Whentheyreachedthebridge，theyturnedtotheright，andgotthefreshbreezefromtheriver，whichrolledalong，calmandmelancholy，borderedbytallpoplartrees，whilethestarslookedasiftheywerefloatingonthewaterandwere—movingwiththecurrent.Aslightwhitemistthatfloatedovertheoppositebanks，filledtheirlungswithasensationofcold，andCaravanstoppedsuddenly，forhewasstruckbythatsmellfromthewaterwhichbroughtbackoldmemoriestohismind.For，inhismind，hesuddenlysawhismotheragain，inPicardy，ashehadseenheryearsbefore，kneelinginfrontoftheirdoor，andwashingtheheapsoflinenathersideinthestreamthatranthroughtheirgarden.Healmostfanciedthathecouldhearthesoundofthewoodenpaddlewithwhichshebeatthelineninthecalmsilenceofthecountry，andhervoice，asshecalledouttohim："Alfred，bringmesomesoap."Andhesmelledthatodorofrunningwater，ofthemistrisingfromthewetground，thatmarshysmell，whichheshouldneverforget，andwhichcamebacktohimonthisveryeveningonwhichhismotherhaddied.
　　Hestopped，seizedwithafeelingofdespair.Asuddenflashseemedtorevealtohimtheextentofhiscalamity，andthatbreathfromtheriverplungedhimintoanabyssofhopelessgrief.Hislifeseemedcutinhalf，hisyouthdisappeared，swallowedupbythatdeath.Alltheformerdayswereoveranddonewith，alltherecollectionsofhisyouthhadbeensweptaway;forthefuture，therewouldbenobodytotalktohimofwhathadhappenedindaysgoneby，ofthepeoplehehadknownofold，ofhisownpartofthecountry，andofhispastlife;thatwasapartofhisexistencewhichexistednolonger，andtherestmightaswellendnow.
　　Andthenhesaw"themother"asshewaswhenyoung，wearingwell—worndresses，whichherememberedforsuchalongtimethattheyseemedinseparablefromher;herecollectedhermovements，thedifferenttonesofhervoice，herhabits，herpredilections，herfitsofanger，thewrinklesonherface，themovementsofherthinfingers，andallherwell—knownattitudes，whichshewouldneverhaveagain，andclutchingholdofthedoctor，hebegantomoanandweep.Histhinlegsbegantotremble，hiswholestoutbodywasshakenbyhissobs，allhecouldsaywas：
　　"Mymother，mypoormother，mypoormother！"
　　Buthiscompanion，whowasstilldrunk，andwhointendedtofinishtheeveningincertainplacesofbadreputethathefrequentedsecretly，madehimsitdownonthegrassbytheriverside，andlefthimalmostimmediately，underthepretextthathehadtoseeapatient.
　　Caravanwentoncryingforsometime，andwhenhehadgottotheendofhistears，whenhisgriefhad，sotosay，runout，heagainfeltrelief，reposeandsuddentranquillity.
　　Themoonhadrisen，andbathedthehorizoninitssoftlight.
　　Thetallpoplartreeshadasilverysheenonthem，andthemistontheplainlookedlikedriftingsnow;theriver，inwhichthestarswerereflected，andwhichhadasheenasofmother—of—pearl，wasgentlyrippledbythewind.Theairwassoftandsweet，andCaravaninhaleditalmostgreedily，andthoughtthathecouldperceiveafeelingoffreshness，ofcalmandofsuperhumanconsolationpervadinghim.
　　Heactuallyresistedthatfeelingofcomfortandrelief，andkeptonsayingtohimself："Mypoormother，mypoormother！"andtriedtomakehimselfcry，fromakindofconscientiousfeeling;buthecouldnotsucceedindoingsoanylonger，andthosesadthoughts，whichhadmadehimsobsobitterlyashoretimebefore，hadalmostpassedaway.Inafewmoments，herosetogohome，andreturnedslowly，undertheinfluenceofthatserenenight，andwithaheartsoothedinspiteofhimself.
　　Whenhereachedthebridge，hesawthatthelasttramcarwasreadytostart，andbehinditwerethebrightlylightedwindowsoftheCafeduGlobe.Hefeltalongingtotellsomebodyofhisloss，toexcitepity，tomakehimselfinteresting.Heputonawoefulface，pushedopenthedoor，andwentuptothecounter，wherethelandlordstillwas.Hehadcountedoncreatingasensation，andhadhopedthateverybodywouldgetupandcometohim.withoutstretchedhands，andsay："Why，whatisthematterwithyou？"Butnobodynoticedhisdisconsolateface，soherestedhistwoelbowsonthecounter，and，buryinghisfaceinhishands，hemurmured："MonDieu！MonDieu！"
　　Thelandlordlookedathimandsaid："Areyouill，MonsieurCaravan？"
　　"No，myfriend，"hereplied，"butmymotherhasjustdied."
　　"Ah！"theotherexclaimed，andasacustomerattheotherendoftheestablishmentaskedforaglassofBavarianbeer，hewenttoattendtohim，leavingCaravandumfoundedathiswantofsympathy.
　　Thethreedominoplayersweresittingatthesametablewhichtheyhadoccupiedbeforedinner，totallyabsorbedintheirgame，andCaravanwentuptothem，insearchofpity，butasnoneofthemappearedtonoticehimhemadeuphismindtospeak.
　　"AgreatmisfortunehashappenedtomesinceIwashere，"hesaid.
　　Allthreeslightlyraisedtheirheadsatthesameinstant，butkeepingtheireyesfixedonthepieceswhichtheyheldintheirhands.
　　"Whatdoyousay？"
　　"Mymotherhasjustdied";whereupononeofthemsaid：
　　"Oh！thedevil，"withthatfalseairofsorrowwhichindifferentpeopleassume.Another，whocouldnotfindanythingtosay，emittedasortofsympatheticwhistle，shakinghisheadatthesametime，andthethirdturnedtothegameagain，asifheweresayingtohimself："Isthatall！"
　　Caravanhadexpectedsomeoftheseexpressionsthataresaidto"comefromtheheart，"andwhenhesawhowhisnewswasreceived，heleftthetable，indignantattheircalmnessattheirfriend’ssorrow，althoughthissorrowhadstupefiedhimsothathescarcelyfeltitanylonger.
　　Whenhegothomehiswifewaswaitingforhiminhernightgown，andsittinginalowchairbytheopenwindow，stillthinkingoftheinheritance.
　　"Undressyourself，"shesaid;"wecangoontalking."
　　Heraisedhishead，andlookingattheceiling，said：
　　"But——thereisnobodyupstairs."
　　"Ibegyourpardon，Rosalieiswithher，andyoucangoandtakeherplaceatthreeo’clockinthemorning，whenyouhavehadsomesleep."
　　Heonlypartiallyundressed，however，soastobereadyforanythingthatmighthappen，andaftertyingasilkhandkerchiefroundhishead，helaydowntorest，andforsometimeneitherofthemspoke.MadameCaravanwasthinking.
　　Hernightcapwasadornedwitharedbow，andwaspushedrathertooneside，aswasthewaywithallthecapsshewore，andpresentlysheturnedtowardshimandsaid：
　　"Doyouknowwhetheryourmothermadeawill？"
　　Hehesitatedforamoment，andthenreplied：
　　"I——Idonotthinkso.No，Iamsurethatshedidnot."
　　Hiswifelookedathim，andshesaid，inalaw，angrytone：
　　"Icallthatinfamous;herewehavebeenwearingourselvesoutfortenyearsinlookingafterher，andhaveboardedandlodgedher！Yoursisterwouldnothavedonesomuchforher，norIeither，ifIhadknownhowI
　　wastoberewarded！Yes，itisadisgracetohermemory！Idaresaythatyouwilltellmethatshepaidus，butonecannotpayone’schildreninreadymoneyforwhattheydo;thatobligationisrecognizedafterdeath;atanyrate，thatishowhonorablepeopleact.SoIhavehadallmyworryandtroublefornothing！Oh，thatisnice！thatisverynice！"
　　PoorCaravan，whowasalmostdistracted，keptonrepeating：
　　"Mydear，mydear，please，pleasebequiet."
　　Shegrewcalmerbydegrees，and，resumingherusualvoiceandmanner，shecontinued：
　　"Wemustletyoursisterknowto—morrow."
　　Hestarted，andsaid：
　　"Ofcoursewemust;Ihadforgottenallaboutit;Iwillsendheratelegramthefirstthinginthemorning."
