going to see him again, soon, when I am dead. See him again ... think
of it! The first! Before thou! I shall not dare. I must ... I am going
to die ... I want you to forgive me. I want it ... I cannot go off to
meet him without that. Oh, tell her to forgive me, Monsieur le Curé,
tell her ... I implore you to do it. I cannot die without that...."

* * * * *

She was silent, and remained panting, always scratching the sheet with
her withered nails.

Suzanne had hidden her face in her hands, and did not move. She was
thinking of him whom she might have loved so long! What a good life
they should have lived together! She saw him once again in that
vanished bygone time, in that old past which was put out forever. The
beloved dead--how they tear your hearts! Oh, that kiss, his only kiss!
She had hidden it in her soul. And after it nothing, nothing more her
whole life long!

* * * * *

All of a sudden the priest stood straight, and, with a strong vibrant
voice, he cried:

"Mademoiselle Suzanne, your sister is dying!"

Then Suzanne, opening her hands, showed her face soaked with tears, and
throwing herself upon her sister, she kissed her with all her might,
stammering: