And he sobbed distractedly: a sudden
attack of weakness, overflowing in tears, cast him there exhausted, with
no more strength than a child. It was as if all his sufferings since the
morning, the deep grief with which universal injustice and woe inspired
him, were bursting forth in that flood of tears which nothing now could
stay. And Guillaume, who, to calm his little brother, had set his hand
upon his head, in the same way as he had often caressingly stroked his
hair in childhood's days, likewise felt upset and remained silent, unable
to find a word of consolation, resigned, as he was, to the eruption which
in life is always possible, the cataclysm by which the slow evolution of
nature is always liable to be precipitated. But how hard a fate for the
wretched ones whom the lava sweeps away in millions! And then his tears
also began to flow amidst the profound silence.
"Pierre," he gently exclaimed at last, "you must have some dinner. Go, go
and have some. And screen the lamp; leave me by myself, and let me close
my eyes. It will do me good."
Pierre had to content him. Still, he left the dining-room door open; and,
weak for want of food, though he had not hitherto noticed it, he ate
standing, with his ears on the alert, listening lest his brother should
complain or call him. And the silence seemed to have become yet more
complete, the little house sank, as it were, into annihilation, instinct
with all the melancholy charm of the past.
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