Elise Rouquet,
who troubled herself about nobody, was meantime holding her hand-glass,
absorbed in the contemplation of her face, which seemed to her to be
growing beautiful, now that the sore was healing. But what especially
charmed the dying woman was the sight of Marie, so lovely in her ecstasy.
She watched her for a long time, constantly attracted towards her, as
towards a vision of light and joy. Perhaps she fancied that she already
beheld one of the saints of Paradise amid the glory of the sun.
Suddenly, however, the fits of vomiting returned, and now she solely
brought up blood, vitiated blood, the colour of claret. The rush was so
great that it bespattered the sheet, and ran all over the bed. In vain
did Madame de Jonquiere and Madame Desagneaux bring cloths; they were
both very pale and scarce able to remain standing. Ferrand, knowing how
powerless he was, had withdrawn to the window, to the very spot where he
had so lately experienced such delicious emotion; and with an instinctive
movement, of which she was surely unconscious, Sister Hyacinthe had
likewise returned to that happy window, as though to be near him.
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