There had been a heavy snowfall during the night. She was in her bare feet, but she heeded not the cold. She rushed to the cliff, her child in her arms, her hair streaming about her shoulders. The end had at last come; there was nothing further to live for. Fate had conquered. She could but throw herself into the sea, and, with her baby in her arms, confront the good God who had seen fit to pursue her with such suffering. But as she stood upon the cliff, the rolling waves beating against the rocky hollows in the grey dawn seemed to her the hoarse voices of the demons. Once more she heard them calling for her soul, and for the soul of her child. She turned, and retraced her steps to her empty hut.
Laying the baby's body on the bed, she sat down beside it on the floor, her hands clasped about her knees. Silent she sat there, beside the fire she had heaped up to try to revive the child, till night fell, and the stars shone out bright and clear in the frosty sky. Silent she sat till they faded again before the grey light of dawn, and the morning of a new day broke. The wind had risen during the night, and the waves had been bellowing up the beach; but she heard neither wind nor waves. Dry-eyed she sat beside her long-dead fire, and felt not cold nor fear. Her faculties were deadened, her brain numbed, and it was not till her faithful companion, François the bear, tired of waiting to be taken notice of, pressed his nose against her clasped hands, and breathed his warm breath into her face, that she awoke from her trance.
She rose mechanically, turned to her brush heap, selected some dry sticks for her fire, and was about to place them on the embers when she noticed that it had long been dead. Her hands were like ice; she was chilled to the very bone; but the physical pain she now began to feel saved her. It called forth her energies; quickly she went to work to renew the fire, and the exertion drew her out of herself. As the flames blazed up and crackled through the dry branches, the life began to come back to her frozen limbs, and she roused herself to face her situation.
Her baby must be buried, and she must perform the task. She fashioned a rough coffin out of some planks, and tenderly laid the tiny body in it. As she fastened down the lid it seemed to her that every nail went through her own heart, but she did not weep. Her eyes had long since ceased to know the comfort of tears. Wearily she climbed the hillside with her little burden, wondering within herself how much longer it would be before she could lay her worn-out limbs beside those three rude graves, and be done with suffering for ever.