said
simply
to
him
,
“
we
have
been
neighbours
fifty
years
and
more
—
thou
and
I
,
and
many
have
borrowed
of
thee
to
their
hurt
and
shame
,
but
I
never
.
I
am
eighty‐two
,
and
I
never
in
my
days
asked
anything
of
man
or
woman
or
child
.
But
I
come
to‐night
to
ask
bread
of
you
,
—
bread
for
the
four
little
children
at
home
.
I
have
heard
them
cry
three
days
,
and
have
had
nothing
to
give
them
save
a
berry
or
two
off
the
trees
.
I
cannot
bear
it
any
more
.
So
I
have
come
to
you
.
”
He
shut
his
ledger
,
and
looked
at
her
.
They
had
been
neighbours
,
as
she
had
said
,
half
a
century
and
more
;
and
had
often
knelt
down
before
the
same
altar
,
side
by
side
.
“
What
dost
want
?
”
he
asked
simply
.
“
Food
,
”
she
made
answer
;
“
food
and
fuel
.
They
are
so
cold
—
the
little
ones
.
”
“
What
canst
pay
for
them
?
”
he
asked
.
“
Nothing
—
nothing
now
.
There
is
not
a
thing
in
the
house
except
the
last
hay
the
children
sleep
on
.
But
if
thou
wilt
let
me
have
a
little
—
just
a
little
—
while
the
weather
is
so
hard
,
I
will
find
means
to
pay
when
the
weather
breaks
.
There
is
my
garden
;
and
I
can
wash
and
spin
.
I
will
pay
faithfully
.
Thou
knowest
I
never
owed
a
brass
coin
to
any
man
.
But
I
am
so
old
,
and
the
children
are
so
young
—
”
Claudis
Flamma
got
up
and
walked
to
the
other
side
of
the
kitchen
.
Her
eyes
followed
him
with
wistful
,
hungry
longing
.
Where
he
went
there
stood
pans
of
new
milk
,
baskets
of
eggs
,
rolls
of
bread
,
piles
of
faggots
.
Her
feeble
heart
beat
thickly
with
eager
hope
,
her
dim
eyes
glowed
with
pleasure
and
with
thankfulness
.
He
came
back
and
brought
to
her
a
few
sharp
rods
,
plucked
from
a
thorn
tree
.
“
Give
these
to
thy
children’s
children
,
”
he
said
,
with
a
dark
smile
.
“
For
these
—
and
for
no
more
—
will
they
recompense
thee
when
they
shall
grow
to
maturity
.
”
She
looked
at
him
startled
and
disquieted
,
yet
thinking
that
he
meant
but
a
stern
jest
.
“
Good
Flamma
,
you
mock
me
,
”
she
murmured
,
trembling
;
“
the
babes
are
little
and
good
.
Ah
,
give
me
food
quickly
,
for
God’s
sake
!
A
jest
is
well
in
season
,
but
to
an
empty
body
and
a
bitter
heart
it
is
like
a
stripe
.
”
He
smiled
,
and
answered
her
in
this
harsh
grating
voice
,
“
I
give
thee
the
only
thing
given
without
payment
in
this
world
—
advice
.
Take
it
or
leave
it
.
”
She
reeled
a
little
as
if
he
had
struck
her
a
blow
with
his
fist
,
and
her
face
changed
terribly
,
whilst
her
eyes
stared
without
light
or
sense
in
them
.
“
You
jest
,
Flamma
!
You
only
jest
!
”
she
muttered
.
“
The
little
children
starve
,
I
tell
you
.
You
will
give
me
bread
for
them
?
Just
a
little
bread
?
I
will
pay
as
soon
as
the
weather
breaks
.
”
“
I
can
give
nothing
.
I
am
poor
,
very
poor
,
”
he
answered
her
,
with
the
habitual
lie
of
the
miser
;
and
he
opened
his
ledger
again
,
and
went
on
counting
up
the
dots
and
crosses
by
which
he
kept
his
books
.
His
servant
Pitchou
sat
spinning
by
the
hearth
:
she
did
not
cease
her
work
,
nor
intercede
by
a
word
.
The
poor
can
be
better
to
the
poor
than
any
princes
;
but
the
poor
can
also
be
more
cruel
to
the
poor
than
any
slave
drivers
.
The
old
woman’s
head
dropped
on
her
breast
,
she
turned
feebly
,
and
felt
her
way
,
as
though
she
were
blind
,
out
of
the
house
and
into
the
air
.
It
was
already
dark
with
the
darkness
of
descending
night
.
The
snow
was
falling
fast
.
Her
hope
was
gone
:
all
was
cold
—
cold
as
death
.
She
shivered
and
gasped
,
and
strove
to
totter
on
:
the
children
were
alone
.
The
winds
blew
and
drove
the
snow
flakes
in
a
white
cloud
against
her
face
;
the
bending
trees
creaked
and
groaned
as
though
in
pain
;
the
roar
of
the
mill‐water
filled
the
air
.
There
was
now
no
light
:
the
day
was
gone
,
and
the
moon
was
hidden
;
beneath
her
feet
the
frozen
earth
cracked
and
slipped
and
gave
way
.
She
fell
down
;
being
so
old
and
so
weakly
she
could
not
rise
again
,
but
lay
still
with
one
limb
broken
under
her
,
and
the
winds
and
the
storm
beating
together
upon
her
.
“
The
children
!
the
children
!
”
she
moaned
feebly
,
and
then
was
still
:
she
was
so
cold
,
and
the
snow
fell
so
fast
;
she
could
not
lift
herself
nor
see
what
was
around
her
;
she
thought
that
she
was
in
her
bed
at
home
,
and
felt
as
though
she
would
soon
sleep
.
Through
the
dense
gloom
around
her
there
came
a
swiftly
moving
shape
,
that
flew
as
silently
and
as
quickly
as
a
night
bird
,
and
paused
as
though
on
wings
beside
her
.
A
voice
that
was
at
one
timid
and
fierce
,
tender
and
savage
,
spoke
to
her
through
the
clouds
of
driven
snow
spray
.
“
Hush
,
it
is
I
!
I
—
Folle‐Farine
.
I
have
brought
you
my
food
.
It
is
not
much
—
they
never
give
me
much
.
Still
it
will
help
a
little
.
I
heard
what
you
said
—
I
was
in
the
loft
.
Flamma
must
not
know
;
he
might
make
you
pay
.
But
it
is
all
mine
,
truly
mine
,
take
it
.
”
“
Food
—
for
the
children
!
”
The
blessed
word
aroused
her
from
her
lethargy
;
she
raised
herself
a
little
on
one
arm
,
and
tried
to
see
whence
the
voice
came
that
spoke
to
her
.
But
the
effort
exhausted
her
;
she
fell
again
to
the
ground
with
a
groan
—
her
limb
was
broken
.
