His lips closed after that cry, and seemed as if they would never open again.  He shut his eyes weariedly.  Feebly and fitfully came his gasps for breath, and he moaned at times.  But still his fingers held me fast, though the slightest effort of mine would have set me free.  I left my hand in his cold grasp, and spoke to him whenever he moaned.

“Martin,” he breathed between his set teeth, though so low that only my ear could catch the words, “Martin—­could—­have saved—­me.”

There was another long silence.  I could hear the chirping of the sparrows in the thatched roof, but no other sound broke the deep stillness.  Monsieur Laurentie and Tardif stood at the foot of the bed, looking down upon us both, but I only saw their shadows falling across us.  My eyes were fastened upon the face I should soon see no more.  The little light there was seemed to be fading away from it, leaving it all dark and blank; eyelids closed, lips almost breathless; an unutterable emptiness and confusion creeping over every feature.

“Olivia!” he cried, once again, in a tone of mingled anger and entreaty.

“I am here,” I answered, laying my other hand upon his, which was at last relaxing its hold, and falling away helplessly.  But where was he?  Where was the voice which half a minute ago called Olivia?  Where was the life gone that had grasped my hand?  He had not heard my answer, or felt my touch upon his cold fingers.

Tardif lifted me gently from my place beside him, and carried me away into the open air, under the overshadowing eaves.

CHAPTER THE TWENTY-SECOND.

FREE.

The rest of that day passed by like a dream.  Jean had come down with the daily supply of food, and I heard Monsieur Laurentie call to him to accompany me back to the presbytery, and to warn every one to keep away from me, until I could take every precaution against spreading infection.  He gave me minute directions what to do, and I obeyed them automatically and mechanically.  I spent the whole day in my room alone.

At night, after all the village was silent, with the moon shining brilliantly down upon the deserted streets, the sound of stealthy footsteps came to me through my window.  I pulled the casement open and looked out.  There marched four men, with measured steps, bearing a coffin on their shoulders, while Monsieur Laurentie followed them bareheaded.  It was my husband’s funeral; and I sank upon my knees, and remained kneeling till I heard them return from the little cemetery up the valley, where so many of the cure’s flock had been buried.  I prayed with all my heart that no other life would be forfeited to this pestilence, which had seemed to have passed away from us.