Then he was seized with terror, and with haggard face and listless hanging arms he remained crouching in a state of stupor, and repeating: "She is dead, yet she is looking at me; she does not close her eyes, she sees me still." This fancy was very sweet to him.

He remained there perfectly still, exchanging a long look with Miette, in whose glance, deepened by death, he still seemed to read the girl's lament for her sad fate.
In the meantime, the cavalry were still sabring the fugitives over the Nores plain; the cries of the wounded and the galloping of the horses became more distant, softening like music wafted from afar through the clear air.

Silvere was no longer conscious of the fighting.

He did not even see his cousin, who mounted the slope again and crossed the promenade.

Pascal, as he passed along, picked up Macquart's carbine which Silvere had thrown down; he knew it, as he had seen it hanging over aunt Dide's chimney-piece, and he thought he might as well save it from the hands of the victors.