"I'll be there when they come for me," said she, and went swiftly down the road and out of sight in the converging distance of trees, with the snow muffling her footsteps.
When she reached home she groped her way into the living-room, which was lighted only by the low, red gleam of the coals on the hearth.
Her father's gruff voice called out from the bedroom beyond: "That you, Madelon ?" "Yes," said she, and lighted a candle at the coals.
"Have the boys come ?" "No." Madelon went up the steep stairs to her chamber, but before she opened her door her brother Louis's voice, broken with pain, besought her to come into his room and bathe his sprained shoulder for him.
She went in, set the candle on the table, and rubbed in the cider-brandy and wormwood without a word.

Louis, in the midst of his pain, kept looking up wonderingly at his sister's face.

It looked as if it were frozen.

She did not seem to see him.

Nothing about her seemed alive but her gently moving hands.
Suddenly he gave a startled cry.