The doctor, who had made his first morning visit, had said that she
could not live through the day. She might, indeed, pass away at any
moment, without even having come to her senses at all. The Huberts,
resolute and grave, waited in silent despair. Notwithstanding their
grief and tears, it was evidently necessary that this should be the end.
If they had ever wished for this death, preferring to lose their dear
child rather than to have her rebellious, it was evident that God also
wished it with them, and now, that in this last trying moment they were
quite powerless, they could only submit themselves to the inevitable.
They regretted nothing, although their sorrow seemed greater than they
could bear. Since she, their darling, had been there, suffering from
her long illness, they had taken the entire care of her day and night,
refusing all aid offered them from outside. They were still there alone
in this supreme hour, and they waited.
Hubert, scarcely knowing what he did, walked mechanically to the
porcelain stove, the door of which he opened, for the gentle roaring of
the flaming wood sounded to him like a plaintive moan; then there was a
perfect silence. The peonies seemed even to turn paler in the soft heat
of the room.
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