The girl stood wondering, her fine, calm face expressing the quick
thoughts which had belonged to eyes once so full of hope and blithe
desire. The serenity of her life--its charity, its truth, its cheerful
care for others, the confidence of the young which it invited, showed in
all the aspect of her. She heard the flapping of the flag in the Cure's
garden, and turned her darkened eyes towards it. A look of pain crossed
her face, and a hand trembled to her bosom, as if to ease a great
throbbing of her heart. These cannon shots and this shivering pennant
brought back a scene at the four corners, years before.
Footsteps came over the hill: she knew them, and turned.
"Parpon!" she said, with a glad gesture.
Without a word he placed in her hand a bunch of violets that he carried.
She lifted them to her lips. "What is it all?" she asked, turning again
to the Tricolor.
"Louis Napoleon enters the Tuileries," he answered. "But ours was the son
of the Great Emperor!" she said. "Let us be going, Parpon: we will plats
these on his grave." She pressed the violets to her heart.
"France would have loved him, as we did," said the dwarf, as they moved
on.
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