　　"No，"shereplied，likeawomanwhohadforeseeneverything;"no，donotsenditbeforetenoreleveno’clock，sothatwemayhavetimetoturnroundbeforeshecomes.ItdoesnottakemorethantwohourstogetherefromCharenton，andwecansaythatyoulostyourheadfromgrief.Ifweletherknowinthecourseoftheday，thatwillbesoonenough，andwillgiveustimetolookround."
　　Caravanputhishandtohisforehead，and，inthecametimidvoiceinwhichhealwaysspokeofhischief，theverythoughtofwhommadehimtremble，hesaid：
　　"Imustletthemknowattheoffice."
　　"Why？"shereplied."Onoccasionslikethis，itisalwaysexcusabletoforget.Takemyadvice，anddon’tlethimknow;yourchiefwillnotbeabletosayanythingtoyou，andyouwillputhiminanicefix.
　　"Oh！yes，thatIshall，andhewillbeinaterriblerage，too，whenhenoticesmyabsence.Yes，youareright;itisacapitalidea，andwhenI
　　tellhimthatmymotherisdead，hewillbeobligedtoholdhistongue."
　　Andherubbedhishandsindelightatthejoke，whenhethoughtofhischief’sface;whileupstairslaythebodyofthedeadoldwoman，withtheservantasleepbesideit.
　　ButMadameCaravangrewthoughtful，asifshewerepreoccupiedbysomethingwhichshedidnotcaretomention，andatlastshesaid：
　　"Yourmotherhadgivenyouherclock，hadshenot——thegirlplayingatcupandball？"
　　Hethoughtforamoment，andthenreplied：
　　"Yes，yes;shesaidtome（butitwasalongtimeago，whenshefirstcamehere）：’Ishallleavetheclocktoyou，ifyoulookaftermewell.’"
　　MadameCaravanwasreassured，andregainedherserenity，andsaid：
　　"Well，then，youmustgoandfetchitoutofherroom，forifwegetyoursisterhere，shewillpreventusfromtakingit."
　　Hehesitated.
　　"Doyouthinkso？"
　　Thatmadeherangry.
　　"Icertainlythinkso;onceitisinourpossession，shewillknownothingatallaboutwhereitcamefrom;itbelongstous.Itisjustthesamewiththechestofdrawerswiththemarbletop，thatisinherroom;shegaveitmeonedaywhenshewasinagoodtemper.Wewillbringitdownatthesametime."
　　Caravan，however，seemedincredulous，andsaid：
　　"But，mydear，itisagreatresponsibility！"
　　Sheturnedonhimfuriously.
　　"Oh！Indeed！Willyouneverchange？Youwouldletyourchildrendieofhunger，ratherthanmakeamove.Doesnotthatchestofdrawersbelongtous，asshegaveittome？Andifyoursisterisnotsatisfied，lethertellmeso，me！Idon’tcareastrawforyoursister.Come，getup，andwewillbringdownwhatyourmothergaveus，immediately."
　　Tremblingandvanquished，hegotoutofbedandbegantoputonhistrousers，butshestoppedhim：
　　"Itisnotworthwhiletodressyourself;yourunderwearisquiteenough.
　　ImeantogoasIam."
　　Theybothlefttheroomintheirnightclothes，wentupstairsquitenoiselessly，openedthedoorandwentintotheroom，wherethefourlightedtapersandtheplatewiththesprigofboxaloneseemedtobewatchingtheoldwomaninherrigidrepose，forRosalie，whowaslyingbackintheeasychairwithherlegsstretchedout，herhandsfoldedinherlap，andherheadononeside，wasalsoquitemotionless，andwassnoringwithhermouthwideopen.
　　Caravantooktheclock，whichwasoneofthosegrotesqueobjectsthatwereproducedsoplentifullyundertheEmpire.Agirlingiltbronzewasholdingacupandball，andtheballformedthependulum.
　　"Givethattome，"hiswifesaid，"andtakethemarbleslaboffthechestofdrawers."
　　Heputthemarbleslabonhisshoulderwithconsiderableeffort，andtheylefttheroom.Caravanhadtostoopinthedoorway，andtrembledashewentdownstairs，whilehiswifewalkedbackwards，soastolighthim，andheldthecandlestickinonehand，carryingtheclockundertheotherarm.
　　Whentheywereintheirownroom，sheheavedasigh.
　　"Wehavegotovertheworstpartofthejob，"shesaid;"sonowletusgoandfetchtheotherthings."
　　Butthebureaudrawerswerefulloftheoldwoman’swearingapparel，whichtheymustmanagetohidesomewhere，andMadameCaravansoonthoughtofaplan.
　　"Goandgetthatwoodenpackingcaseinthevestibule;itishardlyworthanything，andwemayjustaswellputithere."
　　Andwhenhehadbroughtitupstairstheybegantofillit.Onebyonetheytookoutallthecollars，cuffs，chemises，caps，allthewell—wornthingsthathadbelongedtothepoorwomanlyingtherebehindthem，andarrangedthemmethodicallyinthewoodenboxinsuchamannerastodeceiveMadameBraux，thedeceasedwoman’sotherchild，whowouldbecomingthenextday.
　　Whentheyhadfinished，theyfirstofallcarriedthebureaudrawersdownstairs，andtheremainingportionafterwards，eachofthemholdinganend，anditwassometimebeforetheycouldmakeuptheirmindswhereitwouldstandbest;butatlasttheydecidedupontheirownroom，oppositethebed，betweenthetwowindows，andassoonasitwasinitsplaceMadameCaravanfilleditwithherownthings.Theclockwasplacedonthechimney—pieceinthedining—room，andtheylookedtoseewhattheeffectwas，andwerebothdelightedwithitandagreedthatnothingcouldbebetter.Thentheyretired，sheblewoutthecandle，andsooneverybodyinthehousewasasleep.
　　Itwasbroaddaylightwhen.Caravanopenedhiseyesagain.Hismindwasratherconfusedwhenhewokeup，andhedidnotclearlyrememberwhathadhappenedforafewminutes;whenhedid，hefeltaweightathisheart，andjumpedoutofbed，almostreadytocryagain.
　　Hehastenedtotheroomoverhead，whereRosaliewasstillsleepinginthesamepositionasthenightbefore，nothavingawakenedonce.Hesenthertodoherwork，putfreshtapersintheplaceofthosethathadburntout，andthenhelookedathismother，revolvinginhisbrainthoseapparentlyprofoundthoughts，thosereligiousandphilosophicalcommonplaceswhichtroublepeopleofmediocreintelligenceinthepresenceofdeath.
　　But，ashiswifewascallinghim，hewentdownstairs.Shehadwrittenoutalistofwhathadtobedoneduringthemorning，andhewashorrifiedwhenbesawthememorandum：
　　1.Reportthedeathatthemayor’soffice.
　　2.Seethedoctorwhohadattendedher.
　　3.Orderthecoffin.
　　4.Givenoticeatthechurch.
　　5.Gototheundertaker.
　　6.Orderthenoticesofherdeathattheprinter’s.
　　7.Gotothelawyer.
　　8.Telegraphthenewstoallthefamily.
　　Besidesallthis，therewereanumberofsmallcommissions;sohetookhishatandwentout.Asthenewshadspreadabroad，MadameCaravan’sfemalefriendsandneighborssoonbegantocomeinandbeggedtobeallowedtoseethebody.Therehadbeenascenebetweenhusbandandwifeatthehairdresser’sonthegroundflooraboutthematter，whileacustomerwasbeingshaved.Thewife，whowasknittingsteadily，said：
　　"Well，thereisoneless，andasgreatamiserasoneevermeetswith.
　　Icertainlydidnotcareforher;but，nevertheless，Imustgoandhavealookather."
　　Thehusband，whilelatheringhispatient’schin，said："Thatisanotherqueerfancy！Nobodybutawomanwouldthinkofsuchathing.Itisnotenoughforthemtoworryyouduringlife，buttheycannotevenleaveyouatpeacewhenyouaredead："Buthiswife，withoutbeingintheleastdisconcerted，replied："ThefeelingisstrongerthanIam，andImustgo.
　　Ithasbeenonmesincethemorning.IfIwerenottoseeher，Ishouldthinkaboutitallmylife;butwhenIhavehadagoodlookather，I
　　shallbesatisfied."
