Her cheeks had but slightly withered, and her deep, symmetrical wrinkles gave her countenance an expression of much nobility, a sovereign air as of a queen-mother, which, tall and slight of stature as she was, and invariably gowned in black woollen stuff, she always retained, no matter how humble her occupation.
"So Guillaume sent you, monsieur," she said; "he is injured, is he not ?" Surprised by this proof of intuition, Pierre repeated his story.

"Yes, his wrist is injured--but oh! it's not a case of immediate gravity." On the part of the three sons, he had divined a sudden quiver, an impulse of their whole beings to rush to the help and defence of their father.
And for their sakes he sought words of comfort: "He is with me at Neuilly.

And with due care it is certain that no serious complications will arise.

He sent me to tell you to be in no wise uneasy about him." Mere-Grand for her part evinced no fears, but preserved great calmness, as if the priest's tidings contained nothing beyond what she had known already.

If anything, she seemed rather relieved, freed from anxiety which she had confided to none.