Night and day she had trudged, and she was more
brown and weather-beaten than ever.
"The black fever! the black fever!" cried the old woman. "I know it well.
It's most like a plague. I know it. But I know the cure-ha, ha! Come
along now, feather-legs, what are you staring there for? Hold that jug
while I pour the darling liquor in. Ha, ha! Crazy Joan hasn't lived for
nothing. They have to come to her; the great folks have to come to her!"
So she meandered on, filling the jug. Later, in the warm dusk, they
travelled up to Dalgrothe Mountain, and came to Valmond's tent. By the
couch knelt Parpon, watching the laboured breathing of the sick man. When
he saw Madame Degardy, he gave a growl of joy, and made way for her. She
pushed him back with her stick contemptuously, looked Valmond over, ran
her fingers down his cheek, felt his throat, and at last held his
restless hand. Elise, with the quick intelligence of love, stood ready.
The old woman caught the jug from her, swung it into the hollow of her
arm, poured the cup half full, and motioned the girl to lift up Valmond's
head. Elise raised it to her bosom, leaning her face down close to his.
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