　　Theknightoftherazorshruggedhisshouldersandremarkedinalowvoicetothegentlemanwhosecheekhewasscraping："Ijustaskyou，whatsortofideasdoyouthinktheseconfoundedfemaleshave？Ishouldnotamusemyselfbygoingtoseeacorpse！"Buthiswifehadheardhimandrepliedveryquietly："Butitisso，itisso."Andthen，puttingherknittingonthecounter，shewentupstairstothefirstfloor，whereshemettwootherneighbors，whohadjustcome，andwhowerediscussingtheeventwithMadameCaravan，whowasgivingthemthedetails，andtheyallwenttogethertothedeathchamber.Thefourwomenwentinsoftly，and，oneaftertheother，sprinkledthebedclotheswiththesaltwater，kneltdown，madethesignofthecrosswhiletheymumbledaprayer.Thentheyrosefromtheirkneesandlookedforsometimeatthecorpsewithround，wide—openeyesandmouthspartlyopen，whilethedaughter—in—lawofthedeadwoman，withherhandkerchieftoherface，pretendedtobesobbingpiteously.
　　WhensheturnedabouttowalkawaywhomshouldsheperceivestandingclosetothedoorbutMarie—LouiseandPhilippe—Auguste，whowerecuriouslytakingstockofallthatwasgoingon.Then，forgettingherpretendedgrief，shethrewherselfuponthemwithupliftedhands，cryingoutinafuriousvoice，"Willyougetoutofthis，youhorridbrats！"
　　Tenminuteslater，goingupstairsagainwithanothercontingentofneighbors，sheprayed，weptprofusely，performedallherduties，andfoundoncemorehertwochildren，whohadfollowedherupstairs.Sheagainboxedtheirearssoundly，butthenexttimeshepaidnoheedtothem，andateachfresharrivalofvisitorsthetwourchinsalwaysfollowedinthewake，kneelingdowninacornerandimitatingslavishlyeverythingtheysawtheirmotherdo.
　　Whentheafternooncamethecrowdsofinquisitivepeoplebegantodiminish，andsoontherewerenomorevisitors.MadameCaravan，returningtoherownapartments，begantomakethenecessarypreparationsforthefuneralceremony，andthedeceasedwasleftalone.
　　Thewindowoftheroomwasopen.Atorridheatentered，alongwithcloudsofdust;theflamesofthefourcandleswereflickeringbesidetheimmobilecorpse，andupontheclothwhichcoveredtheface，theclosedeyes，thetwostretched—outhands，smallfliesalighted，came，wentandcareeredupanddownincessantly，beingtheonlycompanionsoftheoldwomanforthetimebeing.
　　Marie—LouiseandPhilippe—Auguste，however，hadnowleftthehouseandwererunningupanddownthestreet.Theyweresoonsurroundedbytheirplaymates，bylittlegirlsespecially，whowereolderandwhoweremuchmoreinterestedinallthemysteriesoflife，askingquestionsasiftheyweregrownpeople.
　　"Thenyourgrandmotherisdead？""Yes，shediedyesterdayevening."
　　"Whatdoesadeadpersonlooklike？"
　　ThenMariebegantoexplain，tellingallaboutthecandles，thesprigofboxandthefaceofthecorpse.Itwasnotlongbeforegreatcuriositywasarousedinthemindsofallthechildren，andtheyaskedtobeallowedtogoupstairstolookatthedeparted.
　　Marie—Louiseatonceorganizedafirstexpedition，consistingoffivegirlsandtwoboys——thebiggestandthemostcourageous.Shemadethemtakeofftheirshoessothattheymightnotbediscovered.Thetroupefiledintothehouseandmountedthestairsasstealthilyasanarmyofmice.
　　Onceinthechamber，thelittlegirl，imitatinghermother，regulatedtheceremony.Shesolemnlywalkedinadvanceofhercomrades，wentdownonherknees，madethesignofthecross，movedherlipsasinprayer，rose，sprinkledthebed，andwhilethechildren，allcrowdedtogether，wereapproaching——frightenedandcuriousandeagertolookatthefaceandhandsofthedeceased——shebegansuddenlytosimulatesobbingandtoburyhereyesinherlittlehandkerchief.Then，becominginstantlyconsoled，onthinkingoftheotherchildrenwhoweredownstairswaitingatthedoor，sherandownstairsfollowedbytherest，returninginaminutewithanothergroup，thenathird;forallthelittleragamuffinsofthecountryside，eventothelittlebeggarsinrags，hadcongregatedinordertoparticipateinthisnewpleasure;andeachtimesherepeatedhermother’sgrimaceswithabsoluteperfection.
　　Atlength，however，shebecametired.Somegameorotherdrewthechildrenawayfromthehouse，andtheoldgrandmotherwasleftalone，forgottensuddenlybyeverybody.
　　Theroomwasgrowingdark，anduponthedryandrigidfeaturesofthecorpsethefitfulflamesofthecandlescastpatchesoflight.
　　Towards8o’clockCaravanascendedtothechamberofdeath，closedthewindowsandrenewedthecandles.Hewasnowquitecomposedonenteringtheroom，accustomedalreadytoregardthecorpseasthoughithadbeenthereformonths.Heevenwentthelengthofdeclaringthat，asyet，therewerenosignsofdecomposition，makingthisremarkjustatthemomentwhenheandhiswifewereabouttositdownattable."Pshaw！"
　　sheresponded，"sheisnowstarkandstiff;shewillkeepforayear."
　　Thesoupwaseateninsilence.Thechildren，whohadbeenlefttothemselvesallday，nowwornoutbyfatigue，weresleepingsoundlyontheirchairs，andnobodyventuredtobreakthesilence.
　　Suddenlytheflameofthelampwentdown.MadameCaravanimmediatelyturnedupthewick，ahollowsoundensued，andthelightwentout.Theyhadforgottentobuyoil.Tosendforitnowtothegrocer’swouldkeepbackthedinner，andtheybegantolookforcandles，butnoneweretobefoundexceptthetaperswhichhadbeenplaceduponthetableupstairsinthedeathchamber.
　　MadameCaravan，alwayspromptinherdecisions，quicklydespatchedMarie—
　　Louisetofetchtwo，andherreturnwasawaitedintotaldarkness.
　　Thefootstepsofthegirlwhohadascendedthestairsweredistinctlyheard.Therewassilenceforafewsecondsandthenthechilddescendedprecipitately.Shethrewopenthedoorandinachokingvoicemurmured：
　　"Oh！papa，grandmammaisdressingherself！"
　　Caravanboundedtohisfeetwithsuchprecipitancethathischairfelloveragainstthewall.Hestammeredout："Yousay？Whatareyousaying？"
　　ButMarie—Louise，gaspingwithemotion，repeated："Grand——grand——
　　grandmammaisputtingonherclothes，sheiscomingdownstairs."
　　Caravanrushedboldlyupthestaircase，followedbyhiswife，dumfounded;
　　buthecametoastandstillbeforethedoorofthesecondfloor，overcomewithterror，notdaringtoenter.Whatwashegoingtosee？MadameCaravan，morecourageous，turnedthehandleofthedoorandsteppedforwardintotheroom.
　　Theoldwomanwasstandingup.Inawakeningfromherlethargicsleep，beforeevenregainingfullconsciousness，inturninguponhersideandraisingherselfonherelbow，shehadextinguishedthreeofthecandleswhichburnednearthebed.Then，gainingstrength，shegotoffthebedandbegantolookforherclothes.Theabsenceofherchestofdrawershadatfirstworriedher，but，afteralittle，shehadsucceededinfindingherthingsatthebottomofthewoodenbox，andwasnowquietlydressing.Sheemptiedtheplatefulofwater，replacedthesprigofboxbehindthelooking—glass，andarrangedthechairsintheirplaces，andwasreadytogodownstairswhenthereappearedbeforeherhersonanddaughter—in—law.
　　Caravanrushedforward，seizedherbythehands，embracedherwithtearsinhiseyes，whilehiswife，whowasbehindhim，repeatedinahypocriticaltoneofvoice："Oh，whatablessing！oh，whatablessing！"
　　Buttheoldwoman，withoutbeingatallmoved，withoutevenappearingtounderstand，rigidasastatue，andwithglazedeyes，simplyasked："Willdinnersoonbeready？"
　　Hestammeredout，notknowingwhathesaid：
　　"Oh，yes，mother，wehavebeenwaitingforyou."
　　Andwithanalacrityunusualinhim，hetookherarm，whileMadameCaravan，theyounger，seizedthecandleandlightedthemdownstairs，walkingbackwardsinfrontofthem，stepbystep，justasshehaddonethepreviousnightforherhusband，whowascarryingthemarble.
　　Onreachingthefirstfloor，shealmostranagainstpeoplewhowereascendingthestairs.ItwastheCharentonfamily，MadameBraux，followedbyherhusband.
