oisel and M. Rossignol sat in the office and received that
which represented one-fortieth of the value of each man's goods, estate,
and wealth--the fortieth value of a woodsawyer's cottage, or a widow's
garden. They did it impartially for all, as the Cure and three of the
best-to-do habitants had done for the Seigneur, whose four thousand
dollars had been paid in first of all.

Charley had been confined to his room for three days, because of his
injuries and a feverish cold he had caught, and the habitants did not
disturb his quiet. But Mrs. Flynn took him broth made by Rosalie's
hands, and Rosalie fought with her desire to go to him and nurse him.
She was not, however, the Rosalie of the old impulse and impetuous
resolve--the arrow had gone too deep; she waited till she could see
his face again and look into his eyes. Not apathy, but a sense of the
inevitable was upon her, and pale and fragile, but with a calm spirit,
she waited for she knew not what.

She felt that the day of fate was closing down. She must hold herself
ready for the hour when he would need her most. At first, when the
conviction had come to her that the end of all was near, she had
revolted. She had had impulse to go to him at all hazards, to say to
him: "Come away--anywhere, anywhere!" But that had given place to the
deeper thing in her, and something of Charley's spirit of stoic waiting
had come upon her.

She watched the people going to the Notary's office with their tributes
and free-will offerings, and they seemed like people in a play--these
days she lived no life which was theirs. It was a dream, unimportant and
temporary. She was feeling what was behind all life, and permanent.
It could not last, but there it was; and she could not return to the
transitory till this cloud of fate was lifted. She was much too young to
suffer so, but the young ever suffer most.

On the fourth day she saw Charley. He came from his shop and went to the
Notary's office. At first she was startled, for he was clean-shaven--the
fire had burned his beard to the skin. She saw a different man, far
removed from this life about them both--individual, singular. He was
pale, and his eye-glass, with the cleanshaven face, gave an impression
of refined separateness. She did not know that the same look was in both
their faces. She watched him till he entered the Notary's shop, then she
was called away to her duties.

Charley had come to give his one-fortieth with the rest.