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Behind the doctor all the others were in a dream. Prayer mastered them
by main force. They did not bow, they were bent. There was something
involuntary in their condition; they wavered as a sail flaps when the
breeze fails. And the haggard group took by degrees, with clasping of
hands and prostration of foreheads, attitudes various, yet of
humiliation. Some strange reflection of the deep seemed to soften their
villainous features.
The doctor returned towards them. Whatever had been his past, the old
man was great in the presence of the catastrophe.
The deep reserve of nature which enveloped him preoccupied without
disconcerting him. He was not one to be taken unawares. Over him was the
calm of a silent horror: on his countenance the majesty of God's will
comprehended.
This old and thoughtful outlaw unconsciously assumed the air of a
pontiff.
He said,--
"Attend to me."
He contemplated for a moment the waste of water, and added,--
"Now we are going to die."
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