　　Thewife，tallandstout，withaprominentstomach，openedwideherterrifiedeyesandwasreadytomakeherescape.Thehusband，asocialistshoemaker，alittlehairyman，theperfectimageofamonkey，murmuredquiteunconcerned："Well，whatnext？Issheresurrected？"
　　AssoonasMadameCaravanrecognizedthem，shemadefranticgesturestothem;then，speakingaloud，shesaid："Why，hereyouare！Whatapleasantsurprise！"
　　ButMadameBraux，dumfounded，understoodnothing.Sherespondedinalowvoice："Itwasyourtelegramthatbroughtus;wethoughtthatallwasover."
　　Herhusband，whowasbehindher，pinchedhertomakeherkeepsilent.
　　Headdedwithaslylaugh，whichhisthickbeardconcealed："Itwasverykindofyoutoinviteushere.Wesetoutposthaste，"whichremarkshowedthehostilitywhichhadforalongtimereignedbetweenthehouseholds.Then，justastheoldwomanreachedthelaststeps，hepushedforwardquicklyandrubbedhishairyfaceagainsthercheeks，shoutinginherear，onaccountofherdeafness："Howwellyoulook，mother;sturdyasusual，hey！"
　　MadameBraux，inherstupefactionatseeingtheoldwomanalive，whomtheyallbelievedtobedead，darednotevenembraceher;andherenormousbulkblockedupthepassagewayandhinderedtheothersfromadvancing.Theoldwoman，uneasyandsuspicious，butwithoutspeaking，lookedateveryonearoundher;andherlittlegrayeyes，piercingandhard，fixedthemselvesnowononeandnowontheother，andtheyweresofullofmeaningthatthechildrenbecamefrightened.
　　Caravan，toexplainmatters，said："Shehasbeensomewhatill，butsheisbetternow;quitewell，indeed，areyounot，mother？"
　　Thenthegoodwoman，continuingtowalk，repliedinahuskyvoice，asthoughitcamefromadistance："Itwassyncope.Iheardyouallthewhile."
　　Anembarrassingsilencefollowed.Theyenteredthedining—room，andinafewminutesallsatdowntoanimproviseddinner.
　　OnlyM.Brauxhadretainedhisself—possession.Hisgorillafeaturesgrinnedwickedly，whileheletfallsomewordsofdoublemeaningwhichpainfullydisconcertedeveryone.
　　Butthedoorbellkeptringingeverysecond，andRosalie，distracted，cametocallCaravan，whorushedout，throwingdownhisnapkin.Hisbrother—in—lawevenaskedhimwhetheritwasnotoneofhisreceptiondays，towhichhestammeredoutinanswer："No，onlyafewpackages;
　　nothingmore."
　　Aparcelwasbroughtin，whichhebegantoopencarelessly，andthemourningannouncementswithblackbordersappearedunexpectedly.
　　Reddeninguptotheveryeyes，heclosedthepackagehurriedlyandpusheditunderhiswaistcoat.
　　Hismotherhadnotseenit！Shewaslookingintentlyatherclockwhichstoodonthemantelpiece，andtheembarrassmentincreasedinmidstofadeadsilence.Turningherwrinkledfacetowardsherdaughter，theoldwoman，inwhoseeyesgleamedmalice，said："OnMondayyoumusttakemeawayfromhere，sothatIcanseeyourlittlegirl.Iwantsomuchtoseeher."MadameBraux，herfeaturesallbeaming，exclaimed："Yes，mother，thatIwill，"whileMadameCaravan，theyounger，whohadturnedpale，wasreadytofaintwithannoyance.Thetwomen，however，graduallydriftedintoconversationandsoonbecameembroiledinapoliticaldiscussion.Brauxmaintainedthemostrevolutionaryandcommunisticdoctrines，hiseyesglowing，andgesticulatingandthrowingabouthisarms."Property，sir，"hesaid，"isarobberyperpetratedontheworkingclasses;thelandisthecommonpropertyofeveryman;hereditaryrightsareaninfamyandadisgrace."Butherehesuddenlystopped，lookingasifhehadjustsaidsomethingfoolish，thenaddedinsoftertones："Butthisisnotthepropermomenttodiscusssuchthings."
　　ThedoorwasopenedandDr.Chenetappeared.Foramomentheseemedbewildered，butregaininghisusualsmirkingexpressionofcountenance，hejauntilyapproachedtheoldwomanandsaid："Aha！mamma;youarebetterto—day.Oh！Ineverhadanydoubtbutyouwouldcomeroundagain;
　　infact，IsaidtomyselfasIwasmountingthestaircase，’IhaveanideathatIshallfindtheoldladyonherfeetoncemore’;"andashepattedhergentlyontheback："Ah！sheisassolidasthePont—Neuf，shewillburyusall;seeifshedoesnot."
　　Hesatdown，acceptedthecoffeethatwasofferedhim，andsoonbegantojoinintheconversationofthetwomen，backingupBraux，forhehimselfhadbeenmixedupintheCommune.
　　Theoldwoman，nowfeelingherselffatigued，wishedtoretire.Caravanrushedforward.Shelookedhimsteadilyintheeyeandsaid："You，youmustcarrymyclockandchestofdrawersupstairsagainwithoutamoment’sdelay.""Yes，mamma，"hereplied，gasping;"yes，Iwilldoso."
　　Theoldwomanthentookthearmofherdaughterandwithdrewfromtheroom.ThetwoCaravansremainedastounded，silent，plungedinthedeepestdespair，whileBrauxrubbedhishandsandsippedhiscoffeegleefully.
　　SuddenlyMadameCaravan，consumedwithrage，rushedathim，exclaiming：
　　"Youareathief，afootpad，acur！Iwouldspitinyourface！I——I——
　　would————"Shecouldfindnothingfurthertosay，suffocatingasshewaswithrage，whilehewentonsippinghiscoffeewithasmile.
　　Hiswifereturningjustthen，MadameCaravanattackedhersister—in—law，andthetwowomen——theonewithherenormousbulk，theotherepilepticandspare，withchangedvoicesandtremblinghandsflewatoneanotherwithwordsofabuse.
　　ChenetandBrauxnowinterposed，andthelatter，takinghisbetterhalfbytheshoulders，pushedheroutofthedoorbeforehim，shouting："Goon，youslut;youtalktoomuch";andthetwowereheardinthestreetquarrellinguntiltheydisappearedfromsight.
　　M.Chenetalsotookhisdeparture，leavingtheCaravansalone，facetoface.Thehusbandfellbackonhischair，andwiththecoldsweatstandingoutinbeadsonhistemples，murmured："WhatshallIsaytomychiefto—morrow？"
　　BESIDESCHOPENHAUER’SCORPSE
　　Hewasslowlydying，asconsumptivesdie.Isawhimeachday，abouttwoo’clock，sittingbeneaththehotelwindowsonabenchinthepromenade，lookingoutonthecalmsea.Heremainedforsometimewithoutmoving，intheheatofthesun，gazingmournfullyattheMediterranean.Everynowandthen，hecastaglanceattheloftymountainswithbecloudedsummitsthatshutinMentone;then，withaveryslowmovement，hewouldcrosshislonglegs，sothinthattheyseemedliketwobones，aroundwhichflutteredtheclothofhistrousers，andhewouldopenabook，alwaysthesamebook.Andthenhedidnotstiranymore，butreadon，readonwithhiseyeandhismind;allhiswastingbodyseemedtoread，allhissoulplunged，lost，disappeared，inthisbook，uptothehourwhenthecoolairmadehimcoughalittle.Then，hegotupandreenteredthehotel.
　　HewasatallGerman，withfairbeard，whobreakfastedanddinedinhisownroom，andspoketonobody.
　　Avague，curiosityattractedmetohim.Oneday，Isatdownbyhisside，havingtakenupabook，too，tokeepupappearances，avolumeofMusset’spoems.
　　AndIbegantolookthrough"Rolla."
　　Suddenly，myneighborsaidtome，ingoodFrench：
　　"DoyouknowGerman，monsieur？"
　　"Notatall，monsieur."
　　"Iamsorryforthat.Sincechancehasthrownussidebyside，Icouldhavelentyou，Icouldhaveshownyou，aninestimablething——thisbookwhichIholdinmyhand."
　　"Whatisit，pray？"
　　"Itisacopyofmymaster，Schopenhauer，annotatedwithhisownhand.
　　Allthemargins，asyoumaysee，arecoveredwithhishandwriting."
　　Itookthebookfromhimreverently，andIgazedattheseformsincomprehensibletome，butwhichrevealedtheimmortalthoughtsofthegreatestshattererofdreamswhohadeverdweltonearth.
