foot in church since her first communion. She knew that she was lost,
that a cancer in the chest was eating into her; and she already had the
haggard, orange-hued mark of the cancerous patient. Since the beginning
of the journey she had not spoken a word, but, suffering terribly, had
remained with her lips tightly closed. Then all at once, she had swooned
away after an attack of vomiting.

"It is unbearable!" murmured Madame de Jonquiere, who herself felt faint;
"we must let in a little fresh air."

Sister Hyacinthe was just then laying La Grivotte to rest on her pillows,
"Certainly," said she, "we will open the window for a few moments. But
not on this side, for I am afraid we might have a fresh fit of coughing.
Open the window on your side, madame."

The heat was still increasing, and the occupants of the carriage were
stifling in that heavy evil-smelling atmosphere. The pure air which came
in when the window was opened brought relief however. For a moment there
were other duties to be attended to, a clearance and cleansing. The
Sister emptied the basins out of the window, whilst the lady-hospitaller
wiped the shaking floor with a sponge. Next, things had to be set in
order; and then came a fresh anxiety, for the fourth patient, a slender
girl whose face was entirely covered by a black fichu, and who had not
yet moved, was saying that she felt hungry.

With quiet devotion Madame de Jonquiere immediately tendered her
services. "Don't you trouble, Sister," she said, "I will cut her bread
into little bits for her."

Marie, with the need she felt of diverting her mind from her own