store by; like it, too, her face was very much worn,
having many deep ruts and undulations. But even
as oak remains polished and clean — a symbol of
courageous and seemly endurance — so the old
Mathilde remained polished and clean, especially
about the region of the cheek bones, and her peasant
cap was whiter than snow, as was also her neat little
muslin apron. Nor was her parlour any less spotless,
for Elise had become an excellent housewife, and
being deeply attached to her aunt she worked all
the harder because of those eyes that were heavily
filmed by approaching blindness.
'It is what tante Mathilde can no longer see that I
strive to make shine,3 she had once told Goundran.
And now Goundran said, pushing Christophe
forward: 'Here is the Benedit's elder son; I have
brought him to you, ma tante, as I promised/
Mathilde turned herself in the child's direction:
'Come to me, little Christophe/ she called very gently.
But her voice sounded muted and far away as is
sometimes the case with the voices of old people.
And because it fell strangely upon his ears, which
being so youthful were unaccustomed, Christophe
looked round in search of Goundran, for now once
again he was feeling rather frightened.
Then Mathilde held out a thin, questioning hand:
'Where are you, Christophe? I am nearly blind, so
unless you will come I shall never find you.9
He answered: 'I am coming;3 and he went to her
side, forgetting his fear through compassion for her
blindness.
She peered into his face, then she touched his
cropped head, and her hand felt cold as though it
were lifeless: 'Very little you are . . . very little and
young to begin such a journey as yours/ she murmured.
'But when you are come to the end of the journey
remember me, Christophe Benedit. . . .'