　　AndMusset’sversesaroseinmymemory：
　　"Hastthoufoundout，Voltaire，thatitisblisstodie，Anddoesthyhideoussmileoverthybleachedbonesfly？"
　　AndinvoluntarilyIcomparedthechildishsarcasm，thereligioussarcasmofVoltairewiththeirresistibleironyoftheGermanphilosopherwhoseinfluenceishenceforthineffaceable.
　　Letusprotestandletusbeangry，letusbeindignant，orletusbeenthusiastic，Schopenhauerhasmarkedhumanitywiththesealofhisdisdainandofhisdisenchantment.
　　Adisabusedpleasure—seeker，heoverthrewbeliefs，hopes，poeticidealsandchimeras，destroyedtheaspirations，ravagedtheconfidenceofsouls，killedlove，draggeddownthechivalrousworshipofwomen，crushedtheillusionsofhearts，andaccomplishedthemostgigantictaskeverattemptedbyscepticism.Hesparednothingwithhismockingspirit，andexhaustedeverything.Andevento—daythosewhoexecratehimseemtocarryintheirownsoulsparticlesofhisthought.
　　"So，then，youwereintimatelyacquaintedwithSchopenhauer？"IsaidtotheGerman.
　　Hesmiledsadly.
　　"Uptothetimeofhisdeath，monsieur."
　　Andhespoketomeaboutthephilosopherandtoldmeaboutthealmostsupernaturalimpressionwhichthisstrangebeingmadeonallwhocamenearhim.
　　HegavemeanaccountoftheinterviewoftheoldiconoclastwithaFrenchpolitician，adoctrinaireRepublican，whowantedtogetaglimpseofthisman，andfoundhiminanoisytavern，seatedinthemidstofhisdisciples，dry，wrinkled，laughingwithanunforgettablelaugh，attackingandtearingtopiecesideasandbeliefswithasingleword，asadogtearswithonebiteofhisteeththetissueswithwhichheplays.
　　HerepeatedformethecommentofthisFrenchmanashewentaway，astonishedandterrified："IthoughtIhadspentanhourwiththedevil."
　　Thenheadded：
　　"Hehad，indeed，monsieur，afrightfulsmile，whichterrifiedusevenafterhisdeath.Icantellyouananecdoteaboutitthatisnotgenerallyknown，ifitwouldinterestyou."
　　Andhebegan，inalanguidvoice，interruptedbyfrequentfitsofcoughing.
　　"Schopenhauerhadjustdied，anditwasarrangedthatweshouldwatch，inturn，twobytwo，tillmorning.
　　"Hewaslyinginalargeapartment，verysimple，vastandgloomy.Twowaxcandleswereburningonthestandbythebedside.
　　"ItwasmidnightwhenIwentonwatch，togetherwithoneofourcomrades.
　　Thetwofriendswhomwereplacedhadlefttheapartment，andwecameandsatdownatthefootofthebed.
　　"Thefacewasnotchanged.Itwaslaughing.Thatpuckerwhichweknewsowelllingeredstillaroundthecornersofthelips，anditseemedtousthathewasabouttoopenhiseyes，tomoveandtospeak.Histhought，orratherhisthoughts，envelopedus.Wefeltourselvesmorethaneverintheatmosphereofhisgenius，absorbed，possessedbyhim.
　　Hisdominationseemedtobeevenmoresovereignnowthathewasdead.
　　Afeelingofmysterywasblendedwiththepowerofthisincomparablespirit.
　　"Thebodiesofthesemendisappear，buttheythemselvesremain;andinthenightwhichfollowsthecessationoftheirheart’spulsationIassureyou，monsieur，theyareterrifying.
　　"Andinhushedtoneswetalkedabouthim，recallingtomindcertainsayings，certainformulasofhis，thosestartlingmaximswhicharelikejetsofflameflung，inafewwords，intothedarknessoftheUnknownLife.
　　"’Itseemstomethatheisgoingtospeak，’saidmycomrade.Andwestaredwithuneasinessborderingonfearatthemotionlessface，withitseternallaugh.Gradually，webegantofeelillatease，oppressed，onthepointoffainting.Ifaltered：
　　"’Idon’tknowwhatisthematterwithme，but，IassureyouIamnotwell.’
　　"Andatthatmomentwenoticedthattherewasanunpleasantodorfromthecorpse.
　　"Then，mycomradesuggestedthatweshouldgointotheadjoiningroom，andleavethedooropen;andIassentedtohisproposal.
　　"Itookoneofthewaxcandleswhichburnedonthestand，andIleftthesecondbehind.Thenwewentandsatdownattheotherendoftheadjoiningapartment，insuchapositionthatwecouldseethebedandthecorpse，clearlyrevealedbythelight.
　　"Buthestillheldpossessionofus.Onewouldhavesaidthathisimmaterialessence，liberated，free，all—powerfulanddominating，wasflittingaroundus.Andsometimes，too，thedreadfulodorofthedecomposedbodycametowardusandpenetratedus，sickeningandindefinable.
　　"Suddenlyashiverpassedthroughourbones：asound，aslightsound，camefromthedeath—chamber.Immediatelywefixedourglancesonhim，andwesaw，yes，monsieur，wesawdistinctly，bothofus，somethingwhitepassacrossthebed，fallonthecarpet，andvanishunderanarmchair.
　　"Wewereonourfeetbeforewehadtimetothinkofanything，distractedbystupefyingterror，readytorunaway.Thenwestaredateachother.
　　Wewerehorriblypale.Ourheartsthrobbedfiercelyenoughtohaveraisedtheclothingonourchests.Iwasthefirsttospeak：
　　"’Didyousee？’
　　"’Yes，Isaw.’
　　"’Canitbethatheisnotdead？’
　　"’Why，whenthebodyisputrefying？’
　　"’Whatarewetodo？’
　　"Mycompanionsaidinahesitatingtone：
　　"’Wemustgoandlook.’
　　"Itookourwaxcandleandenteredfirst，glancingintoallthedarkcornersinthelargeapartment.Nothingwasmovingnow，andIapproachedthebed.ButIstoodtransfixedwithstuporandfright：
　　Schopenhauerwasnolongerlaughing！Hewasgrinninginahorriblefashion，withhislipspressedtogetheranddeephollowsinhischeeks.
　　Istammeredout：
　　"’Heisnotdead！’
　　"Buttheterribleodorascendedtomynoseandstifledme.AndInolongermoved，butkeptstaringfixedlyathim，terrifiedasifinthepresenceofanapparition.
　　"Thenmycompanion，havingseizedtheotherwaxcandle，bentforward.
　　Next，hetouchedmyarmwithoututteringaword.Ifollowedhisglance，andsawontheground，underthearmchairbythesideofthebed，standingoutwhiteonthedarkcarpet，andopenasiftobite，Schopenhauer’ssetofartificialteeth.
　　"Theworkofdecomposition，looseningthejaws，hadmadeitjumpoutofthemouth.
　　"Iwasreallyfrightenedthatday，monsieur."
　　Andasthesunwassinkingtowardtheglitteringsea，theconsumptiveGermanrosefromhisseat，gavemeapartingbow，andretiredintothehotel.
　　EndOriginalShortStories，Vol.3.
　　ByGuydeMaupassantVOLUMEIII.
　　MISSHARRIET
　　LITTLELOUISEROQUE
　　THEDONKEY
　　MOIRON
　　THEDISPENSEROFHOLYWATER
　　THEPARRICIDE
　　BERTHA
　　THEPATRON
　　THEDOOR
　　ASALE
　　THEIMPOLITESEX
　　AWEDDINGGIFT
　　THERELIC
　　MISSHARRIET
　　Thereweresevenofusonadrag，fourwomenandthreemen;oneofthelattersatontheboxseatbesidethecoachman.Wewereascending，atasnail’space，thewindingroadupthesteepcliffalongthecoast.
　　SettingoutfromEtretatatbreakofdayinordertovisittheruinsofTancarville，wewerestillhalfasleep，benumbedbythefreshairofthemorning.Thewomenespecially，whowerelittleaccustomedtotheseearlyexcursions，halfopenedandclosedtheireyeseverymoment，noddingtheirheadsoryawning，quiteinsensibletothebeautiesofthedawn.
　　Itwasautumn.Onbothsidesoftheroadstretchedthebarefields，yellowedbythestubbleofwheatandoatswhichcoveredthesoillikeabeardthathadbeenbadlyshaved.Themoistearthseemedtosteam.
　　Larksweresinginghighupintheair，whileotherbirdspipedinthebushes.
