Madelon's heart was full of sorrow; she had loved Jeanne-Marie
so much, and more and more perhaps, as years went on, and she
had learnt to understand better all that the woman had done
for her--and she had died alone--she who had saved her life.
When she came down again Louise had reappeared, and was
waiting to conduct them to the churchyard. The child went on
in front, and they followed her in silence down the village
street. It was already evening, the sun had sunk behind the
hills; the men were returning from their work; the children
were playing and shouting, and the women stood gossiping
before their doors. All was life and animation in the little
village, where a strange, silent woman had once passed to and
fro, with deeds and words of kindness for the suffering and
sorrowful, but who would be seen there no more.
"There is the grave," says Louise, pointing it out to them. It
was in a corner of the little graveyard; the earth was still
fresh over it, and the black cross at its head was one of the
newest amongst the hundred similar ones round about.
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