The burning churches, the hunted Catholics, the raging of the streets on which she had looked that day, the bodies of the child and the priest carried on poles, the burning churches and convents.

...

All streamed out, incoherent, broken by sobs, details of horror, lamentations, reproaches, interpreted by the writhing of her head and hands upon his knees.

The collapse was complete.
He put his hands again beneath her arms and raised her.

He was worn out by his work, yet he knew he must quiet her.