　　Thesunroseatlengthinfrontofus，brightredontheplaneofthehorizon，andinproportionasitascended，growingclearerfromminutetominute，thecountryseemedtoawake，tosmile，toshakeitselflikeayounggirlleavingherbedinherwhiterobeofvapor.TheComted’Etraille，whowasseatedonthebox，cried：
　　"Look！look！ahare！"andheextendedhisarmtowardtheleft，pointingtoapatchofclover.Theanimalscurriedalong，almosthiddenbytheclover，onlyitslargeearsshowing.Thenitswervedacrossafurrow，stopped，startedoffagainatfullspeed，changeditscourse，stoppedanew，uneasy，spyingouteverydanger，uncertainwhatroutetotake，whensuddenlyitbegantorunwithgreatbounds，disappearingfinallyinalargepatchofbeet—root.Allthemenhadwakeduptowatchthecourseoftheanimal.
　　ReneLamanoirexclaimed：
　　"Wearenotatallgallantthismorning，"and;regardinghisneighbor，thelittleBaronessdeSerennes，whostruggledagainstsleep，hesaidtoherinalowtone："Youarethinkingofyourhusband，baroness.Reassureyourself;hewillnotreturnbeforeSaturday，soyouhavestillfourdays."
　　Sheansweredwithasleepysmile：
　　"Howstupidyouare！"Then，shakingoffhertorpor，sheadded："Now，letsomebodysaysomethingtomakeuslaugh.You，MonsieurChenal，whohavethereputationofhavinghadmoreloveaffairsthantheDuedeRichelieu，tellusalovestoryinwhichyouhaveplayedapart;anythingyoulike."
　　LeonChenal，anoldpainter，whohadoncebeenveryhandsome，verystrong，veryproudofhisphysiqueandverypopularwithwomen，tookhislongwhitebeardinhishandandsmiled.Then，afterafewmoments’
　　reflection，hesuddenlybecameserious.
　　"Ladies，itwillnotbeanamusingtale，forIamgoingtorelatetoyouthesaddestloveaffairofmylife，andIsincerelyhopethatnoneofmyfriendsmayeverpassthroughasimilarexperience.
　　"Iwastwenty—fiveyearsofageandwaspillagingalongthecoastofNormandy.Icall’pillaging’wanderingabout，withaknapsackonone’sback，frominntoinn，underthepretextofmakingstudiesandsketchinglandscapes.Iknewnothingmoreenjoyablethanthathappy—go—luckywanderinglife，inwhichoneisperfectlyfree，withoutshacklesofanykind，withoutcare，withoutpreoccupation，withoutthinkingevenofthemorrow.Onegoesinanydirectiononepleases，withoutanyguidesavehisfancy，withoutanycounsellorsavehiseyes.Onestopsbecausearunningbrookattractsone，becausethesmellofpotatoesfryingticklesone’solfactoriesonpassinganinn.Sometimesitistheperfumeofclematiswhichdecidesoneinhischoiceortheroguishglanceoftheservantataninn.Donotdespisemeformyaffectionfortheserustics.
　　Thesegirlshaveasoulaswellassenses，nottomentionfirmcheeksandfreshlips;whiletheirheartyandwillingkisseshavetheflavorofwildfruit.Loveisalwayslove，comewhenceitmay.Aheartthatbeatsatyourapproach，aneyethatweepswhenyougoawayarethingssorare，sosweet，sopreciousthattheymustneverbedespised.
　　"Ihavehadrendezvousinditchesfullofprimroses，behindthecowstableandinbarnsamongthestraw，stillwarmfromtheheatoftheday.
　　Ihaverecollectionsofcoarsegrayclothcoveringsupplepeasantskinandregretsforsimple，frankkisses，moredelicateintheirunaffectedsinceritythanthesubtlefavorsofcharminganddistinguishedwomen.
　　"Butwhatonelovesmostamidallthesevariedadventuresisthecountry，thewoods，therisingofthesun，thetwilight，themoonlight.Theseare，forthepainter，honeymoontripswithNature.Oneisalonewithherinthatlongandquietassociation.Yougotosleepinthefields，amidmargueritesandpoppies，andwhenyouopenyoureyesinthefullglareofthesunlightyoudescryinthedistancethelittlevillagewithitspointedclocktowerwhichsoundsthehourofnoon.
　　"Yousitdownbythesideofaspringwhichgushesoutatthefootofanoak，amidagrowthoftall，slenderweeds，glisteningwithlife.Yougodownonyourknees，bendforwardanddrinkthatcold，pellucidwaterwhichwetsyourmustacheandnose;youdrinkitwithaphysicalpleasure，asthoughyoukissedthespring，liptolip.Sometimes，whenyoufindadeepholealongthecourseofthesetinybrooks，youplungeinquitenaked，andyoufeelonyourskin，fromheadtofoot，asitwere，anicyanddeliciouscaress，thelightandgentlequiveringofthestream.
　　"Youaregayonthehills，melancholyontheedgeofponds，inspiredwhenthesunissettinginanoceanofblood—redcloudsandcastsredreflectionsortheriver.Andatnight，underthemoon，whichpassesacrossthevaultofheaven，youthinkofathousandstrangethingswhichwouldneverhaveoccurredtoyourmindunderthebrilliantlightofday.
　　"So，inwanderingthroughthesamecountrywherewe，arethisyear，I
　　cametothelittlevillageofBenouville，onthecliffbetweenYportandEtretat.IcamefromFecamp，followingthecoast，ahighcoastasstraightasawall，withitsprojectingchalkcliffsdescendingperpendicularlyintothesea.Ihadwalkedsinceearlymorningontheshortgrass，smoothandyieldingasacarpet，thatgrowsontheedgeofthecliff.And，singinglustily，Iwalkedwithlongstrides，lookingsometimesattheslowcirclingflightofagullwithitswhitecurvedwingsoutlinedonthebluesky，sometimesatthebrownsailsofafishingbarkonthegreensea.Inshort，Ihadpassedahappyday，adayoflibertyandoffreedomfromcare.
　　"Alittlefarmhousewheretravellerswerelodgedwaspointedouttome，akindofinn，keptbyapeasantwoman，whichstoodinthecentreofaNormancourtyardsurroundedbyadoublerowofbeeches.
　　"Leavingthecoast，Ireachedthehamlet，whichwashemmedinbygreattrees，andIpresentedmyselfatthehouseofMotherLecacheur.
　　"Shewasanold，wrinkledandsternpeasantwoman，whoseemedalwaystoreceivecustomersunderprotest，withakindofdefiance.
　　"ItwasthemonthofMay.Thespreadingappletreescoveredthecourtwithashowerofblossomswhichrainedunceasinglybothuponpeopleanduponthegrass.
　　"Isaid：’Well，MadameLecacheur，haveyouaroomforme？’
　　"AstonishedtofindthatIknewhername，sheanswered：
　　"’Thatdepends;everythingislet，butallthesameIcanfindout."
　　"Infiveminuteswehadcometoanagreement，andIdepositedmybagupontheearthenfloorofarusticroom，furnishedwithabed，twochairs，atableandawashbowl.Theroomlookedintothelarge，smokykitchen，wherethelodgerstooktheirmealswiththepeopleofthefarmandthelandlady，whowasawidow.
　　"Iwashedmyhands，afterwhichIwentout.Theoldwomanwasmakingachickenfricasseefordinnerinthelargefireplaceinwhichhungtheironpot，blackwithsmoke.
　　"’Youhavetravellers，then，atthepresenttime？’saidItoher.
　　"Sheansweredinanoffendedtoneofvoice：
　　"’Ihavealady，anEnglishlady，whohasreachedyearsofmaturity.Sheoccupiestheotherroom.’
　　"Iobtained，bymeansofanextrafivesousaday，theprivilegeofdiningaloneoutintheyardwhentheweatherwasfine.
　　"Myplacewassetoutsidethedoor，andIwasbeginningtognawtheleanlimbsoftheNormandychicken，todrinktheclearciderandtomunchthehunkofwhitebread，whichwasfourdaysoldbutexcellent.
　　"Suddenlythewoodengatewhichgaveonthehighwaywasopened，andastrangeladydirectedherstepstowardthehouse.Shewasverythin，verytall，sotightlyenvelopedinaredScotchplaidshawlthatonemighthavesupposedshehadnoarms，ifonehadnotseenalonghandappearjustabovethehips，holdingawhitetouristumbrella.Herfacewaslikethatofamummy，surroundedwithcurlsofgrayhair，whichtossedaboutateverystepshetookandmademethink，Iknownotwhy，ofapickledherringincurlpapers.Loweringhereyes，shepassedquicklyinfrontofmeandenteredthehouse.
