She had, at his
bidding sunk upon the chair, but she could hardly be said to be seated,
as, with her knees bent under her, and her hands clasped, she gazed up
into his face. She felt that her husband was dead but still, till the
fatal word was spoken, there was hope enough within her heart to feed
the agony of doubt which was tormenting her. Marie had hitherto said
nothing; she had made her own grief subservient to that of her brother's
wife, and, though hardly less anxious, she was less agitated than the
other.
"I cannot tell you anything with certainty, Madame," said the priest at
last. "I cannot--"
"Then you do not know that he is dead! Then there is, at any rate, some
room for hope!" said she, not allowing him to finish what he was about
to say; and she sank back in the chair, and relieved her overwrought
mind with a flood of tears.
The priest was firmly convinced that de Lescure was at this moment
numbered among the dead, and his conscience forbad him to relieve
himself of his dreadful task, by allowing her to entertain a false hope;
he had still, therefore, to say the words which he found it so difficult
to utter.
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