And Guillaume, who, to calm his little brother, had set his hand upon his head, in the same way as he had often caressingly stroked his hair in childhood's days, likewise felt upset and remained silent, unable to find a word of consolation, resigned, as he was, to the eruption which in life is always possible, the cataclysm by which the slow evolution of nature is always liable to be precipitated.

But how hard a fate for the wretched ones whom the lava sweeps away in millions! And then his tears also began to flow amidst the profound silence.
"Pierre," he gently exclaimed at last, "you must have some dinner.

Go, go and have some.

And screen the lamp; leave me by myself, and let me close my eyes.

It will do me good." Pierre had to content him.