“Well?”

“No improvement.  The doctor is very anxious:” 

She began to cry and could eat nothing, she was so worried.

The next day, as soon as it was light, she sent to inquire for her son, but there was no improvement and she spent the whole day in her room, where little braziers were giving out pungent odors.  Her maid said also that you could hear her sighing all the evening.

She spent a whole week in this manner, only going out for an hour or two during the afternoon to breathe the air.

She now sent to make inquiries every hour, and would sob when the reports were unfavorable.

On the morning of the eleventh day the priest, having been announced, entered her room, his face grave and pale, and said, without taking the chair she offered him: 

“Madame, your son is very ill and wishes to see you.”

She fell on her knees, exclaiming: 

“Oh, my God!  Oh, my God!  I would never dare!  My God!  My God!  Help me!”

The priest continued: 

“The doctor holds out little hope, madame, and George is expecting you!”

And he left the room.

Two hours later as the young lad, feeling himself dying, again asked for his mother, the abbe went to her again and found her still on her knees, still weeping and repeating: 

“I will not . . . .  I will not. . . .  I am too much afraid . . . .  I will not. . . .”

He tried to persuade her, to strengthen her, to lead her.  He only succeeded in bringing on an attack of “nerves” that lasted some time and caused her to shriek.

The doctor when he came in the evening was told of this cowardice and declared that he would bring her in himself, of her own volition, or by force.  But after trying all manner of argument and just as he seized her round the waist to carry her into her son’s room, she caught hold of the door and clung to it so firmly that they could not drag her away.  Then when they let go of her she fell at the feet of the doctor, begging his forgiveness and acknowledging that she was a wretched creature.  And then she exclaimed:  “Oh, he is not going to die; tell me that he is not going to die, I beg of you; tell him that I love him, that I worship him. . .”

The young lad was dying.  Feeling that he had only a few moments more to live, he entreated that his mother be persuaded to come and bid him a last farewell.  With that sort of presentiment that the dying sometimes have, he had understood, had guessed all, and he said:  “If she is afraid to come into the room, beg her just to come on the balcony as far as my window so that I may see her, at least, so that I may take a farewell look at her, as I cannot kiss her.”

The doctor and the abbe, once more, went together to this woman and assured her:  “You will run no risk, for there will be a pane of glass between you and him.”

She consented, covered up her head, and took with her a bottle of smelling salts.  She took three steps on the balcony; then, all at once, hiding her face in her hands, she moaned:  “No . . . no . . .  I would never dare to look at him . . . never. . . .  I am too much ashamed . . . too much afraid . . . .  No . . .  I cannot.”