I could not tell what he meant; but I asked no more. How still
everything was The people lay asleep on the grass, and I, too, was
overwhelmed by the great quiet. I do not know if I slept, but I dreamed.
I saw a child very fair and tall always near me, but hiding her face. It
appeared to me in my dream that all I wished for was to see this hidden
countenance, to know her name; and that I followed and watched her, but
for a long time in vain. All at once she turned full upon me, held out
her arms to me. Do I need to say who it was? I cried out in my dream to
the good God, that He had done well to take her from me--that this was
worth it all. Was it a dream? I would not give that dream for rears of
waking life. Then I started and came back, in a moment, to the still
morning sunshine, the sight of the men asleep, the roughness of the wall
against which I leant. Some one laid a hand on mine. I opened my eyes,
not knowing what it was--if it might be my husband coming back, or her
whom I had seen in my dream. It was M. Lecamus. He had risen up upon his
knees--his papers were all laid aside. His eyes in those hollow caves
were opened wide, and quivering with a strange light. He had caught my
wrist with his worn hand. 'Listen!' he said; his voice fell to a
whisper; a light broke over his face. 'Listen!' he cried; 'they are
coming.' While he thus grasped my wrist, holding up his weak and
wavering body in that strained attitude, the moments passed very slowly.
I was afraid of him, of his worn face and thin hands, and the wild
eagerness about him. I am ashamed to say it, but so it was. And for this
reason it seemed long to me, though I think not more than a minute, till
suddenly the bells rang out, sweet and glad as they ring at Easter for
the resurrection. There had been ringing of bells before, but not like
this. With a start and universal movement the sleeping men got up from
where they lay--not one but every one, coming out of the little hollows
and from under the trees as if from graves. They all sprang up to
listen, with one impulse; and as for me, knowing that Martin was in the
city, can it be wondered at if my heart beat so loud that I was
incapable of thought of others! What brought me to myself was the
strange weight of M. Lecamus on my arm. He put his other hand upon me,
all cold in the brightness, all trembling. He raised himself thus slowly
to his feet. When I looked at him I shrieked aloud. I forgot all else.
His face