I could read the Mass, and the dear children would say their prayers night and morning at my knee." He paused awhile.

The unshed tears in his mild blue eyes struggled for freedom now, and one or two flowed slowly down his wrinkled cheek.
Marguerite, though heartsore and full of agonizing sorrow herself, felt her whole noble soul go out to this kind old man, so pathetic, so high and simple-minded in his grief.
She said nothing, however, and the Abbe continued after a few seconds' silence.
"When the children had gone, they brought you in here, mon enfant, and laid you on the paillasse where Felicite used to sleep.

You looked very white, and stricken down, like one of God's lambs attacked by the ravening wolf.

Your eyes were closed and you were blissfully unconscious.

I was taken before the governor of the prison, and he told me that you would share the cell with me for a time, and that I was to watch you night and day, because..." The old man paused again.