ght some accident had happened, when
they saw her trotting off like that.

The priest came immediately in his surplice, preceded by a choir-boy,
who rang a bell to announce the passage of the Host through the parched
and quiet country. Some men, working at a distance, took off their
large hats and remained motionless until the white vestment had
disappeared behind some farm buildings; the women who were making up
the sheaves stood up to make the sign of the cross; the frightened
black hens ran away along the ditch until they reached a well-known
hole through which they suddenly disappeared, while a foal, which was
tied up in a meadow, took fright at the sight of the surplice and began
to gallop round at the length of its rope, kicking violently. The
choir-boy, in his red cassock, walked quickly, and the priest, the
square biretta on his bowed head, followed him, muttering some prayers.
Last of all came La Rapet, bent almost double, as if she wished to
prostrate herself; she walked with folded hands, as if she were in
church.

Honore saw them pass in the distance, and he asked: "Where is our
priest going to?" And his man, who was more acute, replied: "He is
taking the sacrament to your mother, of course!"

The peasant was not surprised and said: "That is quite possible," and
went on with his work.

Mother Bontemps confessed, received absolution and extreme unction, and
the priest took his departure, leaving the two women alone in the
suffocating cottage. La Rapet began to look at the dying woman, and to
ask herself whether it could last much longer.

The day was on the wane, and a cooler air came in stronger puffs,
making a view of Epinal, which was fastened to the wall by two pins,
flap up and down. The scanty window curtains, which had formerly been
white, but were now yellow and covered with fly-specks, looked as it
they were going to fly off, and seemed to struggle to get away, like
the old woman's soul.

Lying motionless, with her eyes open, the old mother seemed to await
the death which was so near, and which yet delayed its coming; with
perfect indifference. Her short breath whistled in her throat. It would
stop altogether soon, and there would be one woman less in the world,
one whom nobody would regret.

At nightfall Honore returned, and when he went up to the bed and saw
that his mother was still alive he asked: "How is she?" just as he had
done formerly, when she had been sick. Then he sent La Rapet a