　　"Thatsingularapparitioncheeredme.Sheundoubtedlywasmyneighbor，theEnglishladyofmatureageofwhomourhostesshadspoken.
　　"Ididnotseeheragainthatday.Thenextday，whenIhadsettledmyselftocommencepaintingattheendofthatbeautifulvalleywhichyouknowandwhichextendsasfarasEtretat，Iperceived，onliftingmyeyessuddenly，somethingsingularstandingonthecrestofthecliff，onemighthavesaidapoledeckedoutwithflags.Itwasshe.Onseeingme，shesuddenlydisappeared.Ireenteredthehouseatmiddayforlunchandtookmyseatatthegeneraltable，soastomaketheacquaintanceofthisoddcharacter.Butshedidnotrespondtomypoliteadvances，wasinsensibleeventomylittleattentions.Ipouredoutwaterforherpersistently，Ipassedherthedisheswithgreateagerness.Aslight，almostimperceptible，movementoftheheadandanEnglishword，murmuredsolowthatIdidnotunderstandit，wereheronlyacknowledgments.
　　"Iceasedoccupyingmyselfwithher，althoughshehaddisturbedmythoughts.
　　"AttheendofthreedaysIknewasmuchaboutherasdidMadameLecacheurherself.
　　"ShewascalledMissHarriet.Seekingoutasecludedvillageinwhichtopassthesummer，shehadbeenattractedtoBenouvillesomesixmonthsbeforeanddidnotseemdisposedtoleaveit.Sheneverspokeattable，aterapidly，readingallthewhileasmallbookoftheProtestantpropaganda.Shegaveacopyofittoeverybody.Thecurehimselfhadreceivednolessthanfourcopies，conveyedbyanurchintowhomshehadpaidtwosouscommission.Shesaidsometimestoourhostessabruptly，withoutpreparingherintheleastforthedeclaration：
　　"’IlovetheSaviourmorethanall.Iadmirehiminallcreation;
　　Iadorehiminallnature;Icarryhimalwaysinmyheart.’
　　"Andshewouldimmediatelypresenttheoldwomanwithoneofhertractswhichweredestinedtoconverttheuniverse.
　　"In，thevillageshewasnotliked.Infact，theschoolmasterhavingpronouncedheranatheist，akindofstigmaattachedtoher.Thecure，whohadbeenconsultedbyMadameLecacheur，responded：
　　"’Sheisaheretic，butGoddoesnotwishthedeathofthesinner，andI
　　believehertobeapersonofpuremorals.’
　　"Thesewords，’atheist，’’heretic，’wordswhichnoonecanpreciselydefine，threwdoubtsintosomeminds.Itwasasserted，however，thatthisEnglishwomanwasrichandthatshehadpassedherlifeintravellingthrougheverycountryintheworldbecauseherfamilyhadcastheroff.Whyhadherfamilycastheroff？Becauseofherimpiety，ofcourse！
　　"Shewas，infact，oneofthosepeopleofexaltedprinciples;oneofthoseopinionatedpuritans，ofwhichEnglandproducessomany;oneofthosegoodandinsupportableoldmaidswhohauntthetablesd’hoteofeveryhotelinEurope，whospoilItaly，poisonSwitzerland，renderthecharmingcitiesoftheMediterraneanuninhabitable，carryeverywheretheirfantasticmaniastheirmannersofpetrifiedvestals，theirindescribabletoiletsandacertainodorofindia—rubberwhichmakesonebelievethatatnighttheyareslippedintoarubbercasing.
　　"WheneverIcaughtsightofoneoftheseindividualsinahotelIfledlikethebirdswhoseeascarecrowinafield.
　　"Thiswoman，however，appearedsoverysingularthatshedidnotdispleaseme.
　　"MadameLecacheur，hostilebyinstincttoeverythingthatwasnotrustic，feltinhernarrowsoulakindofhatredfortheecstaticdeclarationsoftheoldmaid.Shehadfoundaphrasebywhichtodescribeher，atermofcontemptthatrosetoherlips，calledforthbyIknownotwhatconfusedandmysteriousmentalratiocination.Shesaid：’Thatwomanisademoniac.’Thisepithet，appliedtothataustereandsentimentalcreature，seemedtomeirresistiblydroll.Imyselfnevercalledheranythingnowbut’thedemoniac，’experiencingasingularpleasureinpronouncingaloudthiswordonperceivingher.
　　"OnedayIaskedMotherLecacheur：’Well，whatisourdemoniacaboutto—
　　day？’
　　"Towhichmyrusticfriendrepliedwithashockedair：
　　"’Whatdoyouthink，sir？Shepickedupatoadwhichhadhaditspawcrushedandcarriedittoherroomandhasputitinherwashbasinandbandageditasifitwereaman.IfthatisnotprofanationIshouldliketoknowwhatis！’
　　"Onanotheroccasion，whenwalkingalongtheshoresheboughtalargefishwhichhadjustbeencaught，simplytothrowitbackintotheseaagain.Thesailorfromwhomshehadboughtit，althoughshepaidhimhandsomely，nowbegantoswear，moreexasperated，indeed，thanifshehadputherhandintohispocketandtakenhismoney.Formorethanamonthhecouldnotspeakofthecircumstancewithoutbecomingfuriousanddenouncingitasanoutrage.Oh，yes！Shewasindeedademoniac，thisMissHarriet，andMotherLecacheurmusthavehadaninspirationinthuschristeningher.
　　"Thestableboy，whowascalledSapeur，becausehehadservedinAfricainhisyouth，entertainedotheropinions.Hesaidwitharoguishair：
　　’Sheisanoldhagwhohasseenlife.’
　　"Ifthepoorwomanhadbutknown！
　　"Thelittlekind—heartedCelestedidnotwaituponherwillingly，butI
　　wasneverabletounderstandwhy.Probablyheronlyreasonwasthatshewasastranger，ofanotherrace;ofadifferenttongueandofanotherreligion.Shewas，infact，ademoniac！
　　"Shepassedhertimewanderingaboutthecountry，adoringandseekingGodinnature.Ifoundheroneeveningonherkneesinaclusterofbushes.
　　Havingdiscoveredsomethingredthroughtheleaves，Ibrushedasidethebranches，andMissHarrietatoncerosetoherfeet，confusedathavingbeenfoundthus，fixingonmeterrifiedeyeslikethoseofanowlsurprisedinopenday.
　　"Sometimes，whenIwasworkingamongtherocks，Iwouldsuddenlydescryherontheedgeoftheclifflikealighthousesignal.Shewouldbegazinginraptureatthevastseaglitteringinthesunlightandtheboundlessskywithitsgoldentints.SometimesIwoulddistinguishherattheendofthevalley，walkingquicklywithherelasticEnglishstep，andIwouldgotowardher，attractedbyIknownotwhat，simplytoseeherilluminatedvisage，herdried—up，ineffablefeatures，whichseemedtoglowwithinwardandprofoundhappiness.
　　"Iwouldoftenencounterheralsointhecornerofafield，sittingonthegrassundertheshadowofanappletree，withherlittlereligiousbookletlyingopenonherkneewhileshegazedoutatthedistance.
　　"Icouldnottearmyselfawayfromthatquietcountryneighborhood，towhichIwasattachedbyathousandlinksofloveforitswideandpeacefullandscape.Iwashappyinthissequesteredfarm，farremovedfromeverything，butintouchwiththeearth，thegood，beautiful，greenearth.And——mustIavowit？——therewas，besides，alittlecuriositywhichretainedmeattheresidenceofMotherLecacheur.IwishedtobecomeacquaintedalittlewiththisstrangeMissHarrietandtoknowwhattranspiresinthesolitarysoulsofthosewanderingoldEnglishwomen.
　　"Webecameacquaintedinarathersingularmanner.Ihadjustfinishedastudywhichappearedtometobeworthsomething，andsoitwas，asitsoldfortenthousandfrancsfifteenyearslater.Itwasassimple，however，astwoandtwomakefourandwasnotaccordingtoacademicrules.Thewholerightsideofmycanvasrepresentedarock，anenormousrock，coveredwithsea—wrack，brown，yellowandred，acrosswhichthesunpouredlikeastreamofoil.Thelightfellupontherockasthoughitwereaflamewithoutthesun，whichwasatmyback，beingvisible.Thatwasall.Afirstbewilderingstudyofblazing，gorgeouslight.
　　"Ontheleftwasthesea，notthebluesea，theslate—coloredsea，butaseaofjade，greenish，milkyandsolidbeneaththedeep—coloredsky.
