[181] “Patience, Mère Marchette,” he said, nodding encouragingly; “all goes well.” She did not speak, but she gave him a look so eloquent with gratitude that words were not needed. Then she lay quiet again and the silent watch went on. Five minutes passed, ten, fifteen; the young doctor became extremely uneasy. At last in the distance he heard a clock strike one. At the sound Mère Marchette opened her eyes with a quick, startled glance. “Pierre!” she cried, in a voice of intense love and terror. “Victor has gone to the station to meet him; patience yet a little.” The old woman regarded him with a look of terrible pathos. “God could not let me die without seeing Pierre,” she murmured. At that moment, through the still afternoon, was heard the sound of a carriage. Mère Marchette’s eyes shone with a wild and fevered expression. “You must be calm,” Lommel said. “I will bring him to you.” [182] [182] He administered the little stimulant she could take, and passed quickly out into the corridor. V. Dr. Lommel closed the door of the ward behind him and started down the corridor, but at the first step he stopped suddenly with a terrible sinking of the heart. Victor was coming toward him, but alone, and with a white face. Dr. Lommel “Victor,” Jean cried, in a voice intense but low, “what has happened? Where is Pierre?” “There has been an accident,” Victor returned. “A bridge broke under his train.” “But you do not know—” began Lommel. “Yes,” the other interrupted; “M. de Brue, who was on the train and escaped with a broken arm, was in the same compartment with Pierre. He rode through on the engine that came in for help. Pierre had told him I was to meet him, and so when M. de Brue saw me he stopped to say that the
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