For seven nights I had not slept, and although as weak as a reed, I had marched by the side of her litter.

Nature could resist no longer.

We reached a village one evening.

She had been in violent convulsions successively; it was all but over.

I laid her down on her litter within a hat, covered her with a Scotch plaid, and fell upon my mat insensible, worn out with sorrow and fatigue.