We gave ourselves up
as lost, and only escaped after all by a miracle."
He laid the boy down where he could get the full warmth of the
fire; and then, turning round, took a wicker-covered bottle from
his pocket, and said, "If it hadn't been for the brandy--" He
stopped suddenly--started--put down the bottle on the bench near
him--and advanced quickly to the bedside.
Perrine looked after him as he went; and saw Gabriel, who had
risen when the door was opened, moving back from the bed as
Francois approached. The young man's face seemed to have been
suddenly struck to stone--its blank, ghastly whiteness was awful
to look at. He moved slowly backward and backward till he came to
the cottage wall--then stood quite still, staring on his father
with wild, vacant eyes, moving his hands to and fro before him,
muttering, but never pronouncing one audible word.
Francois did not appear to notice his son; he had the coverlet of
the bed in his hand.
"Anything the matter here?" he asked, as he drew it down.
Still Gabriel could not speak. Perrine saw it, and answered for
him.
"Gabriel is afraid that his poor grandfather is dead," she
whispered, nervously.
"Dead!" There was no sorrow in the tone as he echoed the word.
"Was he very bad in the night before his death happened? Did he
wander in his mind? He has been rather light-headed lately."
"He was very restless, and spoke of the ghostly warnings that we
all know of; he said he saw and heard many things which told him
from the other world that you and Pierre-- Gabriel!" she
screamed, suddenly interrupting herself, "look at him! Look at
his face! Your grandfather is not dead!"
At this moment, Francois was raising his father's head to look
closely at him.
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