Folle‐Farine
stood
above
her
;
her
dark
eyes
gleaming
like
a
hawk’s
through
the
gloom
,
and
full
of
a
curious
,
startled
pity
.
“
You
cannot
get
up
;
you
are
old
,
”
she
said
,
abruptly
.
“
See
—
let
me
carry
you
home
.
The
children
!
yes
,
the
children
can
have
it
.
It
is
not
much
;
but
it
will
serve
.
”
She
spoke
hastily
and
roughly
;
she
was
ashamed
of
her
own
compassion
.
What
was
it
to
her
,
whether
any
of
these
people
lived
or
died
?
They
had
always
mocked
and
hated
her
.
“
If
I
did
right
,
I
should
let
them
rot
,
and
spit
on
their
corpses
,
”
she
thought
,
with
the
ferocity
of
vengeance
that
ran
in
her
oriental
blood
.
Yet
she
had
come
out
in
the
storm
,
and
had
brought
away
her
food
for
strangers
,
though
she
had
been
at
work
all
day
long
,
and
was
chilled
to
the
bone
,
and
was
devoured
with
a
ravenous
hunger
.
Why
did
she
do
it
?
She
did
not
know
.
She
scorned
herself
.
But
she
was
sorry
for
this
woman
,
so
poor
and
brave
,
with
her
eighty‐two
years
,
and
so
bitterly
denied
in
her
extremity
.
Manon
Dax
dimly
caught
the
muttered
words
,
and
feebly
strove
to
answer
them
,
whilst
the
winds
roared
and
the
snow
beat
upon
her
fallen
body
.
“
I
cannot
rise
,
”
she
murmured
;
“
my
leg
is
broken
,
I
think
.
But
it
is
no
matter
.
Go
you
to
the
little
ones
;
whoever
you
are
,
you
are
good
,
and
have
pity
.
Go
to
them
,
go
.
It
is
no
matter
for
me
.
I
have
lived
my
life
—
any
way
.
It
will
soon
be
over
.
I
am
not
in
pain
—
indeed
.
”
Folle‐Farine
stood
in
silence
a
moment
,
then
she
stooped
and
lifted
the
old
creature
in
her
strong
young
arms
,
and
with
that
heavy
burden
set
out
on
her
way
in
the
teeth
of
the
storm
.
She
had
known
the
woman
,
and
the
little
ones
,
by
sight
and
name
long
and
well
.
Once
or
twice
when
she
had
passed
by
them
,
the
grandam
,
tender
of
heart
,
but
narrow
of
brain
,
and
believing
all
the
tales
of
her
neighbours
,
had
drawn
the
children
closer
to
her
,
under
the
wing
of
her
serge
cloak
,
lest
the
evil
eye
that
had
bewitched
the
tanner’s
youngest
born
,
should
fall
on
them
,
and
harm
them
in
like
manner
.
Nevertheless
the
evil
eyes
gleamed
on
her
with
a
wistful
sorrow
,
as
Folle‐Farine
bore
her
with
easy
strength
and
a
sure
step
,
through
the
frozen
woodland
ways
,
as
she
would
have
borne
the
load
of
wood
,
or
the
sack
of
corn
,
which
she
was
so
well
used
to
carry
to
and
fro
like
a
packhorse
.
Manon
Dax
did
not
stir
,
she
did
not
even
strive
to
speak
again
;
she
was
vaguely
sensible
of
a
slow
,
buoyant
,
painless
movement
,
of
a
close
soft
pressure
that
sheltered
her
from
the
force
of
the
winds
,
of
a
subtle
warmth
that
stole
through
her
emaciated
aching
frame
,
and
made
her
drowsy
and
forgetful
,
and
content
to
be
still
.
She
could
do
no
more
.
Her
day
for
struggle
and
for
work
was
done
.
Once
she
moved
a
little
.
Her
bearer
paused
and
stopped
and
listened
.
“
Did
you
speak
?
”
Manon
Dax
gave
a
soft
troubled
sigh
.
“
God
is
good
,
”
she
muttered
,
like
one
speaking
in
a
dream
.
Folle‐Farine
held
on
her
way
,
as
before
her
Phratos
had
once
held
on
his
;
fiercely
blown
,
blinded
by
the
snow
,
pierced
by
the
blasts
of
the
hurricane
,
but
sure
of
foot
on
the
ice
as
a
reindeer
,
and
sure
of
eye
in
the
dark
as
a
night‐hawk
.
“
Are
you
in
pain
?
”
she
asked
once
of
the
burden
she
carried
.
There
was
no
answer
.
“
She
is
asleep
,
”
she
thought
;
and
went
onward
.
The
distance
of
the
road
was
nothing
to
her
,
fleet
and
firm
of
step
,
and
inured
to
all
hardships
of
the
weather
;
yet
it
cost
her
an
hour
to
travel
it
,
heavily
weighted
as
she
was
,
soaked
with
snow‐water
,
blown
back
continually
by
the
opposing
winds
,
and
forced
to
stagger
and
to
pause
by
the
fury
of
the
storm
.
At
last
she
reached
the
hut
.
The
wind
had
driven
open
the
door
.
The
wailing
cries
of
the
children
echoed
sorrowfully
on
the
stillness
,
answered
by
the
bleating
of
sheep
,
cold
and
hungry
in
their
distant
folds
.
The
snow
had
drifted
in
unchecked
;
all
was
quite
dark
.
She
felt
her
way
within
over
the
heaps
of
the
snow
,
and
being
used
by
long
custom
to
see
in
the
gloom
,
as
the
night‐haunting
beasts
and
birds
can
see
,
she
found
the
bed
of
hay
,
and
laid
her
burden
gently
down
on
it
.
The
children
ceased
their
wailing
;
the
two
eldest
ones
crept
up
close
to
their
grandmother
;
and
pressed
their
cheeks
to
hers
,
and
whispered
to
her
eagerly
,
with
their
little
famished
lips
:
“
Where
is
the
food
,
where
is
the
food
?
”
But
there
was
still
no
answer
.
The
clouds
drifted
a
little
from
the
moon
which
had
been
so
long
obscured
;
it
shone
for
a
moment
through
the
vapour
of
the
heavy
sky
;
the
whitened
ground
threw
back
the
rays
increased
tenfold
;
the
pale
gleam
reached
the
old
still
face
of
Manon
Dax
.
There
was
a
feeble
smile
upon
it
—
the
smile
with
which
her
last
words
had
been
spoken
in
the
darkness
;
“
God
is
good
!
”
She
was
quite
dead
.
CHAPTER
VI
.
ALL
that
night
Folle‐Farine
tarried
with
the
children
.
The
youngest
had
been
suffocated
whilst
they
had
been
alone
,
by
the
snow
that
had
fallen
through
the
roof
,
from
which
its
elders
had
been
too
small
and
weakly
to
be
able
to
drag
it
out
,
unaided
.
