"Someone there to see your wounded, madame--" said the man who did not
know----
Paralyzed, fixed to the floor, she could not move. She saw coming
toward her, shrouded in an impressive silence, a woman--one of those
women of France, good mother, good wife, good patriot, accustomed from
youth to go through a harsh and bitter life as the wife of a laboring
man, with serenity----
She went straight to him. The nurse followed her with her glance. She
could no longer see her face, but saw the woman bend a great while over
her dead. Of what was she thinking? Of the Calvary of her man, of his
wound, of his agony, or rather of her own sadness, or the children for
whom she would have to struggle----
She turned and, coming toward her:
"Is it you, madame, who have cared for him? Permit me to kiss you."