The poor mother relapsed into silence. She had wept until there were no more tears; and now resigned herself to what she considered the will of God. Her face was that of Madeline's, but thinner, and furrowed with the cares of time; and her hair, that had been once of the same golden color, was now fading into a silvery gray.
"Where is Monsieur?"
"He has gone to make arrangements for the funeral," answered the heroic Irène, who bore sorrow like a man. "Is there anything Madame wants?" she continued, kneeling beside her.
"No, nothing," answered the mother, as she raised her hands to the head of the faithful girl and pressed it against her breast.
It did not take long for the news of the death to spread over the town. A good many people knew Madeline, either familiarly or at least by sight, for from her earliest childhood she had gone out much with her father, holding his hand when she was small,as they walked along; and when she grew older she took his arm. Then Joseph succeeded the father in her affections; and by the time it was known that
