hearing
her complain of a frightful headache. And this had put Madame Desagneaux
in quite a temper; for, as she sensibly enough remarked, a person had no
business to offer to nurse the sick when the slightest exertion exhausted
her. She herself, however, at last began to feel her legs and arms
aching, though she would not admit it, but hastened to every patient whom
she heard calling, ever ready as she was to lend a helping hand. In Paris
she would have rung for a servant rather than have moved a candlestick
herself; but here she was ever coming and going, bringing and emptying
basins, and passing her arms around patients to hold them up, whilst
Madame de Jonquiere slipped pillows behind them. However, shortly after
eleven o'clock, she was all at once overpowered. Having imprudently
stretched herself in the armchair for a moment's rest, she there fell
soundly asleep, her pretty head sinking on one of her shoulders amidst
her lovely, wavy fair hair, which was all in disorder. And from that
moment neither moan nor call, indeed no sound whatever, could waken her.

Madame de Jonquiere, however, had softly approached the young priest
again. "I had an idea," said she in a low voice, "of sending for Monsieur
Ferrand, the house-surgeon, you know, who accompanies us. He would have
given the poor girl something to calm her. Only he is busy downstairs
trying to relieve Brother Isidore, in the Family Ward. Besides, as you
know, we are not supposed to give medical attendance here; our work
consists in placing our dear sick ones in the hands of the Blessed
Virgin."

Sister Hyacinthe, who had made up her mind to spend the night with the
superintendent, now drew, near. "I have just come from the Family Ward,"
she said; "I went to take Monsieur Sabathier some oranges which I had
promised him, and I saw Monsieur Ferrand, who had just succeeded in
reviving Brother Isidore. Would you like me to go down and fetch him?"

But Pierre declined the offer. "No, no," he replied, "Marie will be
sensible. I will read her a few consoling pages by-and-by, and then she
will rest."

For the moment, however, the girl still remained obstinately silent. One
of the two lanterns was hanging from the wall close by, and Pierre could
distinctly see her thin face, rigid and motionless like stone. Then,
farther away, in the adjoining bed, he perceived Elise Rouquet, who was
sound asleep and no longer wore her fichu, but openly displayed her face,
the ulcerat