She approached the hearth with slow steps, blew on the embers, relighted
the lamp, and placing it so as to throw the light on her master's face, she
said to him anxiously:

--You are in pain, are you not?

--You were there then? said the Curé dissatisfied.

--Yes, she answered him with the affectionate tone of a mother, I was
there, pardon me; I was going to bed, and I heard you talking aloud, there
was no light; I feared you were ill, and I ventured to come in.

--And you have heard?

--I have heard that you were not happy, that is all.

--No one is happy in this world, Veronica.

--Yes, we are so only in the other, I know that. And yet happiness is so
easy.

The Curé put his head between his hands without replying.

The servant went on:

--Can it be that I, your servant, a poor ignorant village girl, should say
that to you, Monsieur le Curé?

--What, Veronica?