She
laid
it
,
stiff
already
in
the
cold
night
,
beside
the
body
of
its
old
grandam
,
who
had
perished
in
endeavouring
to
save
it
;
they
lay
together
,
the
year‐old
child
and
the
aged
woman
,
the
broken
bud
and
the
leafless
bough
.
They
had
died
of
hunger
,
as
the
birds
die
on
the
moors
and
plains
;
it
is
a
common
fate
.
She
stayed
beside
the
children
,
who
were
frightened
and
bewildered
and
quite
mute
.
She
divided
such
food
as
she
had
brought
between
them
,
not
taking
any
herself
.
She
took
off
the
sheepskin
which
she
wore
in
winter
tied
round
her
loins
as
her
outdoor
garment
,
and
made
a
little
nest
of
it
for
the
three
,
and
covered
them
with
it
.
She
could
not
close
the
door
,
from
the
height
of
the
drifted
snow
,
and
the
wind
poured
in
all
night
long
,
though
in
an
hour
the
snow
ceased
to
fall
.
Now
and
then
the
clouds
parting
a
little
,
let
a
ray
of
the
moon
stray
in
;
and
then
she
could
see
the
quiet
faces
of
the
old
woman
and
the
child
.
“
They
die
of
famine
—
and
they
die
saying
their
‘God
is
good
,
’
”
she
thought
;
and
she
pondered
on
it
deeply
,
with
the
bitter
and
melancholy
irony
which
life
had
already
taught
her
.
The
hours
of
the
night
dragged
slowly
on
;
the
winds
howled
above
the
trembling
hovel
;
the
children
sobbed
themselves
to
sleep
at
last
,
lulled
by
the
warmth
of
the
sheepskin
,
in
which
they
crept
together
like
young
birds
in
a
nest
.
She
sat
there
patiently
;
frozen
and
ravenous
;
yet
not
drawing
a
corner
of
the
sheepskin
to
her
own
use
,
nor
regretting
a
crumb
of
the
bread
she
had
surrendered
.
She
hated
the
human
race
,
whose
hand
was
always
against
her
.
She
had
no
single
good
deed
to
thank
them
for
,
nor
any
single
gentle
word
.
Yet
she
was
sorry
for
that
old
creature
,
who
had
been
so
bitterly
dealt
with
all
her
years
through
,
who
had
died
saying
“
God
was
good
.
”
She
was
sorry
for
those
little
helpless
,
unconscious
starving
animals
,
who
had
lost
the
only
life
that
could
labour
for
theirs
.
She
forgave
—
because
she
forgot
—
that
in
other
winters
this
door
had
been
shut
against
her
as
against
an
accursed
thing
,
and
these
babes
had
mocked
her
in
their
first
imperfect
speech
.
The
dawn
broke
;
the
sharp
grey
winter’s
day
came
;
the
storm
had
lulled
;
but
the
whole
earth
was
frost‐bound
and
white
with
snow
,
the
air
was
piercing
,
the
sky
dark
and
overcast
.
She
had
to
leave
them
;
she
was
bound
to
her
daily
labour
at
the
mill
;
she
knew
that
if
when
the
sun
rose
she
were
found
to
be
absent
,
she
and
they
too
would
surely
suffer
.
What
to
do
for
them
she
could
not
tell
.
She
had
no
friend
save
Marcellin
,
who
himself
was
as
poor
as
these
.
She
never
spoke
to
any
living
thing
,
except
a
sheep‐dog
,
or
a
calf
bleating
for
its
mother
,
or
a
toil‐worn
bullock
staggering
over
the
ploughed
clods
.
Between
her
,
and
all
those
around
her
,
there
were
perpetual
enmity
and
mistrust
,
and
scarcely
so
much
of
a
common
bond
as
lies
in
a
common
humanity
.
For
in
her
title
to
a
common
humanity
with
them
they
disbelieved
;
while
she
in
her
scorn
rejected
all
claim
to
it
.
At
daybreak
there
passed
by
the
open
door
in
the
mist
,
a
peasant
going
to
his
cattle
in
the
fields
beyond
,
pushing
through
the
snow
a
rude
hand‐cart
full
of
turnips
,
and
other
winter
food
.
She
rose
and
called
to
him
.
He
stared
and
stood
still
.
She
went
to
the
doorway
and
signed
to
him
.
“
Old
Manon
is
dead
.
Will
you
tell
the
people
?
The
children
are
here
,
alone
,
and
they
starve
.
”
“
Manon
Dax
dead
?
”
he
echoed
stupidly
:
he
was
her
nearest
neighbour
,
and
he
had
helped
her
to
fetch
her
washing‐water
sometimes
from
the
well
half
a
league
away
,
and
when
his
wife
had
been
down
,
with
fever
and
ague
,
the
old
woman
had
nursed
her
carefully
and
well
through
many
a
tedious
month
.
“
Yes
,
I
found
her
on
the
road
,
in
the
snow
,
last
night
.
She
had
broken
her
leg
,
and
she
was
dead
before
I
got
here
.
Go
and
send
some
one
.
The
little
children
are
all
alone
,
and
one
of
them
is
dead
too
.
”
It
was
so
dark
still
,
that
he
had
not
seen
at
first
who
it
was
that
addressed
him
,
but
slowly
,
as
he
stared
and
stared
,
and
drew
nearer
to
her
,
he
recognised
the
scarlet
girdle
,
the
brown
limbs
,
the
straight
brow
,
the
fathomless
eyes
.
He
feared
her
,
with
a
great
fear
rising
there
suddenly
before
him
,
out
of
that
still
white
world
of
dawn
and
shadow
.
He
dropped
the
handles
of
his
cart
and
fled
;
a
turn
in
the
road
,
and
the
darkness
of
the
morning
,
soon
hid
him
from
sight
.
She
thought
that
he
had
gone
to
summon
his
people
,
and
she
went
back
and
sat
again
by
the
sleeping
children
,
and
watched
the
sad
still
faces
of
the
dead
.
The
peasant
flew
home
as
swiftly
as
his
heavy
shoes
and
the
broken
ice
of
the
roads
would
allow
.
His
cabin
was
at
some
distance
,
at
a
place
where
,
amidst
the
fields
,
a
few
huts
,
a
stone
crucifix
,
some
barns
and
stacks
,
and
a
single
wineshop
made
up
a
little
village
,
celebrated
in
the
district
for
its
wide
spreading
orchards
and
their
excellence
of
fruits
.
Even
so
early
the
little
hamlet
was
awake
;
the
shutters
were
opened
;
the
people
were
astir
;
men
were
brushing
the
snow
from
their
thresholds
;
women
were
going
out
to
their
field‐work
;
behind
the
narrow
lattices
the
sleepy
eyes
and
curly
heads
of
children
peered
,
while
their
fingers
played
with
the
fanciful
encrustations
of
the
frost
.
