Pierre was wild with anguish. He pressed against the bars. "For
God's sake, let me in!" exclaimed he; "she is dying!"
The two quiet nuns who were in attendance shook their heads at
Pierre's appeal to open the door. They were too well disciplined in
the iron rule of the house to open it without an express order from
the Lady Superior, or from Mere Esther. Their bosoms, abounding in
spiritual warmth, responded coldly to the contagion of mere human
passion. Their ears, unused to the voice of man's love, tingled at
the words of Pierre. Fortunately, Mere Esther, ever on the watch,
came into the parlor, and, seeing at a glance the need of the hour,
opened the iron door and bade Pierre come in. He rushed forward and
threw himself at the feet of Amelie, calling her by the most tender
appellatives, and seeking to recall her to a consciousness of his
presence.
That loved, familiar voice overtook her spirit, already winging its
flight from earth, and brought it back for a few minutes longer.
Mere Esther, a skilful nurse, administered a few drops of cordial,
and, seeing her dying condition, sent instantly for the physician
and the chaplain.
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