saint-imbécile!' I cried out in my indignation. What, my Martin's
chamber which he had adorned for his bride! I was beside myself. And
they have an obstinacy these enthusiasts! But for that matter her friend
Madame de Bois-Sombre thought the same. She would have been one of the
_pleureuses_ herself had it not been for shame. 'Agnès wishes to aid the
_bon Dieu_, Madame,' she said, 'to make us suffer still a little more.'
The tone in which she spoke, and the contraction in her forehead, as if
our hospitality was not enough for her, turned my heart again to my
daughter-in-law. 'You have reason, Madame,' I cried; 'there are indeed
many ways in which Agnès does the work of the good God.' The
Bois-Sombres are poor, they have not a roof to shelter them save that of
the old hotel in Semur, from whence they were sent forth like the rest
of us. And she and her children owed all to Agnès. Figure to yourself
then my resentment when this lady directed her scorn at my
daughter-in-law. I am not myself noble, though of the _haute
bourgeoisie_, which some people think a purer race.

Long and terrible were the days we spent in this suspense. For ourselves
it was well that there was so much to do--the food to provide for all
this multitude, the little children to care for, and to prepare the
provisions for our men who were before Semur. I was in the Ardennes
during the war, and I saw some of its perils--but these were nothing to
what we encountered now. It is true that my son Martin was not in the
war, which made it very different to me; but here the dangers were such
as we could not understand, and they weighed upon our spirits. The seat
at the door, and that point where the road turned, where there was
always so beautiful a view of the valley and of the town of Semur--were
constantly occupied by groups of poor people gazing at the darkness in
which their homes lay. It was strange to see them, some kneeling and
praying with moving lips; some taking but one look, not able to endure