His eyes alone were still alive, eyes full of unextinguishable love, whose flame lighted up his expiring face, a peasant face such as painters have given to the crucified Christ, common, but rendered sublime at moments by its expression of faith and passion.
He was a Breton, the last puny child of an over-numerous family, and had left his little share of land to his elder brothers.

One of his sisters, Marthe, older than himself by a couple of years, accompanied him.

She had been in service in Paris, an insignificant maid-of-all-work, but withal so devoted to her brother that she had left her situation to follow him, subsisting scantily on her petty savings.
"I was lying on the platform," resumed La Grivotte, "when he was put in the carriage.

There were four men carrying him--" But she was unable to speak any further, for just then an attack of coughing shook her and threw her back upon the seat.

She was suffocating, and the red flush on her cheek-bones turned blue.