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among the Trappists。 I looked at the windows of the room where
Henriette was dying； fancying I saw the light that was burning there
the night I betrothed my soul to hers。 Ah！ ought I not to have
followed the simple life she had created for me； keeping myself
faithfully to her while I worked in the world？ Had she not bidden me
become a great man expressly that I might be saved from base and
shameful passions？ Chastity！ was it not a sublime distinction which I
had not know how to keep？ Love； as Arabella understood it； suddenly
disgusted me。 As I raised my humbled head asking myself where； in
future； I could look for light and hope； what interest could hold me
to life； the air was stirred by a sudden noise。 I turned to the
terrace and there saw Madeleine walking alone； with slow steps。 During
the time it took me to ascend the terrace； intending to ask the dear
child the reason of the cold look she had given me when kneeling at
the foot of the cross； she had seated herself on the bench。 When she
saw me approach her； she rose； pretending not to have seen me； and
returned towards the house in a significantly hasty manner。 She hated
me； she fled from her mother's murderer。
When I reached the portico I saw Madeleine like a statue； motionless
and erect； evidently listening to the sound of my steps。 Jacques was
sitting in the portico。 His attitude expressed the same insensibility
to what was going on about him that I had noticed when I first saw
him； it suggested ideas such as we lay aside in some corner of our
mind to take up and study at our leisure。 I have remarked that young
persons who carry death within them are usually unmoved at funerals。 I
longed to question that gloomy spirit。 Had Madeleine kept her thoughts
to herself； or had she inspired Jacques with her hatred？
〃You know； Jacques；〃 I said； to begin the conversation； 〃that in me
you have a most devoted brother。〃
〃Your friendship is useless to me； I shall follow my mother；〃 he said；
giving me a sullen look of pain。
〃Jacques！〃 I cried； 〃you； too； against me？〃
He coughed and walked away； when he returned he showed me his
handkerchief stained with blood。
〃Do you understand that？〃 he said。
Thus they had each of them a fatal secret。 I saw before long that the
brother and sister avoided each other。 Henriette laid low； all was in
ruins at Clochegourde。
〃Madame is asleep；〃 Manette came to say； quite happy in knowing that
the countess was out of pain。
In these dreadful moments； though each person knows the inevitable
end； strong affections fasten on such minor joys。 Minutes are
centuries which we long to make restorative； we wish our dear ones to
lie on roses； we pray to bear their sufferings； we cling to the hope
that their last moment may be to them unexpected。
〃Monsieur Deslandes has ordered the flowers taken away； they excited
Madame's nerves；〃 said Manette。
Then it was the flowers that caused her delirium； she herself was not
a part of it。
〃Come； Monsieur Felix；〃 added Manette； 〃come and see Madame； she is
beautiful as an angel。〃
I returned to the dying woman just as the setting sun was gilding the
lace…work on the roofs of the chateau of Azay。 All was calm and pure。
A soft light lit the bed on which my Henriette was lying； wrapped in
opium。 The body was； as it were； annihilated； the soul alone reigned
on that face； serene as the skies when the tempest is over。 Blanche
and Henriette； two sublime faces of the same woman； reappeared； all
the more beautiful because my recollection； my thought； my
imagination； aiding nature； repaired the devastation of each dear
feature； where now the soul triumphant sent its gleams through the
calm pulsations of her breathing。 The two abbes were sitting at the
foot of the bed。 The count stood； as though stupefied by the banners
of death which floated above that adored being。 I took her seat on the
sofa。 We all four turned to each other looks in which admiration for
that celestial beauty mingled with tears of mourning。 The lights of
thought announced the return of the Divine Spirit to that glorious
tabernacle。
The Abbe Dominis and I spoke in signs； communicating to each other our
mutual ideas。 Yes； the angels were watching her！ yes； their flaming
swords shone above that noble brow； which the august expression of her
virtue made； as it were； a visible soul conversing with the spirits of
its sphere。 The lines of her face cleared； all in her was exalted and
became majestic beneath the unseen incense of the seraphs who guarded
her。 The green tints of bodily suffering gave place to pure white
tones； the cold wan pallor of approaching death。 Jacques and Madeleine
entered。 Madeleine made us quiver by the adoring impulse which flung
her on her knees beside the bed； crying out； with clasped hand： 〃My
mother！ here is my mother！〃 Jacques smiled； he knew he would follow
her where she went。
〃She is entering the haven；〃 said the Abbe Birotteau。
The Abbe Dominis looked at me as if to say： 〃Did I not tell you the
star would rise in all its glory？〃
Madeleine knelt with her eyes fixed on her mother； breathing when she
breathed； listening to the soft breath； the last thread by which she
held to life； and which we followed in terror； fearing that every
effort of respiration might be the last。 Like an angel at the gates of
the sanctuary； the young girl was eager yet calm； strong but reverent。
At that moment the Angelus rang from the village clock…tower。 Waves of
tempered air brought its reverberations to remind us that this was the
sacred hour when Christianity repeats the words said by the angel to
the woman who has redeemed the faults of her sex。 〃Ave Maria！〃
surely； at this moment the words were a salutation from heaven。 The
prophecy was so plain； the event so near that we burst into tears。 The
murmuring sounds of evening； melodious breezes in the leafage； last
warbling of the birds； the hum and echo of the insects； the voices of
the waters； the plaintive cry of the tree…frog；all country things
were bidding farewell to the loveliest lily of the valley； to her
simple； rural life。 The religious poesy of the hour； now added to that
of Nature； expressed so vividly the psalm of the departing soul that
our sobs redoubled。
Though the door of the chamber was open we were all so plunged in
contemplation of the scene； as if to imprint its memories forever on
our souls； that we did not notice the family servants who were
kneeling as a group and praying fervently。 These poor people； living
on hope； had believed their mistress might be spared； and this plain
warning overcame them。 At a sign from the Abbe Birotteau the old
huntsman went to fetch the curate of Sache。 The doctor； standing by
the bed； calm as science； and holding the hand of the still sleeping
woman； had made the confessor a sign to say that this sleep was the
only hour without pain which remained for the recalled angel。 The