“That act means that she will not marry again,” said Benassis; “this determination was expected by many of the relatives.”

“Take it, dear lord!” she said; her emotion brought a tremor to her voice that went to the hearts of all who heard her.  “I have sworn to be faithful; I give this pledge to you to keep in the grave.  We shall thus be united for ever, and through love of your children I will live on among the family in whom you used to feel yourself young again.  Oh! that you could hear me, my husband! the pride and joy of my heart!  Oh! that you could know that all my power to live, now you are dead, will yet come from you; for I shall live to carry out your sacred wishes and to honor your memory.”

Benassis pressed Genestas’ hand as an invitation to follow him, and they went out.  By this time the first room was full of people who had come from another mountain commune; all of them waited in meditative silence, as if the sorrow and grief that brooded over the house had already taken possession of them.  As Benassis and the commandant crossed the threshold, they overheard a few words that passed between one of the newcomers and the eldest son of the late owner.

“Then when did he die?”

“Oh!” exclaimed the eldest son, a man of five-and-twenty years of age, “I did not see him die.  He asked for me, and I was not there!” His voice was broken with sobs, but he went on:  “He said to me the night before, ’You must go over to the town, my boy, and pay our taxes; my funeral will put that out of your minds, and we shall be behindhand, a thing that has never happened before.’  It seemed the best thing to do, so I went; and while I was gone, he died, and I never received his last embrace.  I have always been at his side, but he did not see me near him at the last in my place where I had always been.”

“The master is dead!”

“Alas! he is dead, and I was not there to receive his last words and his latest sigh.  And what did the taxes matter?  Would it not have been better to lose all our money than to leave home just then?  Could all that we have make up to me for the loss of his last farewell.  No. Mon Dieu! If your father falls ill, Jean, do not go away and leave him, or you will lay up a lifelong regret for yourself.”

“My friend,” said Genestas, “I have seen thousands of men die on the battlefield; death did not wait to let their children bid them farewell; take comfort, you are not the only one.”

“But a father who was such a good man!” he replied, bursting into fresh tears.

Benassis took Genestas in the direction of the farm buildings.