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Once more Michel made a journey-alone to the Ecrehos, and there, under the ruins of the old Abbey of Val Richer, he buried the twain he had loved. Not once in all the terrible hours had he shed a tear; not once had his hand trembled; his face was like stone, and his eyes burned with an unearthly light. He did not pray beside the graves; but he knelt and kissed the earth again and again.
Once more Michel made a journey-alone to the Ecrehos, and there, under the ruins of the old Abbey of Val Richer, he buried the twain he had loved. Not once in all the terrible hours had he shed a tear; not once had his hand trembled; his face was like stone, and his eyes burned with an unearthly light. He did not pray beside the graves; but he knelt and kissed the earth again and again.
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