“What’s that? Is he dead?” said the woman, as if she had understood the foreign word the doctor had used.

“Not yet, but there is no hope!” replied he.

“Then I must send for the priest,” said the woman in a dissatisfied voice, rocking the screaming baby more and more violently.

“If only my husband was at home!⁠ ⁠… But now, who can I send? They’ve all gone to the forest for firewood.”

“I can do nothing more here,” said the doctor; and we went away.

I heard afterwards that the woman found someone to send for the priest, who had just time to administer the Sacrament to the dying man.

We drove home in silence, both, I think, experiencing the same feeling.

“What was the matter with him?” I asked at length.