She could not recover her ease of mind until she had the certainty that she was still beloved.

Were her faith in that unshaken she would be perfectly at rest.

If loved, she could bear anything.

A fit of being charitable had again taken possession of her, so that she was touched by the slightest suffering, and her eyes were filled with tears ready to overflow at any moment.

The old man Mascart made her give him tobacco, and the Chouarts drew from her everything they wished, even to preserved fruits.