Automoderated users, Autopatrolled users, Comment administrators, Confirmed users, Moderators, Rollbackers
29,188
edits
Les Misérables (novel)/Source/Volume 1/Book 7/Chapter 6: Difference between revisions
Les Misérables (novel)/Source/Volume 1/Book 7/Chapter 6 (view source)
Revision as of 21:34, 16 June 2020
, 3 years agono edit summary
No edit summary |
No edit summary |
||
Line 1:
<noinclude>{{work}}</noinclude>==== CHAPTER VI—Sister Simplice put to the Proof ====
But at that moment Fantine was joyous.
Line 37 ⟶ 35:
In the meantime, Fantine was staring at the tester of her bed. She seemed to be endeavoring to recall something. All at once she began to sing in a voice as feeble as a breath. The nun listened. This is what Fantine was singing:—
<poem>“Lovely things we will buy
As we stroll the faubourgs through.
Roses are pink, corn-flowers are blue,
I love my love, corn-flowers are blue.</poem>
“Yestere’en the Virgin Mary came near my stove, in a broidered mantle clad, and said to me, ‘Here, hide ‘neath my veil the child whom you one day begged from me. Haste to the city, buy linen, buy a needle, buy thread.’
<poem>“Lovely things we will buy
As we stroll the faubourgs through.</poem>
“Dear Holy Virgin, beside my stove I have set a cradle with ribbons decked. God may give me his loveliest star; I prefer the child thou hast granted me. ‘Madame, what shall I do with this linen fine?’—‘Make of it clothes for thy new-born babe.’
<poem>“Roses are pink and corn-flowers are blue,
I love my love, and corn-flowers are blue.</poem>
“‘Wash this linen.’—‘Where?’—‘In the stream. Make of it, soiling not, spoiling not, a petticoat fair with its bodice fine, which I will embroider and fill with flowers.’—‘Madame, the child is no longer here; what is to be done?’—‘Then make of it a winding-sheet in which to bury me.’
<poem>“Lovely things we will buy
As we stroll the faubourgs through,
Roses are pink, corn-flowers are blue,
I love my love, corn-flowers are blue.”</poem>
This song was an old cradle romance with which she had, in former days, lulled her little Cosette to sleep, and which had never recurred to her mind in all the five years during which she had been parted from her child. She sang it in so sad a voice, and to so sweet an air, that it was enough to make any one, even a nun, weep. The sister, accustomed as she was to austerities, felt a tear spring to her eyes.
Line 145 ⟶ 146:
“She is doing better; if good luck willed that the mayor should actually arrive to-morrow with the child, who knows? there are crises so astounding; great joy has been known to arrest maladies; I know well that this is an organic disease, and in an advanced state, but all those things are such mysteries: we may be able to save her.”
<noinclude>----
:<small>Back to ''[[{{ROOTPAGENAME}}]]''</small></noinclude>
| |||