Itwaspastmidnightwhenthepriestwasawakenedfromhissleepbyaknockonthedoor。Hewrappedhisgreatbuffalo-coatabouthim，andansweredthesummons。
WithoutinthedampdarknessstoodPierre。
\"Father，\"hecried，\"Ninonhassentforyou。Sincesheleftyou，shehasbeenveryill。IhavedonewhatIcould；butnowshehardlyspeaks，butImakeoutthatshewantsyou。”Tenminuteslater，theywereinNinon\'scabin。WhenFatherdeSmetlookedatherheknewshewasdying。HehadseentheIndianslikethatmanytimesduringthewinter。Itwastheplague，butdrivenintopreyuponthesystembytheexposure。TheParisienne\'steethwereset，butshemanagedtosmileuponhervisitorashethrewoffhiscoatandbentoverher。
Hepouredsomewhiskeyforher；butshecouldnotgettheliquidoverherthroat。
\"Donot，\"shesaidfiercelybetweenthosesetwhiteteeth，\"donotforgetthelilies。”Shesankbackandfixedherglazingeyesontheantlers，andkeptthemtherewatchingthosedanglingsilkenscarves，whilethepriest，inhaste，spokethewordsforthedepartingsoul。