"You're quite right, Mademoiselle Teresa--but, you see, Mademoiselle Paula
was more to me than it seems she could mean to any one of you. I was a
drunkard and a robber--a monster of iniquity! I was despised and hated and
feared by everybody, and for good reason. But there in Celestina's kitchen
that day, Mademoiselle was not afraid to take these rough hands--these
hands that had been so often stained with crime and violence in her own
pure white ones to tell me she would help me! She it was who taught me to
pray. She it was who had prayed for me while I was in prison. I have seen
men ground to pieces in the gears of a machine in the factory. I've looked
on death in many terrible forms without shedding a tear--but this one!--oh,
Mademoiselle Paula! Would that I could have died in your place!" And again
quivering with emotion, the Breton turned and leaned against the wall to
hide his tears.
Suddenly a convulsion shook the form of my dear one and Dr. Lebon stepped
forward and took her hand. "The end is coming," he said.
My father dropped on his knees beside the bed. "Oh, Lord," he said, "I,
too, would be Thine own. Is it too late for me?"
At that moment a hand was laid on his shoulder. It was the same hand that
years ago had been laid on his wife's eyes to close them for the last time.
That same hand had tended and cared faithfully for his children ever since.
"Monsieur! My good Master!" said Teresa, in a tone of tender love and
respect such as I had never heard her use before, "It is not too late! He
has said, 'Him that cometh unto Me, I will in no wise cast out.'"
My father looked up. "Well, then, Teresa--I come to Him."
The dear old woman dropped on her knees and with folded hands simply said,
"Thanks, dear Lord, for Thou hast answered my prayer, and Paula's too!"
* * * * *
The storm of wind and rain had passed. In the little gardens of the "Red
Cottages" across the street, the flowers once again began to raise their
heads and the birds began to sing as the sun came out once more.
Suddenly there came a soft sigh from the still form on the bed. Dr. Lebon
nodded as he turned away. His task was ended. The Good Shepherd had taken
His tired lamb in His arms.
* * * * *
Then the sound of a deep voice was heard, saying,
"Except a corn of wheat fall into the ground and die it abideth alone, but
if it die, it bringeth forth much fruit."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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