"When will she come back again?" demanded Magda practically.

Upon which Virginie had made an unpleasant choking noise in her throat
and declared:

"Never!"

Magda was frankly incredulous. _Petite maman_ would never go away like
that and leave her behind! Of that she felt convinced, and said so.
Gulping back her sobs, Virginie explained that in this case madame had
been given no choice, but added that if Magda comported herself like a
good little girl, she would one day go to be with her in Paradise. Magda
found it all very puzzling.

But when, later, she was taken into her mother's room and saw the
slender, sheeted figure lying straight and still on the great bed,
hands meekly crossed upon the young, motionless breast, while tall white
candles burned at head and foot, the knowledge that _petite maman_ had
really gone from her seemed all at once to penetrate her childish mind.

That aloofly silent figure could not be her gay, pretty _petite
maman_--the one who had played and laughed with her and danced so
exquisitely that sometimes Magda's small soul had ached with the sheer
beauty and loveliness of it. . . .

She met Dr. Lancaster as she came out from the candle-lit room and
clutched him convulsively by the hand.

"Is that--being dead?" she whispered, pointing to the room she had just
quitted.