Her memory brought with them many exhortations and sayings from the sacred books, but none of them seemed to mean just what she knew that little speech of his must mean if she could quite understand it.
She had come to life again unexpectedly, and the spell of her dreadful solitude was broken.

She did not think it strange that her eyes were dry as she gazed at the well-loved face, while the inner voice told her that there was 'no such thing as death.' The dead man had done his duty, and he expected her to do hers until the time came for them to meet for ever.
In the aimless wandering of her thoughts during the past weeks she had only understood that he was gone.

In an uncounted moment, while she had been turning over the leaves of a book, or idly talking with Madame Bernard, or plucking a withered leaf from one of the plants outside the window, he had been fighting for his life and had lost it.
Perhaps she had been quietly asleep just then.

She had heard people say they were sure that if anything happened to those they dearly loved, some warning would reach them; she had heard tales of persons appearing at the moment of their death to those dearest to them, and even to indifferent people.

Such stories were but idle talk, for while she had been reading the news out to Madame Bernard, she had been expecting to hear that the expedition was advancing successfully on its way, she had been wondering what chance there was of getting a letter from the interior, she had been intimately convinced that Giovanni was safe, well, and making good progress, when he had been dead a fortnight.
Madame Bernard had read the details, so far as they were known, but she had wisely said nothing except that the news was fully confirmed.
Angela herself had refused to touch a newspaper since that day; it had been enough that he was gone--to know how, or even to guess, would be a suffering she could not face.