The
keeper
of
the
tavern
was
unbarring
his
house
door
;
a
girl
broke
the
ice
in
a
pool
for
her
ducks
to
get
at
the
water
;
a
few
famished
robins
flew
to
and
fro
songless
.
His
own
wife
was
on
her
doorstep
;
to
her
he
darted
.
“
Manon
Dax
is
dead
!
”
he
shouted
.
“
What
of
that
?
”
said
his
wife
,
shouldering
her
broom
;
a
great
many
had
died
that
winter
,
and
they
were
so
poor
and
sharp‐set
with
famine
themselves
,
that
they
had
neither
bread
nor
pity
to
spare
.
“
This
of
that
!
’
cried
the
old
man
,
doggedly
,
and
full
of
the
excitement
of
his
own
terrors
.
“
The
young
devil
of
Yprès
has
killed
her
,
that
I
am
sure
.
She
is
there
in
the
hut
in
the
dark
,
with
her
eyes
glaring
like
coals
.
And
for
what
should
she
be
there
if
not
for
evil
?
Tell
me
that
.
”
“
Is
it
possible
?
”
his
wife
cried
,
incredulous
,
yet
willing
to
believe
.
The
girl
left
her
ducks
,
the
wineshop‐keeper
his
door
,
the
women
their
cabins
,
and
came
and
stood
round
the
bearer
of
such
strange
news
:
very
welcome
news
in
a
raw
frost‐bitten
dawn
,
when
a
day
was
beginning
that
would
otherwise
have
had
nothing
more
wonderful
in
it
than
tidings
of
how
a
litter
of
black
pigs
throve
,
and
how
a
brown
horse
had
fared
with
the
swelling
in
the
throat
.
They
were
very
dull
there
from
year’s
end
to
year’s
end
;
once
a
month
,
may
be
,
a
letter
would
come
in
from
some
soldier‐son
or
brother
,
or
a
pedlar
coming
to
buy
eggs
would
bring
likewise
some
stray
rumour
from
the
outer‐world
;
—
beyond
this
there
was
no
change
,
they
heard
nothing
,
and
saw
nothing
,
seldom
moving
a
league
away
from
that
stone
crucifix
,
round
which
their
homes
were
clustered
.
The
man
Flandrin
had
nothing
truly
to
tell
;
he
had
fled
horrified
to
be
challenged
,
in
the
twilight
and
the
snow
,
by
a
creature
of
such
evil
omen
.
But
when
he
had
got
an
audience
,
he
was
too
true
an
orator
,
and
not
such
a
fool
as
to
lose
it
for
such
a
little
beggarly
matter
as
the
truth
;
and
his
tongue
clacked
quickly
of
all
which
his
fears
and
fancies
had
conceived
,
until
he
had
talked
himself
and
his
listeners
into
the
full
belief
that
Manon
Dax
being
belated
had
encountered
the
evil
glance
of
the
daughter
of
all
evil
,
and
had
been
slain
thereby
in
most
cruel
sorcery
.
Now
,
in
the
whole
neighbourhood
,
there
was
nothing
too
foul
to
be
credible
of
the
begotten
of
the
fiend
—
a
fiend
whom
all
the
grown
men
and
women
remembered
so
well
in
his
earthly
form
,
when
he
had
come
to
ruin
poor
Reine
Flamma’s
body
and
soul
,
with
his
eyes
like
jewels
,
and
his
strength
passing
the
strength
of
all
men
.
The
people
listened
,
gaping
,
and
wonderstruck
,
and
forgetting
the
bitterness
of
the
cold
,
being
warmed
with
those
unfailing
human
cordials
of
foul
suspicion
and
of
gratified
hatred
.
Some
went
off
to
their
daily
labour
,
being
unable
to
spare
time
for
more
gossip
;
but
divers
women
who
had
nothing
to
occupy
them
remained
about
Flandrin
.
A
shrivelled
dame
,
who
owned
the
greatest
number
of
brood‐hens
in
the
village
,
and
who
had
only
one
son
,
a
priest
,
and
who
was
much
respected
and
deferred
to
by
her
neighbours
,
spoke
first
when
Flandrin
had
ended
his
tale
for
the
seventh
time
,
it
being
a
little
matter
to
him
that
his
two
hungry
cows
would
be
lowing
all
the
while
vainly
for
their
morning
meal
.
“
Flandrin
,
you
have
said
well
,
beyond
a
doubt
;
the
good
soul
has
been
struck
dead
by
sorcery
.
But
,
you
have
forgot
one
thing
,
the
children
are
there
,
and
that
devil
of
Yprès
is
with
them
.
We
—
good
Christians
and
true
—
should
not
let
such
things
be
.
Go
,
and
drive
her
out
and
bring
the
young
ones
hither
.
”
Flandrin
stood
silent
.
It
was
very
well
to
say
that
the
devil
should
be
driven
out
,
but
it
was
not
so
well
to
be
the
driver
.
“
That
is
as
it
should
be
,
”
assented
the
other
woman
.
“
Go
,
Flandrin
,
and
we
—
we
will
take
the
little
souls
in
for
this
day
,
and
then
give
them
to
the
public
charity
,
better
cannot
be
done
.
Go
.
”
“
But
mind
that
thou
dost
strike
that
beast
,
Folle‐Farine
,
sharply
!
”
cried
his
wife
.
“
If
thou
showest
her
the
cross
,
she
will
have
to
grovel
and
flee
,
”
said
another
.
“
Not
she
,
”
grumbled
an
old
dame
,
whose
son
was
a
priest
.
“
One
day
my
blessed
son
,
who
is
nearly
a
saint
,
Heaven
knows
,
menaced
her
with
his
cross
,
and
she
stood
straight
,
and
fearless
,
and
looked
at
it
,
and
said
,
‘By
that
sign
you
do
all
manner
of
vileness
in
this
world
,
and
say
you
are
safe
to
be
blest
in
another
;
I
know
!
’
and
so
laughed
and
went
on
.
What
are
you
to
do
with
a
witch
like
that
—
eh
?
”
“
Go
,
Flandrin
,
”
shrieked
the
women
in
chorus
,
“
Go
!
Every
minute
you
waste
the
little
angels
are
nearer
to
hell
!
”
“
Come
yourselves
with
me
,
then
,
”
said
Flandrin
,
sullenly
.
“
I
will
not
go
after
those
infants
,
it
is
not
a
man
's
work
.
”
In
his
own
mind
he
was
musing
on
a
story
which
his
priests
had
often
told
him
,
of
swine
into
which
exorcised
devils
had
entered
,
and
despatched
swiftly
down
a
slope
to
a
miserable
end
;
and
he
thought
of
his
own
pigs
,
black
,
fat
,
and
happy
,
worth
so
much
to
him
in
the
market
.
