“Ah, ” Isaid, lostforwords.
Welookedatoneanotherinsilenceforalongtime, .
“SinceYolande...wasyourschoolmate...wouldyoulike...afterschoolatfouro'clock...forustogoandvisither?”
Onthesmall, muchtooseriousfacesthereappearedthetraceofsomesmiles, wary, stillsad, butsmilesjustthesame.
AtfirstpastfourIfoundmostofthemwaitingformeatthedoor, agood20children, , merelyheldmeenclosedintheircircle.
Together, inthisway, , .
, probably, : perhapsthepurchaseofacoffinintown, orafewmoreboardstomakeheronethemselves.
Thechildhadadelicatelittleface, verywasted, withtheseriousexpressionIhadseenonthefacesofmostofthechildrenhere, asifthecaresoftheadultshadcrushedthemalltooearly.Shemighthavebeen10or11yearsold.
, thoughIdidn'.
“Don'tyouthinkYolandewouldliketohavesomeonewithheralwaystillthetimecomestocommithertotheground?”
ThefacesofthechildrentoldmeIhadstrucktherightnote.
“We'lltaketurnsthen, fourorfivearoundhereverytwohours, .”
, theynowfeltatrustinmesocompleteitterrifiedme.
Inaclearingamongthesprucetreesashortdistanceaway, Inoticedabright-pinkstainonthegroundwhosesourceIdidn', makingitflame, theonemomentinthisdaythathadbeentouchedbyacertaingrace.
“Whatsortofgirlwasshe?” Iasked.
Atfirstthechildrendidn', “Shewassmart, Yolande.”
“Anddidshedowellinschool?”
“Shedidn'.”
“OurteacherbeforelastsaidYolandecouldhavedonewell.”
“WhatdidYolandedieof?”
“Tuberculosis, mamzelle,” theyrepliedwithasinglevoice, asifthiswasthecustomarywayforchildrentodiearoundhere.
