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Marguerite is still conscious of what goes on around her, and she
suffers in body,tears trickle down her cheeks, so
thin and pale that you would never recognise the face of her whom you
loved so much, if you could see her She has er write, and I write before her She turns her
eyes toward er seesof death; yet she shts, all her
soul are yours, I ahten, and she thinks you are
going to come in; then, when she sees that it is not you, her face
resumes its sorrowful expression, a cold sweat breaks out over it, and
her cheek-bones flush
February 19, ht
What a sad day we have had to-day, poor M Ar; the doctor bled her, and her voice has returned
to her a while The doctor begged her to see a priest She said "Yes,"
and he went himself to fetch an abbe' from Saint Roch