Better
,
he
mused
,
that
Manon
Dax’s
grandchildren
should
be
the
devil’s
prey
,
than
those
,
his
choicest
,
swine
.
The
women
jeered
him
,
menaced
him
,
flouted
him
,
besought
him
.
But
vainly
—
he
would
not
move
alone
.
He
had
become
possessed
of
the
terrors
of
his
own
fancy
had
created
;
and
he
would
not
stir
a
step
for
all
their
imprecations
.
“
Let
us
go
ourselves
,
then
!
”
screamed
his
wife
at
length
,
flourishing
above
her
head
the
broom
with
which
she
had
swept
the
snow
.
“
Men
are
ever
cowards
.
It
shall
never
be
said
of
me
,
that
I
left
those
babes
to
the
fiend
while
I
gave
my
own
children
their
porridge
by
the
fire
!
”
There
was
a
sentiment
in
this
that
stirred
all
her
companions
to
emulation
.
They
rushed
into
their
homes
,
snatched
a
shovel
,
a
staff
,
a
broom
,
a
pig‐stick
,
each
whatever
came
uppermost
,
and
dragging
Flandrin
in
the
midst
,
went
down
the
sloping
frozen
road
between
its
fringe
of
poplars
.
They
were
not
very
sure
in
their
own
minds
,
why
they
went
,
nor
for
what
they
went
;
but
they
had
a
vague
idea
of
doing
what
was
wise
and
pious
,
and
they
had
a
great
hate
in
their
hearts
against
the
child
.
They
sped
as
fast
as
the
slippery
road
would
let
them
,
and
their
tongues
flew
still
faster
than
their
feet
;
the
cold
of
the
daybreak
made
them
sharp
and
keen
on
their
prey
,
as
the
air
was
on
themselves
;
they
screamed
fable
on
fable
hoarsely
,
their
voices
rising
shrilly
above
the
whistling
of
the
winds
,
and
the
creaking
of
the
trees
,
and
they
inflamed
each
other
with
ferocious
belief
in
the
sorcery
they
were
to
punish
.
They
were
in
their
way
virtuous
;
they
were
content
on
very
little
;
they
toiled
hard
from
their
birth
to
their
grave
;
they
were
most
of
them
chaste
wives
and
devoted
mothers
,
they
bore
privation
steadily
,
and
they
slaved
in
fair
weather
and
foul
without
a
complaint
.
But
they
were
narrow
of
soul
,
greedy
of
temper
,
bigoted
and
uncharitable
,
and
,
when
they
thought
themselves
or
their
offspring
menaced
,
implacable
.
They
were
of
the
stuff
that
would
be
burned
for
a
creed
,
and
burn
others
for
another
creed
.
It
is
the
creed
of
the
vast
majority
of
every
nation
;
the
priests
and
lawgivers
of
every
nation
have
always
told
their
people
that
it
is
a
creed
holy
and
honourable
—
how
can
the
people
know
that
it
is
at
once
idiotic
and
hellish
?
Folle‐Farine
sat
within
on
the
damp
hay
under
the
broken
roof
,
and
watched
the
open
door
.
The
children
were
still
asleep
.
The
eldest
one
in
his
sleep
had
turned
and
caught
her
hand
,
and
held
it
.
She
did
not
care
for
them
.
They
had
screamed
,
and
run
behind
the
woodstock
,
or
their
grandam
's
skirts
,
a
hundred
times
when
they
had
seen
her
on
the
road
or
in
the
orchard
.
But
she
was
sorry
for
them
;
almost
as
sorry
as
she
was
for
the
little
naked
woodpigeons
when
their
nests
were
scattered
on
the
ground
in
a
tempest
,
or
for
the
little
starveling
rabbits
when
they
screamed
in
their
holes
for
the
soft
white
mother
that
was
lying
,
tortured
and
twisted
,
in
the
jaws
of
a
steel‐trap
.
She
was
sorry
for
them
—
half
roughly
,
half
tenderly
sorry
—
with
some
shame
at
her
own
weakness
,
and
yet
too
sincerely
sorry
to
be
able
to
persuade
herself
to
leave
them
to
their
fate
there
,
all
alone
with
their
dead
.
For
in
the
savage
heart
of
Taric’s
daughter
there
was
an
innermost
corner
wherein
her
mother’s
nature
slept
.
She
sat
there
quite
still
,
watching
the
porch
,
and
listening
for
footsteps
.
The
snow
was
driven
in
encircling
clouds
by
the
winds
,
the
dense
fog
of
the
dawn
lifted
itself
off
the
surrounding
fields
;
the
branches
of
the
trees
were
beautiful
with
hanging
icicles
;
from
the
meadow
hard‐by
there
wailed
unceasingly
the
mournful
moaning
of
Flandrin’s
cattle
,
deserted
of
their
master
,
and
hungry
in
their
wooden
sheds
.
She
heard
a
distant
convent
clock
strike
six
:
no
one
came
.
Yet
she
had
resolved
not
to
leave
the
children
all
alone
,
though
Flamma
should
come
and
find
her
there
,
and
thrash
her
for
her
absence
from
his
tasks
.
So
she
sat
still
,
and
waited
.
After
a
little
she
heard
the
crisp
cracking
of
many
feet
on
the
frozen
snow
and
ice‐filled
ruts
of
the
narrow
road
;
she
heard
a
confused
clatter
of
angry
voices
breaking
harshly
on
the
stillness
of
the
winter
morning
.
The
light
was
stronger
now
,
and
through
the
doorway
she
saw
the
little
passionate
crowd
of
angry
faces
as
the
women
pressed
onward
down
the
hill
with
Flandrin
in
their
midst
.
She
rose
,
and
looked
out
at
them
,
quietly
.
For
a
minute
they
paused
—
irresolute
,
silent
,
perplexed
:
at
the
sight
of
her
they
were
half
daunted
;
they
felt
the
vagueness
of
the
crime
they
came
to
bring
against
her
.
The
wife
of
Flandrin
recovered
speech
first
,
and
dared
them
to
the
onslaught
.
“
What
!
”
she
screamed
,
“
nine
good
Christians
fearful
of
one
daughter
of
hell
?
Fie
!
for
shame
!
Look
;
my
leaden
Peter
is
round
my
neck
!
Is
he
not
stronger
than
she
any
day
?
”
In
a
moment
more
,
thus
girded
at
and
guarded
at
the
same
time
,
they
were
through
the
door
and
stood
on
the
mud
floor
of
the
hearth
,
close
to
her
,
casting
hasty
glances
at
the
poor
dead
body
on
the
hearth
,
whose
fires
they
had
left
to
die
out
all
through
that
bitter
winter
.
They
came
about
her
in
a
fierce
,
gesticulating
,
breathless
troop
,
flourishing
their
sticks
in
her
eyes
,
and
casting
at
her
all
their
various
charges
in
one
breath
.
