For some minutes longer the abbé continued his exhortations; then he ceased to speak, uncertain whether he had anything but a corpse before him. Madame de Piennes arose softly, and every one remained for a time immovable, anxiously regarding the livid face of Arsène. Her eyes were closed. Each one held his breath, lest he should disturb the terrible sleep which had perhaps already begun for her, and there could be distinctly heard in the chamber the ticking of a watch which lay upon the table.
"She is gone, the poor girl!" the nurse said at last, after holding her snuff-box to the lips of Arsène; "see, the glass is not tarnished. She is dead!"
"Poor child!" exclaimed Max, arousing from the stupor in which he seemed to be lost. "What happiness has she had in this world?"
Suddenly, and as though reanimated by his voice, Arsène opened her eyes.
"I have loved," she murmured in a hollow voice.
She moved her fingers and appeared to wish to stretch out her hands. Max and Madame de Piennes had approached and each took one of them.
"I have loved," she repeated with a sad smile.
