The girl stood by her aged companion's bedside, overwhelmed with grief; she gazed at the venerable features of her who had taken care of her from childhood, of her only friend, who had been taken from her!--Marguerite seemed like one asleep; the serenity of her face indicated the serenity of her mind in its last moments. Sister Anne, standing beside the bed, with one hand resting upon it, could not tire of gazing at her adopted mother. Her grief was calm, but none the less profound; her eyes were dry, but their expression was none the less heartrending. She passed a large part of the day beside the good woman's lifeless remains; not without difficulty did she succeed in tearing herself away; but she knew that she must perform the last duties for Marguerite, that she must consign her to her last resting-place; and she realized that she was incapable of doing it alone, without assistance. She must go to the village, therefore, where she had not been seen for a long while. She left her cabin and went out of the woods on her way to Vizille. As she passed, she bowed, as usual, to those of the village women whom she knew; but she could not understand why they turned their heads away, or stared at her with contempt. Instead of stopping, as their custom was, to bid her good-day, they walked quickly away, and seemed desirous to avoid meeting her. The young men looked at her with mocking smiles; some pointed at her, whispering to one another; and not upon a single face did she observe the marks of interest which they were accustomed to manifest. "What can be the matter?" thought the poor child; "everybody seems to avoid me; is it because I am more unhappy than ever, because I have lost my kind mother, and Frédéric has abandoned me?" She forgot that she bore the testimony of her weakness; that pledge of love, of which she was so proud, was, in the eyes of the peasants, a proof of her shame. In villages, people are more severe than in cities; they set great store by innocence, because it is often the only treasure they possess. The good people of Vizille held very austere views on the subject of such falls from virtue: a girl who had been seduced became an object of general contempt, so long as her seducer did not repair her fault before the altar. Perhaps they should have been more indulgent to the dumb girl, who, living in the woods, did not know that she was culpable in yielding to the promptings of her heart. But peasants do not reason; they act in obedience to habit, and often mechanically. They had shown deep interest, so long as she was innocent as well as unfortunate; now that she bore manifest proofs of her weakness, they spurned her, without waiting to inquire whether she was not more unfortunate than before.