my good man is in heaven: his room, which I have kept sacred, shall be
given up to the poor.' But oh! the confusion of the stumbling, weary
feet; the little children that dropped by the way, and caught at our
skirts, and wailed and sobbed; the poor mothers with babes upon each
arm, with sick hearts and failing limbs. One cry seemed to rise round us
as we went, each infant moving the others to sympathy, till it rose like
one breath, a wail of 'Maman! Maman!' a cry that had no meaning,
through having so much meaning. It was difficult not to cry out too in
the excitement, in the labouring of the long, long, confused, and
tedious way. 'Maman! Maman!' The Holy Mother could not but hear it. It
is not possible but that she must have looked out upon us, and heard us,
so helpless as we were, where she sits in heaven.

When we got to La Clairière we were ready to sink down with fatigue like
all the rest--nay, even more than the rest, for we were not used to it,
and for my part I had altogether lost the habitude of long walks. But
then you could see what Madame Martin was. She is slight and fragile and
pale, not strong, as any one can perceive; but she rose above the needs
of the body. She was the one among us who rested not. We threw open all
the rooms, and the poor people thronged in. Old Léontine, who is the
_garde_ of the house, gazed upon us and the crowd whom we brought with
us with great eyes full of fear and trouble. 'But, Madame,' she cried,
'Madame!' following me as I went above to the better rooms. She pulled
me by my robe. She pushed the poor women with their children away.
'_Allez donc, allez_!--rest outside till these ladies have time to speak
to you,' she said; and pulled me by my sleeve. Then 'Madame Martin is
putting all this _canaille_ into our very chambers,' she cried. She had
always distrusted Madame Martin, who was taken by the peasants for a
clerical and a dévote, because she was noble. 'The _bon Dieu_ be praised
that Madame also is here, who has sense and will regulate everything.'