　　"IwassopleasedwithmyworkthatIdancedfromsheerdelightasI
　　carrieditbacktotheinn.Iwouldhavelikedthewholeworldtoseeitatonce.IcanrememberthatIshowedittoacowthatwasbrowsingbythewayside，exclaimingasIdidso：’Lookatthat，myoldbeauty;youwillnotoftenseeitslikeagain.’
　　"WhenIhadreachedthehouseIimmediatelycalledouttoMotherLecacheur，shoutingwithallmymight：
　　"’Hullo，there！Mrs.Landlady，comehereandlookatthis.’
　　"Therusticapproachedandlookedatmyworkwithherstupideyeswhichdistinguishednothingandcouldnoteventellwhetherthepicturerepresentedanoxorahouse.
　　"MissHarrietjustthencamehome，andshepassedbehindmejustasIwasholdingoutmycanvasatarm’slength，exhibitingittoourlandlady.
　　Thedemoniaccouldnothelpbutseeit，forItookcaretoexhibitthethinginsuchawaythatitcouldnotescapehernotice.Shestoppedabruptlyandstoodmotionless，astonished.Itwasherrockwhichwasdepicted，theonewhichsheclimbedtodreamawayhertimeundisturbed.
　　"SheutteredaBritish’Aoh，’whichwasatoncesoaccentuatedandsoflatteringthatIturnedroundtoher，smiling，andsaid：
　　"’Thisismylateststudy，mademoiselle.’
　　"Shemurmuredrapturously，comicallyandtenderly：
　　"’Oh！monsieur，youunderstandnatureasalivingthing.’
　　"Icoloredandwasmoretouchedbythatcomplimentthanifithadcomefromaqueen.Iwascaptured，conquered，vanquished.Icouldhaveembracedher，uponmyhonor.
　　"Itookmyseatattablebesideherasusual.Forthefirsttimeshespoke，thinkingaloud：
　　"’Oh！Idolovenature.’
　　"Ipassedhersomebread，somewater，somewine.Shenowacceptedthesewithalittlesmileofamummy.Ithenbegantotalkaboutthescenery.
　　"Afterthemealwerosefromthetabletogetherandwalkedleisurelyacrossthecourtyard;then，attracteddoubtlessbythefieryglowwhichthesettingsuncastoverthesurfaceofthesea，Iopenedthegatewhichledtothecliff，andwewalkedalongsidebyside，ascontentedastwopersonsmightbewhohavejustlearnedtounderstandandpenetrateeachother’smotivesandfeelings.
　　"Itwasoneofthosewarm，softeveningswhichimpartasenseofeasetofleshandspiritalike.Allisenjoyment，everythingcharms.Thebalmyair，ladenwiththeperfumeofgrassesandthesmellofseaweed，soothestheolfactorysensewithitswildfragrance，soothesthepalatewithitsseasavor，soothesthemindwithitspervadingsweetness.
　　"Wewerenowwalkingalongtheedgeofthecliff，highabovetheboundlessseawhichrolleditslittlewavesbelowusatadistanceofahundredmetres.Andwedrankinwithopenmouthandexpandedchestthatfreshbreeze，brinyfromkissingthewaves，thatcamefromtheoceanandpassedacrossourfaces.
　　"Wrappedinherplaidshawl，withalookofinspirationasshefacedthebreeze，theEnglishwomangazedfixedlyatthegreatsunballasitdescendedtowardthehorizon.Faroffinthedistanceathree—masterinfullsailwasoutlinedontheblood—redskyandasteamship，somewhatnearer，passedalong，leavingbehinditatrailofsmokeonthehorizon.
　　Theredsunglobesankslowlylowerandlowerandpresentlytouchedthewaterjustbehindthemotionlessvessel，which，initsdazzlingeffulgence，lookedasthoughframedinaflameoffire.Wesawitplunge，growsmalleranddisappear，swallowedupbytheocean.
　　"MissHarrietgazedinraptureatthelastgleamsofthedyingday.Sheseemedlongingtoembracethesky，thesea，thewholelandscape.
　　"Shemurmured：’Aoh！Ilove——Ilove’Isawatearinhereye.Shecontinued：’IwishIwerealittlebird，sothatIcouldmountupintothefirmament.’
　　"SheremainedstandingasIhadoftenbeforeseenher，perchedonthecliff，herfaceasredashershawl.Ishouldhavelikedtohavesketchedherinmyalbum.Itwouldhavebeenacaricatureofecstasy.
　　"Iturnedawaysoasnottolaugh.
　　"IthenspoketoherofpaintingasIwouldhavedonetoafellowartist，usingthetechnicaltermscommonamongthedevoteesoftheprofession.
　　Shelistenedattentively，eagerlyseekingtodivinethemeaningoftheterms，soastounderstandmythoughts.Fromtimetotimeshewouldexclaim：
　　’Oh！Iunderstand，Iunderstand.Itisveryinteresting.’
　　"Wereturnedhome.
　　"Thenextday，onseeingme，sheapproachedme，cordiallyholdingoutherhand;andweatoncebecamefirmfriends.
　　"Shewasagoodcreaturewhohadakindofsoulonsprings，whichbecameenthusiasticatabound.Shelackedequilibriumlikeallwomenwhoarespinstersattheageoffifty.Sheseemedtobepreservedinapickleofinnocence，butherheartstillretainedsomethingveryyouthfulandinflammable.Shelovedbothnatureandanimalswithafervor，alovelikeoldwinefermentedthroughage，withasensuouslovethatshehadneverbestowedonmen.
　　"Onethingiscertain，thatthesightofabitchnursingherpuppies，amareroaminginameadowwithafoalatitsside，abird’snestfullofyoungones，screaming，withtheiropenmouthsandtheirenormousheads，affectedherperceptibly.
　　"Poor，solitary，sad，wanderingbeings！IloveyoueversinceIbecameacquaintedwithMissHarriet.
　　"Isoondiscoveredthatshehadsomethingshewouldliketotellme，butdarenot，andIwasamusedathertimidity.WhenIstartedoutinthemorningwithmyknapsackonmyback，shewouldaccompanymeinsilenceasfarastheendofthevillage，evidentlystrugglingtofindwordswithwhichtobeginaconversation.Thenshewouldleavemeabruptlyandwalkawayquicklywithherspringystep.
　　"Oneday，however，shepluckedupcourage：
　　"Iwouldliketoseehowyoupaintpictures.Areyouwilling？Ihavebeenverycurious.’
　　"Andsheblushedasifshehadsaidsomethingveryaudacious.
　　"IconductedhertothebottomofthePetit—Val，whereIhadbegunalargepicture.
　　"Sheremainedstandingbehindme，followingallmygestureswithconcentratedattention.Then，suddenly，fearingperhapsthatshewasdisturbingme，shesaid：’Thankyou，’andwalkedaway.
　　"Butshesoonbecamemorefriendly，andaccompaniedmeeveryday，hercountenanceexhibitingvisiblepleasure.Shecarriedhercampstoolunderherarm，notpermittingmetocarryit.Shewouldremainthereforhours，silentandmotionless，followingwithhereyesthepointofmybrush，initseverymovement.WhenIobtainedunexpectedlyjusttheeffectIwantedbyadashofcolorputonwiththepaletteknife，sheinvoluntarilyutteredalittle’Ah！’ofastonishment，ofjoy，ofadmiration.Shehadthemosttenderrespectformycanvases，analmostreligiousrespectforthathumanreproductionofapartofnature’sworkdivine.Mystudiesappearedtoherakindofreligiouspictures，andsometimesshespoketomeofGod，withtheideaofconvertingme.
　　"Oh，hewasaqueer，good—naturedbeing，thisGodofhers！Hewasasortofvillagephilosopherwithoutanygreatresourcesandwithoutgreatpower，forshealwaysfiguredhimtoherselfasinconsolableoverinjusticescommittedunderhiseyes，asthoughhewerepowerlesstopreventthem.
　　"Shewas，however，onexcellenttermswithhim，affectingeventobetheconfidanteofhissecretsandofhistroubles.Shewouldsay：
　　"’Godwills’or’Goddoesnotwill，’justlikeasergeantannouncingtoarecruit：’Thecolonelhascommanded.’
　　"AtthebottomofherheartshedeploredmyignoranceoftheintentionsoftheEternal，whichsheendeavoredtoimparttome.
　　"AlmosteverydayIfoundinmypockets，inmyhatwhenIlifteditfromtheground，inmypaintbox，inmypolishedshoes，standinginfrontofmydoorinthemorning，thoselittlepioustractswhichshenodoubt，receiveddirectlyfromParadise.
　　"Itreatedherasonewouldanoldfriend，withunaffectedcordiality.