Flandrin
stood
a
little
aloof
,
sheepishly
on
the
threshold
,
wishing
that
he
had
never
said
a
word
of
the
death
of
Manon
Dax
to
his
good
wife
and
neighbours
.
“
You
met
that
poor
saint
and
killed
her
in
the
snow
with
your
witcheries
!
”
one
cried
.
“
You
have
stifled
that
poor
babe
where
it
lay
!
”
cried
another
.
“
A
good
woman
like
that
!
”
shrieked
a
third
,
“
who
was
well
and
blithe
and
praising
God
only
a
day
ago
,
for
I
saw
her
myself
come
down
the
hill
for
our
well
water
!
”
“
It
is
as
you
did
with
the
dear
little
Rémy
,
who
will
be
lame
all
his
life
,
through
you
,
”
hissed
a
fourth
.
“
You
are
not
fit
to
live
;
you
spit
venom
like
a
toad
.
”
“
Are
you
alive
,
my
angels
?
”
said
a
fifth
,
waking
the
three
children
noisily
,
and
rousing
their
piercing
cries
.
“
Are
you
alive
after
that
witch
has
gazed
on
you
?
It
is
a
miracle
!
The
Saints
be
praised
!
”
Folle‐Farine
stood
mute
and
erect
for
the
moment
,
not
comprehending
why
they
thus
with
one
accord
fell
upon
her
.
She
pointed
to
the
bodies
on
the
hearth
,
with
one
of
those
grave
and
dignified
gestures
which
were
her
birthright
from
the
old
oriental
race
.
“
She
was
cold
and
hungry
,
”
she
said
curtly
,
her
mellow
accent
softening
and
enriching
the
provincial
tongue
which
she
had
learned
from
those
amidst
whom
she
dwelt
.
“
She
had
fallen
,
and
was
dying
.
I
brought
her
here
.
The
young
child
was
killed
by
the
snow
.
I
stayed
with
the
rest
because
they
were
frightened
and
alone
.
There
is
no
more
to
tell
.
What
of
it
?
”
“
Thou
hast
better
come
away
.
What
canst
thou
prove
?
”
whispered
Flandrin
to
his
wife
.
He
was
afraid
of
the
storm
he
had
invoked
,
and
would
fain
have
stilled
it
.
But
that
was
beyond
his
power
.
The
women
had
not
come
forth
half
a
league
in
the
howling
winds
of
a
midwinter
daybreak
only
to
go
back
with
a
mere
charity
done
,
and
with
no
vengeance
taken
.
They
hissed
,
they
screamed
,
they
hurled
their
rage
at
her
;
they
accused
her
of
a
thousand
crimes
;
they
filled
the
hut
with
clamor
as
of
a
thousand
tongues
;
they
foamed
,
they
spat
,
they
struck
her
with
their
sticks
;
and
she
stood
quiet
,
looking
at
them
,
and
the
old
dead
face
of
Manon
Dax
which
lay
upward
in
the
dim
light
.
The
eldest
boy
struggled
in
the
grasp
of
the
peasant
woman
who
had
seized
him
,
and
stretched
his
arms
,
instead
,
to
the
one
who
had
fed
him
,
and
whose
hand
he
had
held
all
through
his
restless
slumber
in
that
long
and
dreary
night
.
The
woman
covered
his
eyes
with
a
scream
.
”
Ah
—
h
!
”
she
moaned
,
“
see
how
the
innocent
child
is
bewitched
!
It
is
horrible
!
”
“
Look
on
that
;
—
oh
infernal
thing
!
”
cried
Flandrin’s
wife
,
lifting
up
her
treasured
figure
of
Peter
.
“
You
dare
not
face
that
blessed
image
.
See
—
see
all
of
you
—
how
she
winces
,
and
turns
white
!
”
Folle‐Farine
had
shrunk
a
little
as
the
child
had
called
to
her
.
Its
gesture
of
affection
was
the
first
that
she
had
ever
seen
towards
her
in
any
human
thing
.
She
laughed
aloud
as
the
image
of
Peter
was
thrust
in
her
face
.
She
saw
it
was
some
emblem
and
idol
of
their
faith
,
devotedly
cherished
.
She
stretched
her
hand
out
,
wrenched
it
away
,
trampled
on
it
,
and
tossed
it
through
the
doorway
into
the
snow
,
where
it
sank
and
disappeared
.
Then
she
folded
her
arms
,
and
waited
for
them
.
There
was
a
loud
shriek
at
the
blasphemy
of
the
impious
act
;
then
they
rushed
on
her
.
They
came
inflamed
with
all
the
fury
which
abject
fear
and
bigoted
hatred
can
beget
in
minds
of
the
lowest
and
most
brutal
type
.
They
were
strong
,
rude
,
ignorant
,
fanatical
peasants
,
they
abhorred
her
,
they
believed
no
child
of
theirs
safe
in
its
bed
while
she
walked
abroad
alive
.
Beside
such
women
,
when
in
wrath
and
riot
,
the
tiger
and
they
hyæna
are
as
the
lamb
and
the
dove
.
They
set
on
her
with
furious
force
,
flung
her
,
trod
on
her
,
beat
her
,
kicked
her
with
their
wood‐shod
feet
,
with
all
the
malignant
fury
of
the
female
animal
that
fights
for
its
offspring’s
and
its
own
security
.
Strong
though
she
was
,
and
swift
,
and
full
of
courage
,
she
had
no
power
against
the
numbers
who
had
thrown
themselves
on
her
,
and
borne
her
backward
by
dint
of
their
united
effort
,
and
held
her
down
to
work
their
worst
on
her
.
She
could
not
free
herself
nor
return
their
blows
,
nor
lift
herself
to
wrestle
with
them
;
she
could
only
deny
them
the
sweetness
of
wringing
from
her
a
single
cry
,
and
that
much
she
did
.
She
was
mute
while
the
rough
hands
flew
at
her
,
the
sticks
struck
at
her
,
the
heavy
feet
were
driven
against
her
body
,
the
fingers
clutched
at
her
long
hair
,
and
twisted
and
tore
at
it
—
she
was
quite
mute
throughout
.
“
Prick
her
in
the
breast
,
and
see
if
the
devil
be
still
in
her
.
I
have
heard
say
there
is
no
better
way
to
test
a
witch
!
”
cried
Flandrin’s
wife
,
writhing
in
rage
for
the
outrage
to
the
Petrus
.
Her
foes
needed
no
second
bidding
;
they
had
her
already
prostrate
in
their
midst
,
and
a
dozen
eager
hands
seized
a
closer
grip
upon
her
,
pulled
her
clothes
from
her
chest
,
and
,
holding
her
down
on
the
mud
floor
,
searched
with
ravenous
eyes
for
the
signet
marks
of
hell
.
