But Claire René's mind and heart were a flood of joy; she had no place
for doubt, no time for sorrow. She came out of the forest and stood
looking at the tiny, crumbling house. No longer was she afraid of the
silence. In but a short time her three brothers would fill the air with
laughter; they would carry her on their backs around the house and into
the forest, and grand'mère would stand waiting and smiling--and perhaps
scolding; who could tell?
She pushed her way through the doorway. The berries and leaves made a
tall screen about her; she could barely see grand'mère in her chair by
the window. She laid the branches on the hearth.
"There!" she said. "That's good."
Grand'mère was very quiet in her chair by the window. Her hands were
folded over her breast. There was something between her still fingers.
Claire René looked again, and then she screamed.
Madame Populet's eyes were open; they were fixed on the thin
blue-and-white envelope clasped in her hands. Claire René pressed her
fingers into her temples; she was afraid to speak aloud.