“Yes,” the widow went on, “he is dead!  Our beloved who gave us our bread, who sowed and reaped for us, who watched over our happiness, who guided us through life, who ruled so kindly among us. Now, I may speak in his praise, and say that he never caused me the slightest sorrow; he was good and strong and patient.  Even while we were torturing him for the sake of his health, so precious to us, ’Let it be, children, it is all no use,’ the dear lamb said, just in the same tone of voice with which he had said, ’Everything is all right, friends,’ only a few days before.  Ah! grand Dieu! a few days ago!  A few days have been enough to take away the gladness from our house and to darken our lives, to close the eyes of the best, most upright, most revered of men.  No one could plow as he could.  Night or day, he would go about over the mountains, he feared nothing, and when he came back he had always a smile for his wife and children.  Ah! he was our beloved!  It was dull here by the fireside when he was away, and our food lost all its relish.  Oh! how will it be now, when our guardian angel will be laid away under the earth, and we shall never see him any more?  Never any more, dear kinsfolk and friends; never any more, my children!  Yes, my children have lost their kind father, our relations and friends have lost their good kinsman and their trusty friend, the household has lost its master, and I have lost everything!”

She took the hand of the dead again, and knelt, so that she might press her face close to his as she kissed it.  The servants’ cry, “The master is dead!” was again repeated three times.

Just then the eldest son came to his mother to say, “The people from Saint-Laurent have just come, mother; we want some wine for them.”

“Take the keys,” she said in a low tone, and in a different voice from that in which she had just expressed her grief; “you are the master of the house, my son; see that they receive the welcome that your father would have given them; do not let them find any change.

“Let me have one more long look,” she went on.  “But alas! my good husband, you do not feel my presence now, I cannot bring back warmth to you!  I only wish that I could comfort you still, could let you know that so long as I live you will dwell in the heart that you made glad, could tell you that I shall be happy in the memory of my happiness —­that the dear thought of you will live on in this room.  Yes, as long as God spares me, this room shall be filled with memories of you.  Hear my vow, dear husband!  Your couch shall always remain as it is now.  I will sleep in it no more, since you are dead; henceforward, while I live, it shall be cold and empty.  With you, I have lost all that makes a woman:  her master, husband, father, friend, companion, and helpmate:  I have lost all!”

“The master is dead!” the servants wailed.  Others raised the cry, and the lament became general.  The widow took a pair of scissors that hung at her waist, cut off her hair, and laid the locks in her husband’s hand.  Deep silence fell on them all.