The sadness and folly of the present day, what do
they matter? It is _he_ perhaps who will put an end to them. He is for
every mother the miracle, the promised Messiah!...
Just as he was going, Clerambault ventured a word of sympathy as to
her husband. She sighed deeply:
"Poor Armand! I'm sure that he was taken prisoner."
"Have you had any news?" asked Clerambault.
"No, no, but it is more than probable.... I am almost certain. If not,
you know, I should have heard...."
She seemed to brush away the disagreeable thought, as if it were a
fly. (Go away! How did it get in here?)
Then she added, the smile coming back into her eyes:
"It will be much better for him, he can rest. I am easier about him
there, than when he was in the trenches...." And then, her mind
springing back to her world's wonder:
"Won't he be glad when he sees the treasure the good God has sent
me?"...
It was when Clerambault stood up to go that she condescended to
remember that there were sorrows still in the world. She thought of
Maxime's death, and did drop a word of pretty sympathy. But how clear
it was that at bottom she was completely indifferent! Absolutely so
... though full of good-will, which was something with her. More
surprising still, softened by her new happiness, she had a glimpse
of the tired face and sad heart of the old man.
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