persistent fall of snow continued. The cold seemed to increase with the
wan daylight, and in the dull thickness of the great white shroud which
covered the town one heard, as if from a distance, the sound of voices.
But timid, ashamed of her abandonment, as if it were a fault, the
child drew still farther back, when suddenly she recognised before her
Hubertine, who, having no servant, had gone out to buy bread.

"What are you doing there, little one? Who are you?"

She did not answer, but hid her face. Then she was no longer conscious
of suffering; her whole being seemed to have faded away, as if her
heart, turned to ice, had stopped beating. When the good lady turned
away with a pitying look, she sank down upon her knees completely
exhausted, and slipped listlessly into the snow, whose flakes quickly
covered her.

And the woman, as she returned with her fresh rolls, seeing that she had
fallen, again approached her.

"Look up, my child! You cannot remain here on this doorstep."

Then Hubert, who had also come out, and was standing near the threshold,
took the bread from his wife, and said:

"Take her up and bring her into the house."

Hubertine did not reply, but, stooping, lifted her in her strong arms.
And the child shrank back no longer, but was carried as if inanimate;
her teeth closely set, her eyes shut, chilled through and through, and
with the lightness of a little bird that had just fallen from its nest.