"Now, seat this poor little creature near
the stove that she may be thawed out!"
Hubertine had already placed the child close to the fire, and they both
looked at her as she slowly regained consciousness. As the snow that
covered her clothes melted it fell in heavy drops. Through the holes of
her great shoes they could see her little bruised feet, whilst the thin
woollen dress designed the rigidity of her limbs and her poor body, worn
by misery and pain. She had a long attack of nervous trembling, and then
opened her frightened eyes with the start of an animal which suddenly
awakes from sleep to find itself caught in a snare. Her face seemed to
sink away under the silken rag which was tied under her chin. Her
right arm appeared to be helpless, for she pressed it so closely to her
breast.
"Do not be alarmed, for we will not hurt you. Where did you come from?
Who are you?"
But the more she was spoken to the more frightened she became, turning
her head as if someone were behind her who would beat her. She examined
the kitchen furtively, the flaggings, the beams, and the shining
utensils; then her glance passed through the irregular windows which
were left in the ancient opening, and she saw the garden clear to the
trees by the Bishop's house, whose white shadows towered above the wall
at the end, while at the left, as if astonished at finding itself there,
stretched along the whole length of the alley the Cathedral, with its
Romanesque windows in the chapels of its apses.
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