Between her knees she held the child, combing
his hair. She stopped when she saw the visitors enter, and the child
ran towards the Count who took him in his arms.
The presents they had brought were unwrapped by the girls. Blouses,
trousers, clothes for the baby, a woollen dress, a muslin dress, with
two beautiful fichus in true Breton style for the grandmother. One box
contained sugar, coffee, and six jars of preserves; another, smoked
bacon, salt pork, two bottles of candy and prunes, and six bottles of
red wine. The old woman looked, caressingly felt everything with her
old knotted fingers, while the tears ran down the furrows that sorrow
had hollowed in each cheek.
"Ah! if my son had had such good things, perhaps he would not have
died!"
And she stood before the food with her hands crossed, her eyes lost in
the distance among old far off memories. Esperance undressed the
little fellow, and Genevieve looked for water to wash him before
putting on his new clothes, but despairing of finding any, she tried
to draw the old woman back from her dream.
"Water?" she said. "I have been too weak these three days to go to the
well. There is none here but what is in that pitcher there, on the
board, but don't take it, Mam'selle, the baby is always thirsty."
Genevieve raised her beautiful arm in its loose sleeve and picked up
the pitcher. She looked at the water and asked with surprise, "This is
the water you drink?"
"Yes, the cistern is empty, on account of the drought we have had
these two months, and the spring is a mile away.
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