The
smooth
skin
baffled
them
;
its
rich
and
tender
hues
were
without
spot
or
blemish
.
“
What
matter
;
what
matter
?
”
hissed
Rose
Flandrin
.
“
When
our
fathers
hunted
witches
in
the
old
time
,
did
they
stop
for
that
?
Draw
blood
,
and
you
will
see
.
”
She
clutched
a
jagged
rusty
nail
from
out
the
wall
,
and
leaned
over
her
prey
.
“
It
is
the
only
babe
that
will
ever
cling
to
thee
!
”
she
cried
,
with
a
laugh
,
as
the
nail
drew
blood
above
the
heart
.
Still
Folle‐Farine
made
no
sound
and
asked
no
mercy
.
She
was
powerless
,
defenceless
,
flung
on
her
back
amidst
her
tormentors
,
fastened
down
by
treading
feet
and
clenching
hands
;
she
could
resist
in
nothing
,
she
could
not
stir
a
limb
,
still
she
kept
silence
,
and
her
proud
eyes
looked
unquailing
into
the
hateful
faces
bent
to
hers
.
The
muscles
and
nerves
of
her
body
quivered
with
a
mighty
pang
,
her
chest
heaved
with
the
torture
of
indignity
,
her
heart
fluttered
like
a
wounded
bird
—
not
at
the
physical
pain
,
but
at
the
shame
of
these
women’s
gaze
,
the
loathsome
contact
of
their
reckless
touch
.
The
iron
pierced
deeper
,
but
they
could
not
make
her
speak
.
Except
for
her
eyes
,
that
glowed
with
a
dusky
fire
as
they
glanced
to
and
fro
,
seeking
escape
,
she
might
have
been
a
statue
of
olive
wood
,
flung
down
by
ruffians
to
make
a
bonfire
.
“
If
one
were
to
drive
the
nail
to
the
head
,
she
would
not
feel
!
”
cried
the
women
,
in
furious
despair
,
and
were
minded
,
almost
,
to
put
her
to
the
uttermost
test
.
Suddenly
from
the
doorway
Flandrin
raised
an
alarm
:
“
There
is
our
notary
close
at
hand
,
on
the
road
on
his
mule
!
Hist
!
Come
out
quickly
.
You
know
how
strict
he
is
,
and
how
he
forbids
us
ever
to
try
and
take
the
law
into
our
own
keeping
.
Quick
—
as
you
love
your
lives
—
quick
!
”
The
furies
left
their
prey
,
and
scattered
and
fled
;
the
notary
was
a
name
of
awe
to
them
,
for
he
was
a
severe
man
,
but
just
.
They
seized
the
children
,
went
out
with
them
into
the
road
,
closed
the
hut
door
behind
them
,
and
moved
down
the
hill
;
the
children
wailing
sadly
,
and
the
eldest
trying
to
get
from
them
and
go
back
.
The
women
looked
mournful
and
held
their
heads
down
,
and
comforted
the
little
ones
;
Flandrin
himself
went
to
his
cattle
in
the
meadow
.
"
Is
anything
amiss
?
"
the
old
white‐haired
notary
asked
,
stopping
his
favourite
grey
mule
at
sight
of
the
little
calvacade
.
The
women
,
weeping
,
told
him
that
Manon
Dax
was
dead
,
and
the
youngest
infant
likewise
—
of
cold
,
in
the
night
,
as
they
supposed
.
They
dared
to
say
no
other
thing
,
for
he
had
many
times
rebuked
them
for
their
lack
of
charity
and
their
bigoted
cruelties
and
superstitions
,
and
they
were
quaking
with
fear
lest
he
should
by
any
chance
enter
the
cottage
and
see
their
work
.
“
Flandrin
,
going
to
his
cow
,
saw
her
first
,
and
he
came
to
us
and
told
us
,
”
they
added
,
crossing
themselves
fervently
,
and
hushing
little
Bernardou
,
who
wanted
to
get
from
them
and
return
;
“
and
we
have
taken
the
poor
little
things
to
carry
them
home
;
we
are
going
to
give
them
food
,
and
warm
them
awhile
by
the
stove
,
and
then
we
shall
come
back
and
do
all
that
is
needful
for
the
beloved
dead
who
are
within
.
”
“
That
is
well
.
That
is
good
and
neighbourly
of
you
,
”
said
the
notary
,
who
liked
them
all
,
having
married
them
all
,
and
registered
their
children’s
births
,
and
who
was
a
good
old
man
though
stern
;
kindly
and
very
honest
.
He
promised
them
to
see
for
his
part
that
all
needed
by
the
law
and
by
the
church
should
be
done
for
their
old
lost
neighbour
,
and
then
urged
his
fat
mule
into
a
trot
,
for
he
had
been
summoned
to
a
rich
man’s
sick
bed
in
that
early
winter
morning
,
and
was
in
haste
lest
the
priest
should
be
beforehand
with
him
there
.
“
How
tender
the
poor
are
to
the
poor
!
Those
people
have
not
bread
enough
for
themselves
,
and
yet
they
burden
their
homes
with
three
strange
mouths
.
Their
hearts
must
be
true
at
the
core
,
if
their
tongues
sometimes
be
foul
,
”
he
mused
,
as
he
rode
the
mule
down
through
the
fog
.
The
women
went
on
,
carrying
and
dragging
the
children
with
them
,
in
a
sullen
impatience
.
“
To
think
we
should
have
had
to
leave
that
fiend
of
Yprès
!
”
they
muttered
in
their
teeth
.
“
Well
,
there
is
one
thing
,
she
will
not
get
over
the
hurt
for
days
.
Her
bones
will
be
stiff
for
many
a
week
.
That
will
teach
her
to
leave
honest
folk
alone
.
”
And
they
traversed
the
road
slowly
;
muttering
to
one
another
.
“
Hold
thy
noise
,
thou
little
pig
!
”
cried
Flandrin’s
wife
,
pushing
Bernardou
on
before
her
.
“
Hold
thy
noise
,
I
tell
you
,
or
I
will
put
you
in
the
black
box
in
a
hole
in
the
ground
,
along
with
thy
great‐grandmother
.
”
But
Bernardou
wept
aloud
,
refusing
to
be
comforted
or
terrified
into
silence
.
He
was
old
enough
to
know
that
never
more
would
the
old
kindly
withered
brown
face
bend
over
him
as
he
woke
in
the
morning
,
nor
the
old
kindly
quavering
voice
croone
him
country
ballads
and
cradle
songs
at
twilight
by
the
bright
wood
fire
.
Little
by
little
the
women
carrying
the
children
crept
down
the
slippery
slope
,
half
ice
and
half
mud
in
the
thaw
,
and
entered
their
own
village
,
and
therein
were
much
praised
for
their
charity
and
courage
.
