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Updated: June 28, 2025
All at once, however, they became quite anxious, for they noticed that their father looked terribly upset. "My lads," said he, "I've just been a coward. Ah! it's a curious feeling, I had never experienced it before." Thereupon he recounted his fears of an accident, and how quietly Mere-Grand had saved them all from certain death.
His sons, Mere-Grand and Marie raised their heads. "I'm going out," he repeated, "/au revoir/." Still he did not go off. Pierre could divine that he was struggling, stiffening himself against the frightful tempest which was raging within him, striving to prevent either shudder or pallor from betraying his awful secret.
"Mere-Grand, Mere-Grand!" cried Marie in dismay; "you frighten us by refusing to answer us, by looking over there as if some misfortune were coming up at a gallop!" Then, prompted by the same anguish, the same cry suddenly came from Thomas, Francois and Antoine: "Father is in peril father is going to die!" What did they know? Nothing precise, certainly.
One could divine that directly there was any question of their father they were drawn together, blended one with the other, so that but one and the same heart beat in their three broad chests. However, a door at the far end of the workroom opened at that moment, and Mere-Grand, coming from the upper floor where she and Marie had their bedrooms, made her appearance.
"It would indeed be prudent of you to deprive yourselves of the pleasure of embracing him until he himself can come back here. It will be a matter of some two or three weeks," answered Pierre. Mere-Grand at once expressed approval of this. "No doubt," said she. "Nothing could be more sensible."
And, in the full light under the window, Mere-Grand and Marie likewise had their particular table, where needlework, embroidery, all sorts of chiffons and delicate things lay about near the somewhat rough jumble of retorts, tools and big books.
Once more Celine interrupted her, flinging her arms around her neck: "Oh! mamma, oh! mamma, don't say that, I beg you! It can't be true, it grieves me too much!" At this Pierre and Marie exchanged compassionate glances, while Mere-Grand rose from her chair, in order to go upstairs and search her wardrobes for some articles of clothing which might be of use to the two poor creatures.
Besides, I should like to finish what I'm about." Another quarter of an hour then elapsed. Finally, the three young men rose from their work, and went to wash their hands at a tap in the garden. "Marie is very late," now remarked Mere-Grand. "We must hope that nothing has happened to her." "Oh! she rides so well," replied Guillaume. "I'm more anxious on account of Pierre."
Mere-Grand, fortunately, was still there, erect and courageous; the household retained its queen, and in her the children found a manageress and teacher, schooled in adversity and heroism. Two years passed; and then came an addition to the family. A young woman, Marie Couturier, the daughter of one of Guillaume's friends, suddenly entered it.
"It would indeed be prudent of you to deprive yourselves of the pleasure of embracing him until he himself can come back here. It will be a matter of some two or three weeks," answered Pierre. Mere-Grand at once expressed approval of this. "No doubt," said she. "Nothing could be more sensible."
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