Then followed hours of hushed uncertainty, when people went to and fro with hurried, muffled footsteps and spoke together in whispers, while Virginie's face grew yellow and drawn-looking, and the tears trickled down her wrinkled-apple cheeks whenever one spoke to her.
Last of all someone told Magda that "_petite maman_" had gone away--and on further inquiry Virginie vouchsafed that she had gone to somewhere called Paradise to be with the blessed saints.
"When will she come back again ?" demanded Magda practically.
Upon which Virginie had made an unpleasant choking noise in her throat and declared: "Never!" Magda was frankly incredulous.

_Petite maman_ would never go away like that and leave her behind! Of that she felt convinced, and said so.
Gulping back her sobs, Virginie explained that in this case madame had been given no choice, but added that if Magda comported herself like a good little girl, she would one day go to be with her in Paradise.

Magda found it all very puzzling.
But when, later, she was taken into her mother's room and saw the slender, sheeted figure lying straight and still on the great bed, hands meekly crossed upon the young, motionless breast, while tall white candles burned at head and foot, the knowledge that _petite maman_ had really gone from her seemed all at once to penetrate her childish mind.
That aloofly silent figure could not be her gay, pretty _petite maman_--the one who had played and laughed with her and danced so exquisitely that sometimes Magda's small soul had ached with the sheer beauty and loveliness of it.

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