For
when
they
praise
,
as
when
they
abuse
,
villages
are
loud
of
voice
and
blind
of
eye
,
much
as
are
the
cities
.
Their
tongues
,
and
those
of
their
neighbours
,
clacked
all
day
long
,
noisily
and
bravely
,
of
their
good
and
their
great
deeds
;
they
had
all
the
sanctity
of
martyrdom
,
and
all
the
glory
of
victory
,
in
one
.
True
,
they
had
left
all
their
house
and
field
work
half
done
;
—
“
but
the
Holy
Peter
will
finish
it
in
his
own
good
time
,
and
avenge
himself
for
his
outrage
,
”
mused
the
wife
of
Flandrin
,
sorrowing
over
her
lost
Petrus
in
the
snowdrift
,
and
boxing
the
ears
of
little
Bernardou
,
as
he
huddled
in
her
chimney
corner
,
to
make
him
cease
from
weeping
.
When
they
went
back
with
their
priest
at
noon
to
the
hut
of
old
Manon
Dax
to
make
her
ready
for
her
burial
,
they
trembled
inwardly
lest
they
should
find
their
victim
there
,
and
lest
she
should
lift
her
voice
in
accusation
against
them
.
Their
hearts
misgave
them
sorely
.
Their
priest
,
a
cobbler’s
son
,
and
almost
as
ignorant
as
themselves
,
would
be
,
they
knew
,
on
their
own
side
;
but
they
were
sensible
that
they
had
let
their
fury
hurry
them
into
acts
which
could
easily
be
applauded
by
their
neighbours
,
but
not
so
easily
justified
to
the
law
.
“
For
the
law
is
over
good
,
”
said
Rose
Flandrin
,
“
and
takes
the
part
of
all
sorts
of
vile
creatures
.
It
will
protect
a
rogue
,
a
brigand
,
a
bullock
,
a
dog
,
a
witch
,
a
devil
—
anything
,
—
except
now
and
then
an
honest
woman
.
”
But
their
fears
were
groundless
;
she
was
gone
;
the
hut
when
they
entered
it
had
no
tenants
except
the
lifeless
famished
bodies
of
the
old
grandam
and
the
year‐old
infant
.
When
Folle‐Farine
had
heard
the
hut
door
close
,
and
the
steps
of
her
tormentors
die
away
down
the
hill
,
she
had
tried
vainly
several
times
to
raise
herself
from
the
floor
,
and
had
failed
.
She
had
been
so
suddenly
attacked
and
flung
down
and
trampled
on
,
that
her
brain
had
been
deadened
,
and
her
sense
had
gone
for
the
first
sharp
moment
of
the
persecution
.
As
she
lifted
herself
slowly
,
and
staggered
to
her
feet
,
and
saw
the
blood
trickle
where
the
nail
had
pierced
her
breast
,
she
understood
what
had
happened
to
her
;
and
her
face
grew
savage
and
dark
,
and
her
eyes
fierce
and
lustful
,
like
the
eyes
of
some
wild
beast
rising
wounded
in
his
lair
.
It
was
not
for
the
hurt
she
cared
;
it
was
the
shame
of
defeat
and
outrage
that
stung
her
like
a
whip
of
asps
.
She
stood
awhile
looking
at
the
dead
face
of
the
woman
she
had
aided
.
“
I
tried
to
help
you
,
”
she
thought
.
“
I
was
a
fool
.
I
might
have
known
how
they
pay
any
good
done
to
them
.
”
She
was
not
surprised
;
her
mind
had
been
too
deadened
by
a
long
course
of
ill
usage
to
feel
any
wonder
at
the
treatment
with
which
she
had
been
repaid
.
She
hated
them
with
the
mute
unyielding
hatred
of
her
race
,
but
she
hated
herself
more
because
she
had
yielded
to
the
softness
of
sorrow
and
pity
for
any
human
thing
;
and
more
still
because
she
had
not
been
armed
and
on
her
guard
,
and
had
suffered
them
to
prevail
and
to
escape
without
her
vengeance
.
“
I
will
never
come
abroad
without
a
knife
in
my
girdle
again
,
”
she
thought
—
this
was
the
lesson
that
her
charity
had
brought
her
as
its
teaching
.
She
went
out
hardening
her
heart
,
as
she
crept
through
the
doorway
into
the
snow
and
the
wind
,
so
that
she
should
not
leave
one
farewell
word
or
token
of
gentleness
with
the
dead
,
that
lay
there
so
tranquil
on
the
ashes
of
the
hearth
.
“
She
lied
,
even
in
her
last
breath
!
”
thought
Folle‐Farine
.
“
She
said
that
her
God
was
good
!
”
She
could
hardly
keep
on
her
own
homeward
way
.
All
her
limbs
were
stiff
and
full
of
pain
.
The
wound
in
her
chest
was
scarcely
more
than
skin
deep
,
yet
it
smarted
sorely
and
bled
still
.
Her
brain
was
dull
,
and
her
ears
were
filled
with
strange
noises
from
the
force
with
which
she
had
been
flung
backward
on
her
head
.
She
had
given
her
sheepskin
to
the
children
,
as
before
her
Phratos
had
done
;
and
one
of
the
peasants
had
carried
the
youngest
away
in
it
.
The
sharpness
of
the
intense
cold
froze
the
blood
in
her
as
she
crawled
through
a
gap
in
the
poplar
hedge
,
and
under
the
whitened
brambles
and
grasses
,
beyond
,
to
get
backward
to
the
mill
by
the
path
that
ran
through
the
woods
and
pastures
.
The
sun
had
risen
,
but
was
obscured
by
fog
,
through
which
it
shed
a
dull
red
ray
here
and
there
above
the
woods
in
the
east
.
It
was
a
bitter
morning
,
and
the
wind
,
though
it
had
abated
,
was
still
rough
,
and
drove
the
snow
in
clouds
of
powder
hither
and
thither
over
the
fields
.
She
could
only
move
very
slowly
,
very
stiffly
;
the
thorns
tearing
her
,
the
snow
blinding
her
,
the
icicles
lacerating
her
bare
feet
as
she
moved
.
She
wondered
,
dimly
,
why
she
lived
.
It
seemed
to
her
that
the
devil
,
when
he
had
made
her
,
must
have
made
her
out
of
sport
and
cruelty
,
and
then
tossed
her
into
the
world
to
be
a
scapegoat
and
a
football
for
any
creature
that
might
need
one
.
That
she
might
end
her
own
life
never
occurred
to
her
;
her
intelligence
was
not
awake
enough
to
see
that
she
need
not
have
borne
its
burden
one
hour
more
,
so
long
as
there
had
been
one
pool
in
the
woods
deep
enough
to
drown
her
under
its
green
weeds
and
lily
leaves
any
cool
summer
night
.
Nay
,
—
that
she
had
