She had been chosen because she was the eldest child of
the fourth generation. She was the daughter of Angeline, who was the
daughter of Berthe, who was the daughter of Charlotte, wife of Blaise.
And when the two ancestors saw her approach them with her big bouquet,
their emotion increased, happy tears again gathered in their eyes, and
recollections faltered on their lips: "Oh! our little Rose! Our Blaise,
our Charlotte!"
All the past revived before them. The name of Rose had been given to the
child in memory of the other long-mourned Rose, who had been the first to
leave them, and who slept yonder in the little cemetery. There in his
turn had Blaise been laid, and thither Charlotte had followed them. Then
Berthe, Blaise's daughter, who had married Philippe Havard, had given
birth to Angeline. And, later, Angeline, having married Georges Delmas,
had given birth to Rose. Berthe and Philippe Havard, Angeline and Georges
Delmas stood behind the child. And she represented one and all, the dead,
the living, the whole flourishing line, its many griefs, its many joys,
all the valiant toil of creation, all the river of life that it typified,
for everything ended in her, dear, frail, fair-haired angel, with eyes
bright like the dawn, in whose depths the future sparkled.
Pages:
744
745
746
747
748
749
750
751
752
753
754
755
756
757
758
759
760
761
762
763
764
765
766
767
768