La Rapet went up to the bed and looked at the dying woman, felt her pulse, tapped her on the chest, listened to her breathing, and asked her questions, so as to hear her speak; and then, having looked at her for some time, she went out of the room, followed by Honore.  Her decided opinion was that the old woman would not last till night.  He asked:  “Well?” And the sick-nurse replied:  “Well, she may last two days, perhaps three.  You will have to give me six francs, everything included.”

“Six francs! six francs!” he shouted.  “Are you out of your mind?  I tell you she cannot last more than five or six hours!” And they disputed angrily for some time, but as the nurse said she must go home, as the time was going by, and as his wheat would not come to the farmyard of its own accord, he finally agreed to her terms.

“Very well, then, that is settled; six francs, including everything, until the corpse is taken out.”

And he went away, with long strides, to his wheat which was lying on the ground under the hot sun which ripens the grain, while the sick-nurse went in again to the house.

She had brought some work with her, for she worked without ceasing by the side of the dead and dying, sometimes for herself, sometimes for the family which employed her as seamstress and paid her rather more in that capacity.  Suddenly, she asked:  “Have you received the last sacraments, Mother Bontemps?”

The old peasant woman shook her head, and La Rapet, who was very devout, got up quickly: 

“Good heavens, is it possible?  I will go and fetch the cure”; and she rushed off to the parsonage so quickly that the urchins in the street thought some accident had happened, when they saw her running.

The priest came immediately in his surplice, preceded by a choir boy who rang a bell to announce the passage of the Host through the parched and quiet country.  Some men who were working at a distance took off their large hats and remained motionless until the white vestment had disappeared behind some farm buildings; the women who were making up the sheaves stood up to make the sign of the cross; the frightened black hens ran away along the ditch until they reached a well-known hole, through which they suddenly disappeared, while a foal which was tied in a meadow took fright at the sight of the surplice and began to gallop round and round, kicking cut every now and then.  The acolyte, in his red cassock, walked quickly, and the priest, with his head inclined toward one shoulder and his square biretta on his head, followed him, muttering some prayers; while last of all came La Rapet, bent almost double as if she wished to prostrate herself, as she walked with folded hands as they do in church.

Honore saw them pass in the distance, and he asked:  “Where is our priest going?” His man, who was more intelligent, replied:  “He is taking the sacrament to your mother, of course!”

The peasant was not surprised, and said:  “That may be,” and went on with his work.